Chapter Eight
Kairen
The Hollowwood thinned before petering away into a dense forest made up of mundane trees.
And in the midst of it all, hidden from view by the trees, the tower stood below the cliffs, looking like an ordinary tower made of stone and wood. But each breath stung the lungs—magic burned raw in the air, stripped of harmony.
Kairen slowed his pace at the edge of the cliff. The soil hissed where his boots touched it.
Adira stood beside him, cloak pulled tight, eyes narrowing against the glow. “You said the old shifter temples balanced human and elemental magic. But this looks unbalanced. Unstable.”
“He always believed power demanded sacrifice.” Kairen hesitated, wondering how to frame his sentences.
He was no diplomat, unlike his companion.
“Adira, you can still walk away from all this. You’re already a fugitive from your own country.
There’s no need to add Rindais to your list of enemies. This isn’t your fight.”
“It became my fight when the Crown Prince of my country sent me here.” She firmed her jaw. “And if I am to expose Rindais and the prince, I must bear witness to their crimes so that the world learns the truth. I must get him to admit the truth to me in his own words.”
He looked at her, surprised by the quiet conviction in her voice. She didn’t flinch from the sight of the tower or the crackle of unstable energy crawling over the ground. Instead, she studied it as she might a negotiation table—calculating, clear-eyed, unafraid.
“You really think Rindais will let you walk out unscathed?” he asked. “You’re dealing with a madman.”
“Even if he’s a madman, my weapon has always been words,” she said. “If I’m unsuccessful, you can follow with lightning afterward.”
A humorless smile tugged at his mouth. “Diplomats and mages—what could go wrong?”
Together they crossed the scorched threshold.
The wild magic all around resisted them, tendrils of red mist coiling around their legs, whispering in voices that weren’t entirely human.
Kairen’s wards flared pale blue, cutting through the haze.
He felt his beast stir at the proximity to Rindais’s corrupt magic.
It wanted to run, to rend, to burn. He clenched his jaw, keeping his focus on the tower’s base.
The entrance stood open: an invitation or a trap. Inside, the air was cold and metallic, the walls faintly alive with moving light. The structure pulsed like the inside of a living thing.
Adira whispered, “You said he was obsessed with consuming the power of the Heartstones. With harnessing it for his own ends.”
Kairen nodded grimly. “He claimed it was his life’s work.”
They moved upward through spiraling staircases where the floor glowed faintly beneath their steps. The higher they went, the stronger the pull of the corrupted magic became. Kairen could feel his amulet heating against his wrist. The beast within him prowled restlessly, drawn toward its maker.
They reached a room lined with glass cylinders filled with faintly luminous fluid. Inside floated glowing objects—feathers, scales, fur. Adira’s breath caught. She stepped closer to one cylinder. “You were right. He’s still experimenting.”
Kairen’s throat tightened. “I told you. He’s not the kind to stop until he’s dead.”
Her hand clenched at her side. “Do you think he’s got more test subjects up there?” Her eyes drifted to the floorboards beneath them. “Or down there?”
“Maybe. Either way, this ends tonight.”
She turned to him. “You think we can stop him?”
Kairen hesitated. “I’m not going to rest until I try.”
“Then we do it quickly.”
Her calm certainty would have frightened him once. Now it steadied him. “You sound like a mage,” he said.
“And you sound like a man with a plan.”
He almost smiled. “Maybe we’ve switched roles.”
“Now, I am going to go up these stairs and try talking to Rindais,” Adira said softly. “See if I can find out if he has any more subjects in here. Stay hidden until absolutely necessary.”
Kairen nodded. With a wave of his hand and a few whispered words, he cast a glamor over himself, turning his form invisible. He caught Adira’s hand in his and squeezed, and she nodded, before slowly going up the stairs with him on her heels.
At the top of the final stair, the chamber opened wide into a vast, circular hall. Under the thatched wooden roof was a dome of shifting light, and at its center stood Rindais.
His old master hadn’t aged in these six years.
His hair was still the same white blonde, and his mismatched eyes—one green, one brown—still shone with power.
He wore simple black robes threaded with the same red veins that crawled through the floor.
Around the chamber, countless runes glowed in time with his magic—binding circles, mirrored glyphs, echoes of the same symbols from the shifter Sanctuary.
Kairen’s pulse thundered. The amulet on his wrist burned hotter as memories of the past assailed him.
“The heartstone’s power cannot be contained by humans, master!”
“Silence!”
And when Kairen’s conscience hadn’t let him stay a mute spectator any longer, he’d set Rindais’s test subjects free…
“You should’ve told me you were volunteering to take their place, Kairen.”
And then—pain. Blood. So much blood. Magic sparking within him, remaking him, turning him into something less than a man, but more than a beast.
Adira stepped forward. “Greetings, Magelord.”
Rindais’s eyes turned to her, faint curiosity in his expression. “Ah. The envoy. Crown Prince Sekhar spoke of you. You were meant to deliver me what I need.”
“And what’s that?” she demanded.
“A royal decree. More test subjects. A collaborator to work with.”
Adira scoffed. “You think I’ll work with you?”
“Not you.” His eyes shifted, seeming to unerringly find Kairen, even hidden as he was. “Kairen. My old apprentice.”
He heard the stifled gasp that came from Adira, and nearly cursed.
Well, if the truth was out, there was no need for hiding any more, was there? With a wave of his hand, Kairen let the illusion drop, and stood unmasked before Rindais, who was crowing now.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Kairen was my apprentice, once. A most promising one.” Rindais’s eyes moved from Adira to him, and there was a sly amusement in his mismatched gaze. The bastard was enjoying this.
Kairen wondered if Adira regretted last night, now that she knew who he really was.
“I don’t know what he’s told you, envoy, but before Kairen Vale decided to abandon me and my life’s work, he was my student.” Rindais mock sighed. “A poor one, to be true, and lacking in a certain…creativity of thought, but I taught him all he knows, nonetheless.”
“Creativity of thought,” Kairen repeated hoarsely.
“That’s a funny way to pronounce ‘moral turpitude’,” he spat.
“I only regret that it took me so long to see what you were truly doing.” He shook his head.
“All those people you killed…all those lives you destroyed for your experiments. And none of them ever worked. You killed all those people for nothing!”
For the first time, Rindais’s calm mask cracked. “My experiments are not a failure!” he thundered. “I simply needed a little more time to perfect them. Time…and more test subjects. And now, finally, I’ve succeeded.” His eyes instinctively flicked to the corner, and Kairen turned to look.
It took him a moment to understand what he was seeing: a rune circle inscribed on the stone walls of the tower—manacles—
“What did you do?” Kairen demanded in rising horror.
Rindais smiled. Madness gleamed in his eyes. “I spent too long focusing on changing humans, when I should have concentrated on creating chimaeras. And finally…finally…I succeeded.” He waved a hand to the open windows. “They’re out there right now, helping the Tellurian king win his war.”
Kairen staggered back. He was too late. Of course. Hadn’t he known that Rindais would never stop on his own? He knew he had to fight his erstwhile master, had to stop him…but he’d foolishly put it off for as long as he could, hoping another way would present itself.
Hoping he wouldn’t have to face the weight of his past.
“How many people died before you succeeded?” Kairen spat.
“There’s always a price to pay for ambition,” Rindais said, his eyes glittering. “For being brave enough to use what the gods abandoned.” He raised a hand, and a glowing glass vial floated over to him. A black stone gleamed in the depths.
“The Heartstone,” Kairen breathed. He shook his head. “You’re trying to command what you don’t understand. You can’t control it. No one can.”
“I don’t need control,” Rindais snarled. “I need surrender. Once I manage to drain the Heartstone of its power, the boundary between human and shifter will fall.”
Adira drew a deep breath. “You call this progress. I call it corruption.”
Rindais regarded her with contempt. “And what would a court envoy know of progress?”
“Enough to recognize tyranny dressed as progress,” she said evenly.
Kairen saw the flicker of anger in his former master’s eyes. “Careful, diplomat. You stand in the heart of creation.”
“She stands with me,” Kairen said. This close to the Heartstone, he felt its power reaching out to him, and strangely, it felt…healing. Like it was asking him to let go, and trust that he would be safe.
The amulet on his wrist cracked.
A sound like breaking glass filled the hall. Light burst from his wrist, spilling in sharp, silver arcs across the floor. The beast in him roared awake, surging toward the source of its birth. He barely held it back.
Rindais smiled. “Yes. That’s what I need.
Let go, Kairen.” His mismatched eyes gleamed, green and brown glowing with unholy passion.
“My chimaeras are stable, but to create a true shifter, I need more power.” He smiled.
“I thank you for bringing it back to me.” He clenched his fist, and the glass cylinder housing the Heartstone shattered.
A surge of power rushed through the room, calling to Kairen.