CHAPTER 32 RAYA
RAYA
Adriel doesn’t subdue us with magic, it’s the shadows he uses to suspend us high above the ruined tower, Akari pinned beside me, our colors deadened to hollow silence.
“Like old friends, we meet again, full-bloods,” he says, though there’s nothing friendly about the silk in his voice or the chill in his smile, the way he’s appraising us like a pair of pinioned butterflies, as if he’d like to rip our wings off one by one.
“But I’m afraid that this time, there’s nowhere for you to run—isn’t that right, Father?
” That word is curdled milk on his tongue.
“Why don’t you tell our guests what’ll happen if they try? ”
A groan of agony escapes the councilman as his own shadowy bonds splay his arms out wide, bowing his body to the point of collapse.
“I know what he did to you, Adriel,” I say in a bid to talk him down. “I know that he threw you away and that the pain of it drove your mother to suicide.”
“Ah, so you’re familiar with our history.
” Adriel seems entirely unfazed by my knowledge of his past. “How the great Lars Denata was so ashamed to learn he’d sired a void that he gave away the child his wife so desperately wanted.
For what a colossal embarrassment it would have been for him had the Council found out, how it would have derailed his lofty ambitions.
Would you like to tell them why, Father?
I’m sure they’d love to know the reason they’ll be losing their magic. ”
“You are an abomination,” Denata spits through the pain, his precarious position doing nothing to dull the hate in his eyes. “I was merciful, considering what you are. The edicts demanded I kill you the second you failed to register a color. But I didn’t. I gave you a chance.”
“You gave me to a Church that despised my power more than you did!” Adriel growls.
“You hoped that they would do the killing for you, but instead, they taught me exactly how to claim my birthright. If only you knew the depth of the records they keep, Father, how much information the Church has squirreled away in its archives. So maybe I should be thanking you, after all.” With a curl of his fingers, Adriel lowers the councilman so that they’re nose to nose and fear to anger.
“I might have never learned to use my power if you hadn’t placed me with them.
I might have never learned just how afraid your Council is of voids. ”
“That’s because you’re a threat.” Denata’s face puckers as his bonds give another savagely hard tug. It’s almost impressive, actually, how even trapped and tortured, he sticks so adamantly to the party line. “You don’t belong in the Gray.”
“You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you?
” Around us, the shadows start swirling faster, roaring louder, as if responding to Adriel’s fury in kind.
“You’d like to believe that you’re superior on account of your magic, when the truth is, all magic is the result of the Gray being stripped into its constituent parts.
Perverted. It’s your kind that’s the real threat, Father; magic is the cancer that needs to be stamped out. ”
Well, now, he sounds exactly like Denata did at Ezzo’s trial, when he declared the same to be true of Hues.
“And what about Alara, huh?” Akari’s voice is a drop of ink bleeding through the dark. “She won’t survive the loss of her magic. If you do this, it will also kill her.”
“And I will mourn her death,” Adriel says, though the sentiment sounds cold and matter of fact. “She’s the reason I survived the orphanage, and I must admit, I’ve grown rather fond of her. But she believes in my mission as staunchly as I do; I’m certain she’ll understand.”
Just not certain enough to have told her the full consequence of his plan.
“Except you’re wrong about the shadows.” As much as it’s impossible to fight madness with logic, I still have to try. “They’re made of magic, Adriel, they are magic. If you go through with the poisoning, the entire Gray will die. I saw a vision of it happening!”
“But of course you did, full-blood—a cancer always seeks to prevent its own demise.” Adriel’s head cocks with sympathy, as if speaking to a daft child.
“You trust your magic because his Council taught you to trust it, so that you’d continue to propagate their lies.
Isn’t that right?” Another flexing of fingers turns Denata’s groans to outright screams as his arms finally pop from their sockets with a sickening snap.
“Forgive me, Father, my hand must have . . . slipped.”
The most unnerving thing about Adriel is how he seems to relish the violence, how his hand continues to slip until the councilman hangs as limp as a puppet whose strings were mercilessly cut.
“You are no son of mine,” Denata manages to hiss around the agony, and I can suddenly see exactly where Adriel got his vindictiveness from, his taste for cruelty. “You were a mistake then and you’re a mistake now. Killing me won’t change that.”
“Oh, I have no intention of killing you here, like this; I just wanted you to see how powerful I’d become—ahead of your true purpose.
You’re going to serve as my final tribute.
” Adriel’s delight is a snake slithering through tall grass.
“Just imagine it, Father, your blood—your color—flowing through the veins of one of the Church’s children, poisoning the rainbow you can’t envision living without. ”
When faced with the full scope of his son’s depravity, Denata stuns to silence, his eyes darting between me and Akari as though we could somehow help him escape Adriel’s wrath.
But we’re every bit as trapped as he is, and with our magics deadened, there’s nothing we can do to stop his raving zealot of a son.
Hells, Adriel is so thoroughly unconcerned by the threat we pose him that when he disappears them both into the castle, he doesn’t even bid the shadows to end our lives.
“Ray—watch out!” With his power gone, the storm raging around us quiets back to a windless night, sending us crashing down to the ruined tower.
Oof. We hit the stone with enough force to rend the air from my lungs, to vibrate the marrow in my bones and knock the world off its axis.
“Are you okay?” I ask Akari, blinking through the shock of survival.
“Argh, I think so.” With a groan, she braces and sits back up. “And I can feel my magic again. Can you feel yours?”
“Yeah, I can.” The warmth of it is unmistakable, and the second it sears through my veins, I ask the question that’s been itching at the edge of my mind, just waiting for me to break free of Adriel’s suppression.
How will we stop him?
It’s the same question I asked the future back in Saleen’s library, the one that led me to Killen’s body, and the Council’s prison,
and the confessions I made to Ezzo in the dark.
To the chain of events that saw us return to this castle.
And while I don’t know if the fates will answer it a second time—or if they can even offer me something new now that we’ve reached the cataclysm at the end of our path—Adriel didn’t betray a single weakness and I’m all out of ideas. I need to try.
You must show her his true plan. It’s Alara’s face the fates choose to flash me, along with a page from a book I’ve long since relegated to the past. A curiosity of fate-touched visions is that they can be projected from mind to mind.
I’m not entirely sure why they’re reminding me of the least relevant of Fernay’s ramblings, but I suppose I should just be grateful they’re desperate enough to answer.
“Erm . . . Ray? Are you still with me?” Akari waves me out of the vision. “Did you hit your head or are you casting right now? You look a little zoned out.”
“I was casting,” I say, though where to even begin trying to explain what the future showed me in reply, that I’m supposed to convince Alara of something she’s never going to believe about her brother.
If she’s as zealous as he is, then telling her the truth won’t achieve much; she’ll simply brush it off as a lie, like Adriel did when I told him about the shadows.
Her entire life, he’s been the only one she’s had to confide in, and the faith they’ve concocted together has been her reality for a long time.
Unless he’s the one doing the telling, words aren’t going to be enough.
She needs to see it.
In full taste and color.
With all the necessary conviction attached.
So, exactly what the fates just told you. All at once, Fernay’s ramblings feel far less redundant. If there’s a way for fate-touched visions to be projected, then I do have a shot at convincing Alara. The only question the future didn’t answer is how.
Then figure it out. If there was ever a time for me to trust my instincts—to trust my power—it’s now.
Because I’m still a Wryvern, godsdamn it.
No matter how much I suck at the guilds’ chosen method for seeing, I still have that legacy flowing through my blood.
Maybe I’m just built differently to my parents.
“Kiri, I need your help,” I say, moving to stand right in front of her, so close that we’re almost touching.
“Okay . . . you want to clue me in here?”
“Just try to keep an open mind for a second—like, literally an open mind.” I lean our heads together and close my eyes, willing my magic to pass between us, to take the calamity the fates showed me and show it to her.
Come on, please work. I’m doing everything Chase did when he set his color to stealing mine—holding physical contact, concentrating, taking deep breaths in and out—and while his gift is hardly the ideal model to follow, when it comes to exchanging power, it’s the only model I have.
Come on, just work already, just let this one tiny thing go right.
The moment Akari gasps and grips my arms for purchase, I know that finally, it has.
“Holy shadows, Ray, what in the nine hells was that?” she asks once the vision’s over.
“I’ll explain later. All that matters is that it worked, Kiri.” And that she happens to be the exact shade of magic I need to make it work past this tower.
Akari’s the Orange Shade from my vision—not Councilman Denata as I first thought.
She can take my power and amplify its might.
Together, we can make Alara see.