Chapter 35
Viri woke up on a bed.
She was so comfortable that she just lay there, basking in the feeling of soft blankets beneath her and a fluffy pillow under her head.
It took her a long moment to realize that something wasn’t right, an insistent warmth in her palm making her memories return in a rush, prompting her to sit up so fast that her head spun.
She pushed through it to leap to her feet, whirling around and searching for the threat, finding herself in what appeared to be a large bedroom.
An everbeacon chandelier showed dark walls and closed scarlet curtains concealing what she assumed were windows, with similar scarlet drapes tied elegantly to the four corner posts of the lush bed she’d just scrambled away from.
Once, twice, three times she scanned the room, but there was no sign of anyone else in it with her, let alone a reason why her mark might be warm.
She focused on the sensation, but instead of it pulling her in one direction, it seemed to be pulling her in every direction, something she’d never experienced before.
Dread pooled within her as she moved on shaky legs toward the windows, drawing back the curtains to find a view that, a week ago, she would have said was impossible.
Because she was looking out at two mountains bathed in moonlight: the jagged-topped Mount Tembris…and the round-peaked Mount Verta.
“No,” Viri whispered, stumbling backward as she realized where that left her.
Inside the deadly, blackmist-covered Mount Mort.
Home of Diaboros, the city of reapers.
That was why her mark was warm—because even if there were no killers in the room with her, she was surrounded by them.
“No,” she whispered again, her body tightening with fear—a feeling that only grew when her mark gave a searing warning before a familiar dark voice spoke from the now-open door.
“Oh, it’s not so bad.” The Reaper Lord’s shadowy form stepped into the room. “If nothing else, the décor is pleasing.”
Panic slashed through Viri, and she immediately reached inward for her magic, certain she would need to protect herself from whatever revenge he had planned.
“Where’s Reeve? If you’ve hurt him, I’ll—” She broke off as she realized that, try as she might, she couldn’t feel anything within her, the river of power still and silent.
The Reaper Lord chuckled as if he sensed her struggle. “Reeve is unharmed. It was only you I wanted. Though I had to take precautions.” He tapped his gloved wrist pointedly.
Relief tore through Viri upon hearing about Reeve, but that turned quickly to unease as she glanced down at her hand, finding a shimmering red cuff circling her flesh. It was clearly magical, and yet, she felt nothing. Not even a tingle of ellixen.
“You revealed some clever new skills earlier tonight,” the Reaper Lord said, his tone mild, but there was a hint of rage behind the words. “Forgive me if I want to ensure you can’t do anything like that again.”
Viri tugged at the cuff, but it wouldn’t budge. “What is this?”
“My own version of a nullicuff, something not even your magic can destroy,” he answered. “Consider yourself cut off from your power until the time comes for me to remove it.”
Viri swallowed, surprised by how anxious she was to have lost access to something she’d only recently discovered. “And when will that be?”
“When the Orion Comet arrives, of course.”
She jolted. “What?”
The Reaper Lord smoothed a hand down the front of his dark cloak.
“You really should have listened to me, Viridia. I told you earlier—if tonight didn’t go as planned, then I was going to need you.
If you hadn’t intervened, you wouldn’t be here.
But you did, and now it’s not fifty children who will be sacrificed. Just you.”
The room spun around her, her voice croaking as she repeated, “What?”
“Didn’t your little friends tell you? Orion requires a different kind of sacrifice than Aurora—it needs ellixen abyssus.” A meaningful pause. “Also known as ‘ward magic.’ ”
Viri felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. This was what Wynter had tried to share earlier. It wasn’t “void magic” the comet needed—it was the magic inside Viri.
Her lungs began to constrict, but she forced herself to take steadying breaths, knowing a clear mind was the only weapon she had left. “What makes you think I have what you’re looking for?”
“Don’t play coy,” the Reaper Lord said flatly. “We both know about your connection to the obelisks.”
Viri jerked backward, a denial rising swiftly to her lips before she realized it was pointless.
She’d already known that the Reaper Lord wanted access to her magic; her brother had warned as much in the garden at Nevarnost, even if he’d been unsure why.
The reason—the Orion sacrifice—was an unwelcome surprise, but Viri would worry about the comet later.
Right now, her most burning question was how the Reaper Lord had learned about her ward magic to begin with.
The Guardian knew, having been the one to grant the magewish, and her parents, too, who had carried the secret to their graves. But the Reaper Lord…
“How—” Viri began to ask, only to be interrupted.
“I told you before. I’ve been watching you your whole life.”
“But why?” she demanded. “How did you even know to watch me?”
“Have you really not figured it out yet?” the Reaper Lord returned, his disbelief clear despite his face still hidden by shadows. “Truly?”
“Figured what out?” Viri cried, welcoming the frustration, since it offered a reprieve from her terror. But both emotions fled at what the Reaper Lord said next.
In a taunting, singsong voice, he recited, “Once upon a time there were three young hunters: a husband”—he held up one finger—“his wife”—he added a second finger—“and their best friend.” This time, he didn’t add a third finger, but instead—
He pointed at himself.
Viri’s eyes rounded in shock. “You’re—You’re—”
“The best friend of your dead parents? Yes. I was, once. Until they stole my magewish to save your life—a magewish I needed to save someone I cared about.” His tone darkened.
“When I returned to the Guardian, begging for another wish, there was nothing he could do, but he was sympathetic enough to teach me some magic. Only, when I dared to want more, he took it all away from me. So I became this.” He waved a hand at himself.
“And now I have all the power I could ever want.”
Viri gaped at him, struggling to process everything he’d just shared but still managing to rasp out, “You don’t, though, or you wouldn’t need me.”
“I don’t need you,” the Reaper Lord scoffed. “But I do want what only you can give me—the means to destroy the obelisks.”
“That’ll never happen,” Viri said, still reeling from what she’d just learned. Her hands fisted by her sides. “I won’t sentence Aravell to death.”
“Death?” An incredulous laugh. “I don’t want to destroy the city—I want to liberate it. And you, Viri darling, are going to help me, whether you want to or not.”
His response echoed jarringly in Viri’s ears, not because of his liberation claim, which she didn’t believe at all, but because of two words he’d used, spoken with familiarity—and mocking affection.
Viri darling.
“Who are you?” she breathed, staring into his shadowy hood.
“Finally, a question I want to answer,” the Reaper Lord said, sounding pleased.
He reached for his left glove and pulled it off, revealing a black-veined hand.
But before Viri’s eyes, the inky streaks faded from his skin—and as they did, the searing in her hunter’s mark eased as well, as if there weren’t a reaper standing in the room with her.
“How?” she whispered, not understanding.
“Another good question,” the Reaper Lord said, but this time, his voice was different, no longer deep and masculine. Instead, it lightened, the pitch becoming higher. Feminine.
And familiar.
Viri staggered back a step.
Then another.
She stopped only when she crashed into the bed frame, clutching the post for dear life as the Reaper Lord raised his—her—hands to lower her hood, the shadows vanishing entirely.
Viri stared in disbelief.
In horror.
“Surprise, darling,” Sarielle said with a dark smile, a wave of her hand making her black veins return and Viri’s mark start searing once more. “Glamour magic truly is a wonder, especially when I have to spend my days around you pesky hunters.”
Viri shook her head. “No.” She shook it again. “No.”
Sarielle tsked. “Are you really so shocked? I promised your brother I would leave you alone until I needed you—but I didn’t promise I wouldn’t keep an eye on you. Why do you think I took you in seven years ago? It certainly wasn’t because I cared about you.”
Tears burned Viri’s eyes, denial scorching through her, leaving a trail of agony. “No,” she said again, not wanting to believe it. Unable to believe it.
“I must admit,” Sarielle went on, “even I was impressed by my ability to act the part so well, and for so long. I had you convinced I was a loving, softhearted mother figure.” Another chuckle, this one taunting.
“The night I told you about Aurora was some of my best work. The trembling, the weeping…Oh, how I struggled not to laugh as you did exactly what I wanted and went straight to free Reeve, neither of you realizing you were my pawns all along.”
Viri continued to shake her head mutely, beyond words. Beyond anything.
“Don’t take any of this personally,” Sarielle said, as if she hadn’t just thrust a dagger into Viri’s chest. “Your parents claimed to love me, and they stabbed me in the back. I’m merely returning the favor.
” She shrugged coldly, no sign of the devoted guardian who had taken Viri in and cared for her—pretended to care for her—for years.
“And besides,” Sarielle went on, “at least I’m not leaving you to rot in a dark cell while we wait for Orion to arrive.
” She indicated the lush bedroom. “You’ll have all the comfort you need until that day comes, and then, well…
” She laughed, the sound making a shiver travel down Viri’s spine while bile crawled up her throat.
“After that, comfort won’t matter, will it? ”
With a slash of a smile, Sarielle reached into her cloak and withdrew a leather-bound book, tossing it at Viri’s feet. “Here. Something to keep you entertained while you await your fate.”
Numbly, Viri looked down at the cover, seeing ancient runes with a translation that read: The Journal of Celestial Mage Kadmus Castro.
Sarielle didn’t offer an explanation for the journal, only turned and headed for the door. She was just about to walk through it when Viri finally found her voice, hoarse and croaking as it was.
“My friends will find me. Reeve and Braedan will come for me. They’ll stop you. We’ll stop you.”
Sarielle turned back, her smile widening.
“You think I haven’t already dealt with them?
Your brother is locked up again, safe and sound.
Your friends, too. Even Wynter—yes, my own daughter.
She’s too dangerous to leave running around, especially now that I know about her useful little alchemy secret. ”
Viri’s stomach plummeted. But Sarielle wasn’t done.
“And as for Reeve?” A low, wicked laugh. “He’s free, but he won’t be coming for you.”
A tendril of hope rose within Viri. “He will. He’ll find me.” He’d promised he would, always.
“He doesn’t need to find you—he knows exactly where you are,” Sarielle said smugly. “But he won’t do a thing about it, because I’ve ordered him not to. And after all, blood is thicker than water.”
Everything inside Viri stilled. “What did you just say?”
Sarielle smirked. “Oh dear, did he forget to tell you?” She stepped through the doorway, turning back to offer three final words that shattered Viri’s world:
“He’s my son.”
Then Sarielle slammed the door behind her, the lock bolting into place, leaving Viri alone in the middle of a reaper city, her mark burning, her mind roaring…
And her heart breaking.