Chapter 58
Fifty-Eight
Kyrith
It takes days.
Not just to check their work, but also to make sure I’ve recovered enough energy to press their magic-damned button without being sucked back to the Vault.
Because they’ve made two mistakes.
Which means I can’t hit the bright green one that says ‘everything is good’ and instead have to look at the three other options they’ve given me.
Stars, this is frustrating. I could just tell them what’s wrong if I could only speak. But no. I have to pick from these annoyingly vague multiple-choice options and hope.
The second I press the red button, it lights up, and a robotic recording of Leo’s voice fills the living room.
“No. Error in incantation and runeform.”
Lambert rockets out of his chair with a shout, all thought of the game on the telly forgotten. “Boss!”
I don’t have the energy to press the button with his name. I can’t risk wasting any.
Fortunately, his crowing has brought the entire group of them rushing over. I deliberately waited for that quiet lull in conversation after they’d finished eating to make sure they’d hear me.
“Feck.” Leo stares at the still-flashing button like it’s cursed. “You’re sure it wasn’t the cat again?”
“The cat’s sleeping in Kyrith’s room,” Jasper says. “And the only button that thing has ever pressed is the one that swears at us.”
Oops. That might’ve been my fault.
I tried to use the fact that Westley is somehow able to sense me to communicate…
Unfortunately, he’s a typical cat. He does what he wants.
No amount of ghostly encouragement was enough to convince him to step on the letters I urged him toward.
On the rare occasion when he didn’t just weave between them, he discovered an affinity for the yellow ‘fuck you’ button.
“I love that one,” Eddy comments, grabbing an ice cream from the freezer.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t North’s idea after all.
“So we made a mistake somewhere.” Pierce is already prowling towards the papers, staring down at them. “Any chance of a hint?”
I tug at my sleeve as I debate how much help I can give them.
I’m clearly passing out for unknown periods of time every time I overextend myself. I need to be strategic.
Is it better to spend the energy now and speed up their work, or let them figure it out and save the time lost to unconsciousness?
Pressing the buttons requires more force than moving paper, I reason.
Drawing the tiniest fragment of energy, I lift the edge of the sheet where they misaligned the two runeforms. If they sort that, they’ll figure out the incantation.
Pierce snatches it up from the floor, frowning, but his next words are murky as I fight just to stay in place. Did I misjudge it? I thought I was fine.
“You take the runeform. I’ll take the incantation,” Leo tells the Carlton heir. “Jasper—”
“On it.”
I drop to the floor as they head back to the island, the bar stools scraping across the floor loudly. When the darkness finally abates from the edges of my vision, I shift to the sofa, lying across Lambert’s lap.
There’s no way I have the power to press another button, even if they miraculously spot their mistake tomorrow. So, I let myself lie there and recover, pretending I can feel the warmth of him beneath my head.
“I miss you all so much,” I whisper.
More days pass. It takes two just for them to find the issue and fix it, and a further three for me to triple check their work and then summon the power to approve it.
Now, as I watch them all descend on the Vault, I can’t keep still.
This might not work. In fact, it likely won’t.
Even Leo admitted that this would be the first of several ‘donations’. At best, this one might give me the ability to move things like my predecessors used to. It’s probably too much to hope that it might make me visible.
The Arcanaeum’s well of power is vast. It’ll take more than one infusion of magic from the six of them to fill it.
But if this goes well, then over the next few weeks, it might reach that all important tipping point that allows it to regenerate by itself. Once that happens…this won’t be necessary.
I just want to talk to them again. I just want them to see me when I kiss them goodnight.
I’d give anything for that much.
I’m even silently urging them to hurry up as they rest their grimoires on the same holders that were used in my sacrifice five hundred years prior.
“Last chance to back out,” I whisper, because none of them have so much as hinted at it.
If someone wanted me to try an experimental runeform that was built from forbidden magic by young mages barely out of university, I’d have at least questioned it. Apparently, my bonded have no such qualms.
I’m going to have to make all of them fake grimoires after this. They might’ve merged necromancy with restoration, but enforcement won’t know or care for the difference. With Leo’s reforms, they’ll all end up executed if they’re not careful.
The irony of him creating laws to unveil necromancers, and then secretly becoming one as a result of this crazy plan, isn’t lost on me. The key difference, in my mind at least, is that no one has to die for this spell to be cast.
I hope.
Magic. Please don’t let them die.
Eddy lingers on the edge of the room, her hands full of restorative potions.
“We chant the incantation five times,” Dakari reminds them. “No more. Then we can see how badly it drains us and adjust when we try again.”
“Kyrie, you need to get into place,” Leo says, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry.”
Into place, in this instance, means lying on the altar, putting myself directly under the spire.
He doesn’t have to apologise. Minimising the distance the power has to travel is a sensible way to avoid wastage. It’s important for the efficacy of the spell.
And when I slide onto the granite, I’m not afraid.
This is the opposite of the ritual that killed me. I’m surrounded by men who love me. Arcanists who spent weeks refurbishing the Arcanaeum, and even longer working on a spell to bring me back. It’s been well over a month since I disappeared, and they haven’t stopped trying.
They could’ve grieved and moved on. They could’ve given up a hundred times over.
And none of them ever so much as whispered that they might want to.
I settle into place, then aim a miniscule burst of power towards the button on the floor.
“Yes.”
The recorded voice echoes in the Vault, bouncing around the cavernous space.
One by one, the heirs cut their palms, layering them over one another between the tip of the spire and my chest.
I put my own on either side of theirs, wishing I could feel my heart pounding. It’s not necessary, but it keeps me sane to pretend like I can still touch them.
Please, stars, let this work.
They exchange a look and then pick up the chant. “Shi oslu vid, ritarn misu almeti…”
Magic slams into me like a dagger punch to the heart. Burning, oily, ecstatic, beautiful magic.
It’s not pleasant. Far from it. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes me want to fling myself away to escape. I grit my teeth against the rush. I won’t move. I mustn’t.
Seconds pass in hours; the five repetitions of the incantation seem to take years as I claw at the stone, eyes squeezed shut.
At first, I don’t notice that they’ve stopped. I’m too busy lying there, panting as Eddy slams restorative draughts into their hands.
“No more today.” I heave myself away, rolling over the edge and floating down to the floor in a heap. “Please. That…I need a break.”
North—who’s closest to where I’ve landed—jerks his head up, staring in my direction.
“Kyrith?”
My hand rises to my throat. “Can you see me?”
But his eyes don’t track my movements as I shift from side to side. My shoulders slump.
“Guess that was too much to hope for after just one go.”
“You’ve got to speak up,” he says. “I can barely hear you.”
“I can’t hear anything,” Dakari adds. “Is your head okay?”
“You can hear her?” Lambert is there, shoving North aside. “Boss!? Yell at us like we broke some of your rules.”
His voice is getting louder, like he’s the one they’re all struggling to hear, and I groan as the others start asking questions at once.
They definitely won’t hear me over this racket they’re making.
“YOU’RE ALL INSANE!” I bellow right back. “AND YOU DID brEAK THE RULES!”
“Definitely heard that one.” Dakari leans away, wincing.
At the same time Jasper says, “Told you she wouldnae be happy about that candle.”
“Or borrowing those grimoires from the Vault,” Eddy adds.
“Or being down here in the first place,” North says. “That’s a banishable offence.”
“If you’d all shut your fecking pie holes for one second,” Leo grouches. “We could ask her how she’s doing.”
I stare at all of them, sighing. “Lonely,” I finally answer. “But…better.”
It’s true. Now that the influx of magic has mostly passed, spreading out into the wider Library, I feel stronger than I did.
“We need to cast it again,” Pierce surmises. “Probably several more times.”
“Now?” Lambert asks, eyes bouncing to the altar and back again.
“She literally just said she needed a break, idiot.” North rolls his eyes, even though he was the only one to hear me earlier. “And you haven’t even finished your potion yet.”
“It doesnae hurt you, right?” Jasper presses, staring in roughly my direction. “Because—”
“It’s…a lot,” I admit. “But it’s not painful.”
It’s a little white lie, but I’m too grateful to be able to speak with them again to care.
“We go down to three chants,” Leo surmises. “Less but more often? Daily, maybe?”
“You can’t just keep downing restoration potions, or you’ll end up with organ damage,” I scold. “You need to rest and regenerate your magic naturally.”
I can’t justify them harming themselves in the name of bringing me back.
“I didnae catch all of that,” Jasper admits. “But dinnae worry. I’m not in any rush to end up with failing organs again.”
The silence that descends makes me sigh.
“Hey, boss.” Lambert grins. “Missed your voice.”
My answering snort is half-wistful, half-bemused. “You haven’t heard what I have to say about the dog buttons yet.”