Chapter 5
The Journal of Celestial Mage Kadmus Castro
Eighth Sun, Fourteenth Cycle, Twelfth Age
They’re coming for me. The mages. Tephryn.
I can’t—I don’t—
Zeranthe
She’s—She’s—
What have I done? WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Orion came tonight—and death came with him.
Just not the death I had planned.
At first, everything went exactly as it was supposed to.
My followers and I were gathered inside the White Tomb awaiting the comet’s arrival, our sacrifice laid out on the altar stone, ready for what was about to unfold.
Magistratus Garrin didn’t even need to stage an “accident,” because a volunteer came forward—a devoted shallow who believed in our cause so deeply that she was willing to pay the ultimate price.
It eased my conscience, knowing she’d agreed to it, and that I wouldn’t be committing cold-blooded murder.
As it turned out, I was wrong about that. Though it wasn’t her who I killed.
I never had the chance.
Because just as Orion appeared at the edge of the night sky, just as I started chanting and began to reach for the comet’s power, just as I was about to drive my ritual bone dagger downward and complete the sacrifice—I remembered something.
In my desperation, in my hubris, I’d forgotten that Orion requires one more element than Aurora for the channeling to work.
Ellixen abyssus.
Before I could find a way to salvage the ritual, disaster struck. Because out of nowhere—
Magic slammed into me.
It wasn’t Orion’s magic.
It wasn’t the magic of the Hallow Stream, breaking free on its own.
No, it was my beloved Tephryn.
And she wasn’t alone. Every mage on the isle had come for us, having somehow learned of our plans to destroy the obelisks.
Quickly, so very quickly, everything went wrong.
Or maybe it went right.
…But then it went very, very wrong.
I can’t
I don’t
Zeranthe
I’m not sure what happened. How it happened. How it was even possible. But instead of siphoning Orion, I siphoned something else.
Some one else.
One moment, I was standing at the altar, trying frantically to recall everything I knew about ellixen abyssus, and the next, the mages were swarming the White Tomb.
They drove me and my shallows outside, then started slapping nullicuffs on anyone who displayed the slightest hint of ellixen, silencing what little power they had.
Seeing that, witnessing my devoted followers being repressed with barely any effort, that’s when I lost it.
I’m not sure if it was my devastation about Orion.
If it was the Hallow Stream’s influence over me.
If it was simply me.
But when one of the mages who had mocked and derided me for months came forward to bind me, something inside me changed. Shifted. And suddenly, I was hungry—not for food, but for power.
His power.
I could feel the ellixen running through him. And I wanted it. Needed it.
So I took it.
It was instinctive, what I did. For years, I’ve siphoned from celestial bodies. It’s become second nature to me, reaching for them and channeling their power, then releasing it outward so my shallows can absorb it.
This time, that’s not what I did.
Because when the mage tried to bind me, I grabbed his wrists, skin to skin—and I fed.
There’s no other word for it. I siphoned the ellixen right out of him, reaped every last drop.
My veins turned black, something that’s never happened during my rituals, but I’ve never stolen power from a living being before.
I didn’t know I could steal from a living being.
It’s not possible on the mainland—the wards around the Hallow Streams there prevent it—but here on Elverdine…
I couldn’t stop—didn’t try to stop. His ellixen…I was starved for it. It was better than anything I’ve ever siphoned, like the finest, purest delicacy.
I needed more.
So when he fell at my feet, drained of magic—drained of life—I couldn’t resist the hunger driving me to siphon again. To reap again.
In that moment, I became something new, something powerful, something unstoppable—a reaper. And when I began yelling instructions to my shallows, telling them what to do, how to do it, I was no longer their Mage Priest, but their Reaper Priest.
The first ever Reaper Priest.
No—the first Reaper Lord.
A powerful title, for a powerful leader.
And lead I did. My shallows followed me, as they always have, drawing magic into themselves. Reaping magic.
Once the oppressed, now the oppressors.
The mages didn’t know what was happening, not even when they began falling to the overwhelming number of shallows, their power stolen, their lives extinguished.
But the dragons—the bonded dragons—they knew.
Zeranthe knew.
She came for me, screaming into my mind as she flew down from the mountain. It took mere minutes, but when she landed among the moonlit tombs, it was already too late.
I was too far gone in my lust for more magic.
My shallows—my reapers—were too far gone.
And Zeranthe…the strength of her ellixen…the sheer amount of power inside her, emanating like the light from a thousand suns—
I no longer had any control over myself. All I knew was need.
By the time I realized what was happening—that I was siphoning from my beloved dragon, that my reapers were doing the same, that we were killing her—
The other dragons arrived then, having come to save their mages. They forced me and my reapers to scatter.
But Zeranthe—
The dragons had to carry her away, her ellixen all but gone, her vibrant blue scales turned a deathly white.
She didn’t fight back.
Why didn’t she fight back?
Our connection is gone. I can’t feel her anymore.
I think I
I think we
I don’t know if she
The mages are coming for me. They believe I’ve lost my mind, that the Hallow Stream’s magic has corrupted me.
Maybe it has.
Maybe it happened when I cracked the first obelisk, when the Stream’s power flooded me, when its rage filled me.
Maybe the Stream is the reason for my hunger, my desperation, my addiction.
Maybe it drove my actions tonight.
Or maybe that was just me.
The mages will have figured out what happened by now, what I did, what my reapers did, and they’ll have rallied. I don’t know what they’re planning or how they intend to stop us, but Tephryn is smart, and she—they—
I won’t go down without a fight.
I won’t let them take this from me, from my reapers, from us.
The hunger—it’s relentless.
I need more.
They’re coming for me. Coming for my reapers. Tephryn is—
They’re here.