Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Winter
The warehouse from Milo's message loomed before us, a hulking silhouette against the night sky. Its broken windows looked ominous and the rusted metal siding creaked in the wind. A faded sign reading "Arcadia Shipping & Storage" hung askew over the main entrance.
"I don't like this," Rook growled, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. "Something feels wrong."
I nodded, the new spiral mark on my side throbbing beneath my shirt. Since leaving the apartment, the sensation had intensified, pulsing with a rhythm distinct from my prophetic markings. "Milo's in there. I can feel it."
Fenric consulted his tablet, brow furrowed. "There's unusual magical activity within the structure. Multiple energy signatures, some of which don't match any known classification."
"Great," Zane checked the protective amulets he'd brought along. "Unknown magic in a creepy warehouse. What could possibly go wrong?"
"We stay together," Rook's tone left no room for argument. "No splitting up, no matter what we find."
The warehouse door hung partially open, metal grinding against concrete as Rook pushed it wider. The interior was pitch black, swallowing the beam of Fenric's enchanted flashlight almost immediately.
"That's not natural darkness," Zane observed, creating a small ball of fae light in his palm. Even its usual bright glow seemed dimmed, struggling against the oppressive blackness.
I stepped forward, the blue markings on my arm brightening in response to my unease. Their glow provided better illumination than either Fenric's flashlight or Zane's fae light, casting eerie blue shadows across the warehouse floor.
"Milo?" My voice echoed through the cavernous space. "Horrace?"
No response.
We moved deeper into the warehouse, following the faint trail of magical residue that Fenric's instruments detected. The floor was littered with debris of broken pallets, shattered glass, abandoned machinery rusted beyond recognition. But what caught my attention were the shadows.
They weren't behaving properly.
When I moved, my shadow didn't follow correctly, lagging behind by several seconds. When I raised my arm, the shadow raised its arm too, but with a jerky, unnatural motion, as if it were a puppet controlled by inexperienced hands.
"Do you see that?" I whispered, pointing to our distorted shadows.
Rook nodded grimly. "Time isn't flowing right in here."
As if to confirm his assessment, a drop of water fell from a leaking pipe overhead. Instead of falling straight down, it zigzagged through the air, stopping mid-descent before continuing on a different trajectory. It took nearly thirty seconds to hit the ground.
"The Veil is thin here," Fenric watched the water droplet's strange journey. "Reality is becoming unstable."
We continued forward, moving cautiously through the temporal distortions.
Objects would occasionally flicker, appearing in one spot before jumping to another.
Sounds reached our ears out of sync with their sources like the crunch of glass beneath our feet echoing before we stepped on it, Zane's whispered curses audible only after his lips had stopped moving.
"Milo!" I called again, louder this time. "Where are you?"
A faint blue glow caught my eye from the far corner of the warehouse. We approached cautiously, finding a door that appeared to lead to a basement level. The glow emanated from beyond it, pulsing with a familiar rhythm. Was..it?
"That's Milo's necromantic energy," Zane confirmed, his expression tightening with concern. "But it's fluctuating. Unstable."
Rook pushed the door open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into more darkness. The blue glow was stronger here, but it flickered erratically, like a dying lightbulb struggling to stay lit.
We descended the stairs, the temporal distortions growing more pronounced with each step. By the time we reached the bottom, I felt like I was moving through molasses, each movement requiring concentrated effort.
The basement opened into a large chamber that might once have been a storage area.
Now it was transformed. Complex magical circles had been drawn on the floor in what looked disturbingly like blood.
Candles burned at strategic points around the room, their flames frozen in place, neither flickering nor consuming their wax.
And in the center of it all stood a stone altar, ancient and weathered, covered in symbols I recognized from my prophetic markings.
"What is this place?" I breathed, the spiral on my side burning now, responding to whatever magic permeated the chamber.
"A ritual site," Fenric's voice was tight with tension. "Recently used."
"Milo!" Zane suddenly broke away, rushing toward a dark shape huddled against the far wall.
My heart lurched as I recognized Milo's crumpled form. We all ran to him at once, Zane reaching him first and gently turning him over.
Milo was unconscious but breathing, his face unnaturally pale. A thin line of blue energy leaked from his nose and the corners of his eyes, necromantic power escaping his body like blood from a wound.
"What happened to him?" I knelt beside him, taking his cold hand in mine.
"Magical exhaustion," Fenric checked Milo's pulse. "Severe, but not immediately life-threatening."
Rook growled, his eyes flashing amber as he scanned the room. "Where's the manticore?"
I froze, suddenly realizing Horrace wasn't with Milo. "Horrace? Horrace!" I called, panic rising in my throat.
No musical trill answered me. No tentacled form came bounding out of the shadows.
"They've taken him with my skeletons," Milo's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes fluttering open. "I couldn't stop them."
"Milo!" I squeezed his hand. "Who took Horrace? What happened?"
He struggled to focus, his usual bright energy dimmed to a flicker. "Cultists. They were waiting. They knew we'd come." He coughed weakly. "They had a containment sphere. Trapped Horrace inside. Said they needed him for the ritual."
"What ritual?" Fenric was already documenting everything on his tablet.
"The Opening," Milo's eyes drifted closed again. "They're going to use him to tear the Veil permanently. They need his inter-dimensional energy."
Cold dread settled in my stomach. "Where did they take him?"
"Don't know," Milo shook his head weakly. "But they left this." He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a small, crystalline object that pulsed with an ominous red light.
Fenric took it carefully, his expression grave. "A beacon. They want us to follow them."
"It's a trap," Rook voice was flat.
"Obviously," Zane was supporting Milo's head. "But they have Horrace."
I stood up, determination hardening within me. "Then we spring the trap."
"Winter," Fenric's voice held a warning. "This is exactly what they want. They're using Horrace to lure you to them."
"I know," I met his gaze steadily. "But I'm not abandoning him."
The spiral mark on my side pulsed painfully, as if responding to my resolve. I pressed my hand against it, feeling it writhe beneath my palm like a living thing trying to break free.
"Something's happening," I gasped as the pain intensified.
The others watched in horror as the spiral began to glow through my shirt, its light a sickly red in contrast to the blue of my prophetic markings. The two energies clashed visibly, creating a purple haze where they overlapped.
"The Harbinger mark is activating," Fenric moved toward me, crystal scanner in hand. "It's responding to something in this chamber."
Before he could reach me, a violent surge of energy exploded from the altar at the center of the room. The frozen candle flames suddenly roared to life, stretching toward the ceiling in pillars of fire. The symbols carved into the stone began to glow with the same red light as my spiral mark.
"Get back!" Rook lunged to pull me away from the altar.
Too late. A beam of crimson energy shot from the altar directly to my side, connecting with the spiral mark like a tether. Pain tore through me, dropping me to my knees. It felt like something was being pulled from me, or perhaps pushed into me, I couldn't tell which was worse.
"Winter!" Zane abandoned Milo to rush to my side, his hands already glowing with protective magic.
The connection between the altar and my mark pulsed once, twice, then severed with a sound like tearing fabric. I collapsed forward, barely catching myself on my hands.
"Are you okay?" Rook's hands were on my shoulders, steadying me.
I nodded shakily, though I felt far from okay. The spiral mark had changed—I could feel it without looking. It had grown, spreading across my ribs like a creeping vine.
"They're using you," Milo's voice was stronger now, urgency giving him renewed energy. "The spiral is a conduit. They're channeling power through you to weaken the Veil."
"How do we stop it?" I demanded, struggling to my feet with Rook's help.
"Find Horrace," Milo sat up on his own slowly. "He's connected to your prophetic energy. Together, you might be able to counter whatever they're doing."
The crystal beacon in Fenric's hand pulsed more rapidly, its red glow intensifying. "It's activating. I believe it's calibrating to the energy signature of the spiral mark."
"Can you track it?" Zane moved to help Milo stand.
Fenric nodded. "The beacon appears to be attuned to a specific location. Most likely where they've taken the manticore."
"Then that's where we're going," I ignored the pain still radiating from my side.
"You need medical attention," Rook argued, his hand still on my arm. "Whatever that altar did to you…"
"Can wait," I cut him off. "Horrace can't."
Rook looked like he wanted to argue further, but something in my expression must have convinced him of my resolve. He nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But at the first sign that you're getting worse, we're pulling back."
"Agreed," I lied, having no intention of retreating regardless of my condition. Horrace needed me.