Chapter 25 ~Sylas~
~Sylas~
The fucking place was chilling.
It carried a lot of personal weight with it due to Velra and Ketheron and their brutal, horrifying experience of being experimented on in labs just like this one.
And although this one was abandoned, yet hadn’t yet been repurposed because the Guardian Movement and the Unity Council were working through so many already as it was, it didn’t assist with the eerie ambience, the sick feeling in my gut that settled there heavily just from being here.
Steel tables with heavy-duty restraints lined the center of the space, half a dozen side by side. Just behind them were glass containment pods, some cracked or marked with the signs of struggle—claw and talon slashes, magical burns.
A shudder rolled through me as I noted the cages at the far end of the space.
Fluorescent lights pulsing unsteadily and aggravatingly.
I took in some research tables to my right where four of Remnant’s magical scientists were gathered, mixing and preparing, while eyeing monitors above all concerning my condition and the operation that loomed all too heavily.
I sucked in a breath as I shrugged off my leather hooded coat, rested it on a bench by the far left wall near the entrance, then pulled off my long sleeve black tee also as Remnant had instructed.
He was outside commanding three dozen of his members—half sorcerers and sorceresses, half vampires. They would be patrolling and guarding the immediate area during the operation.
A lot of people didn’t want this happening.
They didn’t want me back at full power.
Now that we’d determined that the portion of my necromantic core Corvin had stolen from me was on this plane and technically accessible, the key to a permanent cure now existed.
But that key was in my father’s possession, my father who was also bolstered by Puritas.
Without me undergoing this procedure, there wouldn’t be the means to procure it, or to put the cure into effect.
It needed a necromancer, and that motherfucker was murdering them all across the supernatural world.
“Are you prepared?”
I spun as Remnant was suddenly right in front of me.
I literally hadn’t even seen him blur in through the door.
“Coat and shirt off. Good to go,” I told him.
“I am referring to mental preparation.”
I scoffed. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
He stepped closer, emanating old authority and power. I could almost taste it, it was so potent.
And I was a big fan.
As such, if he thought it could be used as an intimidation tactic, he had another thing coming. I couldn’t be affected in that way. It wasn’t how I was wired.
“Thank you for helping my son.”
Not what I’d been expecting out of his mouth.
The utter surprise of it obviously showed, because he went on, “You provided grounded and gentle guidance through a vulnerable shift and heavy realization for him. You are the first man he has felt comfortable revealing that facet of himself to and you protected it well, even nurtured it. That has even paved the way for him to open himself to his vampirism and transcend his repression of that.”
“It was his bravery more than anything I did. I just… facilitated it, tried to take some of the edge off in ways I would have wished for myself back when I was in the same boat.”
“Yet, with the added burden of being an orphan.”
I ground my jaw. “Yeah.”
“I am so very sorry that’s the way things transpired. No child deserves to suffer through that.” He regarded me shrewdly. “It shapes them, wouldn’t you agree?”
“To an extent.”
“Only to an extent?” he questioned. Well, more like, challenged.
“My mind is clear. My goal is clear when it comes to Morien. You don’t need to worry. I know there’s a price to pay for this operation, for you going to these lengths for me. And I’ll pay it. I’ll put that motherfucker down.”
“Gabriel Morgan was consumed by black magic.”
“Ryker’s father? I know. I heard.”
“I very much doubt that Ryker conveyed it to you. Considering he’d marked your father for death because even one as benevolent as Mr. Morgan had recognized that Morien Morgrave was beyond salvaging.”
“I get it. You think he didn’t want to put it in my head that there was a comparison to be made between his father and mine. And I’m also well aware that it’s not the same, that they’re not the same. Ryker’s father recovered from it. I work with Gabriel.”
“Through Arcanum Order, yes.”
Of course the Commander of The Shadowed knew all about our clandestine group.
And not just because he was a master of intelligence gathering.
Just like I’d suspected before Victor Halrow had made the claim, Remnant and Cornelius were allied and working together.
To what extent, though, remained to be seen.
“It’s not my intention to look for redemption viability in him, nor even to dig for signs of humanity. I know there’s none. I know he’s too far gone.”
“You are showing no emotion whatsoever regarding news of his resurrection.”
“He’s nothing to me. I’m not Lazriel, I’m not looking for a father. I don’t want that.”
“If this is your true stance, then there is no concern. However, if you are repressing, then there is danger.”
“What do you mean?”
“What about hatred?”
“What?”
“There may be no love lost, but what of the other side?”
“I just want him gone. Like he should already be.” I quirked my lips. “It bothers me when those who’ve been killed and needed to die don’t stay buried. A fucking hassle, is what it is.”
“Needed to die. That is worth noting.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“Not deserved to die. But needed to.” He stepped back and gave a nod. “Very well.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s your endgame here?”
“I have several, learned one.”
“In regard to me.”
He stared at me for a moment, or into me as it were.
“Let us focus on the Morien Morgrave of it all, and we will converse in the aftermath.”
He snapped his fingers then and I watched as his magical scientists—three sorcerers and one sorceress—convened around an operating table, the only clean one in this hellhole. And the only one possessing brand-new, shiny restraints. Fucking great.
I drew my eyes away from them and their black robes and metal masks concealing their identities, as Remnant told me, “This procedure will be far from painless. The incision will be done magically, so you will not be cut into. However, as the necromantic cores begin to fuse with your body, there will be initial resistance and confusion, which will require adaptation. It will feel much like fire blazing through your veins. It will be harder to endure than pain normally would be for somebody like you, because before the cores can be placed within you, you’ll need to be unbound.
The moment that happens, due to the state of your sickness at the time of the binding, you will immediately begin to desiccate.
It will take my cohorts several minutes to transplant the cores, at which point, the desiccation will cease. ”
I swallowed hard. “Got it. Explains the hefty restraints.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, there can be nothing else in your system, flowing through your veins during the procedure—no pain relievers. You must also remain conscious throughout.”
Torture then.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“Right. Let’s get to it.”
“You have no further questions or concerns that you wish to have addressed?”
It was clear what he was really asking me. “It’s not about blind trust. Alliances are rarely built on that anyway, as I’m sure you, of all people, are well aware.”
“They are built predominantly on need and endgames aligning.”
“Right. And in this particular case, this goes badly, you screw me over, we all lose.” I smiled. “So, let’s get to it, shall we?”
His eye twitched, but he didn’t speak to it directly.
I settled onto my back on the metal table, managing to suppress a shudder at the cold of the table against my bare skin in my shirtless state.
That became the least of it when the magical scientists eased my hands down by my sides and secured them into the hefty restraints built into the table—a table that was screwed into the concrete floor. Lovely.
Once they did the same to my ankles, my pulse picked up, my breathing quickening of its own accord, muscles straining and tightening.
“You will feel the rush of your magic flowing through your veins soon enough. Focus on that,” Remnant said, coming to stand at my right side.
Was he… trying to comfort me?
That hadn’t seemed like part of the deal.
Was he making that effort for Lazriel?
I didn’t have any time to think about it as one of the sorcerers came toward me with a very long needle that was shimmering blindingly bright with silver magic.
So, this was The Shadowed’s way of unbinding me without Cornelius needing to be here in person.
They’d created a serum-version of it. That made sense, given that the unbinding process was nowhere near as involved or prolonged as the actual binding itself.
And I was obviously all about the serum solutions. Color me impressed.
“Ready?” Remnant asked me.
“Yeah. Do it.”
He gave a chin lift to the sorcerer, and then the guy injected the solution, the needle puncturing the skin of my throat and sinking deep.
For the first few seconds after he was done and all the solution was seeping through my veins, there was a soothing coolness I felt at the injection site and spreading.
All too soon that evolved to a pins and needles sensation that traveled through my body rapidly.
And then sharp pangs assaulted me.
I grunted as pops of magic had me jolting in the binds—Cornelius’ magic trying to unlock what he’d sealed in me.
“It’s releasing,” I heard Remnant assure me, seconds before the pops abruptly ceased, and then a rush of mind-numbing power flooded me, like an eruption from within.
It was euphoric as fuck and it had my eyes rolling back in my head, and me squirming on the table with the intensity.
Shocks of my crimson magic sparked from my fingers and I choked, emotion threatening to get the best of me.
My power!
My fucking magic was back!
It rolled through me, filling me, releasing from its bound state, and eager to infuse me again—where it fucking belonged.
Such an undeniable part of me.
Before I could fully absorb the reality of it, three of the magical scientists lined up on my left side, holding a single palm up.
They each conjured in unison and then rectangular gems materialized—amber, fuchsia and turquoise.
The three necromantic cores that were going to be transplanted into me.
It was bittersweet.
In so many ways.
But in this particular moment, staring at those cores, that was rooted in the fact that three necromancers had died, that the reason these cores were here now was because they’d been struck down—by Morien, no less.
The remaining scientist joined Remnant on my right side, yellow magic sweeping over the length of my torso. I sucked in a breath at the freezer-burn sensation. He kept going until there was a two-inch thick yellow shimmering line from beneath my pecs all the way down to my navel.
Remnant startled me as he grasped my hand in a blur.
And then the three with the gems thrust them into the line, driving them with magical force and the entry point provided with the yellow magic into my fucking body.
I roared and bucked violently on the table.
Blazing fire, just like Remnant had warned, tore through every part of me.
Then stabbing pain joined the party and I caught sight of both my arms tinting gray, the desiccation already starting.
I choked out a gasp as it spread faster than I’d ever seen before, shooting up my arms, over my chest, headed for my heart.
“Sire, it’s happening too quickly,” one of the sorcerers warned. “We need to stop the procedure.”
Remnant leaned down beside me, having to release my hand because the fingers of my right hand were desiccating, so much so that I couldn’t even feel them.
He touched my hair to get my attention—maybe as comfort too, I couldn’t tell right now—and told me calmly, “I can authorize them to stop, however, the cores will be rendered useless. Or, it can be sped up, but it will be—”
“Unimaginable… agony?”
“Yes, I am afraid so.”
“Do… it,” I rasped. “Finish… it.”
He addressed his people. “Make haste.”
In the next moment, I felt a massive surge of their collective magic.
The cores being buried within me raged like fucking infernos.
The pain… I couldn’t… it was everywhere.
I was panting, sweat pouring all over me.
And for the first time ever, I wasn’t sure I was actually going to survive the battle.
“Motherfucker!” I bellowed out into the room, convulsing on the table, raging in the restraints. “Ah! Ah! Ah!”