Chapter 31 #2
“Wonderful!” I fell into step beside him. “And how was your journey home last night? You look quite refreshed.”
Arnel laughed, and his mustache twitched upward. It struck me again how similar he looked to my father. “It was just fine. Rather uneventful. Exactly how I like it. The rocking carriage soothed me to sleep in no time.”
“Perhaps I should try that next time I visit.” But then I frowned, because it was a long carriage ride from here to Whiteolf, and who knew when I’d be allowed to leave the palace after dark. It was unlikely I could make it here and back in one day.
“Ah, here we are.” My uncle led me to a large set of black double doors. He opened them to reveal a huge library filled with books. At the center was a tall table, high enough to lean on while standing. Surrounding it were several armchairs and a long sofa. “I have the book here.”
He led me to it, and on the table, a large tome sat open. Its spine looked freshly crafted, and its pages were crisp.
“What a well-preserved relic!” I peered down, and sure enough, it was entirely in Elvish.
Beside it sat a piece of parchment and a quill. My uncle slid them toward me. “In case you want to write it down while you translate.”
I picked up the quill, my mind already buzzing with anticipation. “Thank you, Uncle. I’ll get to work.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “And I’ll go find my spellcaster so your warrior may be let in. I’ll be right back.”
He left me in his library, leaving the door open behind him, and I hunched over the book and began to read. I thought it best to read it first, being careful with my translation before I began to write it down in fae, so I left the quill unused in my hand for the time being.
Forehead furrowing, I translated it to myself as I went, and with each line, the extent of my uncle’s discovery began to sink in.
The God of Night created his creatures of darkness to serve in his war against the fae.
Revered by the elves, the God of Night endeavored to help them maintain control of their realm.
Hundreds of his vamfeers roamed the land under the God of Night’s control, and they killed fae and then turned them into nightmarish monsters, more vamfeers created to serve the god.
The God of Night enslaved them. Fed from them. Owned them.
But when the fae pleaded with the gods and goddesses to help them take back their realm from the elves, a battle ensued between the Goddess of Light and the God of Night, and the goddess won. She banished his horrific vamfeers and took control of the realm once more.
Yet, his elvish followers remained.
I paused, and my mind buzzed with amazement that my uncle had found information on the God of Night, exactly what I’d been hoping Nathaniel’s friend would be able to uncover.
I tapped the quill to my mouth and tried to recall what I knew of ancient history.
This tome spoke of a time from long, long ago, even before the elvish wars.
A thud came from down the hall, and I looked over my shoulder. But the hall remained empty, and I didn’t hear anything further, so I resumed reading.
For many centuries, the God of Night’s followers remained in the shadows, trying to call the god back to their realm, but he would not heed their pleas until one day, a faithful servant built a stone temple and infused it with magic from the stars.
He was a scholar, a potion master, and he sought to call the God of Night to his aid.
After many sacrifices, the God of Night at last responded, and the fairy was able to harness the God of Night’s ancient servants through a potion that could change fae into long-dead vamfeers.
I jerked upright and read that paragraph again, wondering if I’d misunderstood it because it almost sounded like it was speaking of the present day. And the second time through only revealed that my first translation was correct.
Mouth gaping, I flipped the book’s cover over, but it held no title nor an author’s name. Being careful not to lose my page, I thumbed through the first few pages of the book to see if there was any identifying information to state where it’d been printed or how long ago.
But there was nothing.
Confusion filled me even more, and I again studied the binding and pages. They looked brand new, as if this book had only been created recently. Almost as if it were homemade. Leaning down, I sniffed.
Neither thyme nor anise preserving scents rose from the pages, making me think this tome looked new because it was new. “How strange.”
I resumed reading, and another sound came from the hall, a sliding sound, and then the squeak of a door’s hinges. I glanced over my shoulder again, but as before, I didn’t see anything. Yet, someone was definitely out there.
“Uncle Arnel?” I called.
Silence.
A slow-growing sense of unease began to fill me, even though I knew it could have just been a servant.
Despite that, my stomach tumbled, and I tried not to worry that neither my uncle nor Royden had shown up yet, but I reasoned that his spellcaster had perhaps wandered somewhere, and my uncle was still searching for them.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to stop my wayward thoughts and instead concentrated on the beauty of the outdoors, since that usually grounded me.
Sunlight streamed through the library’s windows, and a gust of wind blew through the trees in the Wood.
The idyllic scene captured my attention as I contemplated what this book was or who the author had been.
But just as my heart rate calmed, and I was about to start rereading, a flash of something white caught my eye in the Wood.
A large tree branch swayed in the wind, and white stone again appeared through its leaves. It was the same structure I’d initially seen outside, and it once again peeked into view.
I stepped away from the table and went to the window, peering closer at that structure. As the leaves and branches wavered more, the stone became more visible.
Pillars.
There were stone pillars in the Wood, and they appeared to be in a—
I squinted and activated my sight sensory magic, zooming my focus entirely on that structure.
My breath sucked in.
It was a circular temple.
My mouth dropped open, and the feeling of dread inside me returned. There was a temple, just past my uncle’s lawn, likely in the Wood that was still on his property, and I’d just been reading a book that spoke of calling upon the God of Night.
And then I remembered something my father had said at the council meeting. He’d said the Imperial Council had discovered that the fae who’d been turned into the creatures, had all left each month around the same time. Where they’d ventured to, nobody knew, but . . .
Is it possible they were all God of Night followers, his faithful servants to this day who convened to meet in secret every month? Perhaps to worship?
The sinking feeling in me increased, and I took a step back.
Royden. I need to find Royden.
Heart racing, I hurried away from the window, past the disturbing book, and into the hallway, but it was empty. Nobody was about.
Picking up a full run, I sped toward the front door, searching and looking for my Imperial Warrior, whom I realized I never should have left in the first place, but before I could reach the entryway, my uncle appeared, walking from around a corner.
Panting, I came to a careening halt a second before I barreled into him.
“Stars, Primelle! You took me by surprise. I thought you were in the library.” My uncle grinned broadly, just as another male appeared from behind him, coming from the same hallway. He was tall with startling green eyes and light-brown skin.
Still panting, I studied him. Something about the second male’s features looked familiar, but I couldn’t place why.
“Are you already done?” my uncle asked. “That was quick.” He looked me up and down, and I was vaguely aware that my eyes likely looked wild, and my hair was probably in disarray from my sprint.
“Um, no.” I tried to catch my breath, but I couldn’t stop my anxious glances toward the front door. “I just came to find Royden. Is he inside?” My heart pounded, and I looked every which way, but I didn’t see Royden anywhere.
“Oh yes, he’s inside.” My uncle gestured to the second male. “And forgive my manners, this is a friend of mine, Tylen.”
Tylen. Something about that name rang a bell, and it hit me just as fast where I’d heard it.
“You’re Varkin’s brother?” I stated. That was why he looked familiar. Varkin, my uncle by marriage to my aunt Daileeum, shared similar features with this male.
“Exactly!” my uncle proclaimed. “You must remember Varkin mentioning him.”
Tylen’s lips pinched together. He gave my uncle a veiled look, but my uncle just laughed. “Goodness, where are your manners, Primelle? It’s customary for fae to shake arms when they meet.”
The feeling of dread in me increased, and I took a step back. Something wasn’t right.
“Where’s Royden?” I demanded.
“I told you. He’s already inside. Tylen?” my uncle said, his voice dipping, an edge of coldness seeping into it.
My thoughts whirled back to the book. The God of Night. His devoted followers. Potions that were crafted. Stone temples erected in his name.
This is a trap.
I had no idea where Royden was, but I called upon my magic anyway.
I needed to get out of here, mistphase myself away to safety, even if it meant leaving the warrior behind.
This was why Kole had gone to such lengths to ensure I could learn the magical Solis feat.
This was a time when I needed to use that magic to save myself.
Magic cascaded through me, and I began to disassemble, but my uncle snarled at Tylen, and the Lochen fairy lunged forward.
Devastation rippled across Tylen’s face a second before he laid his hand on my disappearing shoulder. “I’m sorry. He has my son. I have to do this. It’s the only way to get him back.”
My mistphase abruptly stopped, and then . . . I felt it.
Something slithered into me. Strong, potent magic that was so foreign I had no idea how to describe it coated my entire essence.
My focus shot to Tylen’s.
Tylen let go of me, and I staggered backward, my body whole again. I felt my chest, my arms, my middle. I was fully intact. My mistphase had been obliterated.
Everything inside me grew smaller, smaller, smaller.
Rapid breaths lifted my chest, and horror reared inside me that Tylen had just knowingly done something to me.
I swung around, intent on getting out of this house, away from these fae. I called upon my magic again. I needed to mistphase, to disappear.
I groped internally for my magic, begging it to respond quickly.
But nothing responded.
Wildly, I felt inside me for my magic again, looked for it, searched for it, begged for it to appear.
But it was gone.
Instead of me disappearing, my magic had.
Terror seized me, even more so when my uncle gripped my shoulder from behind. He spun me around to face him, and he grinned widely, a satisfied gleam coating his eyes.
I looked between him and Tylen. “What did you do to me?” Lightheaded from my hammering heart and stifled breaths, I tried to wrench free of his grip, but my uncle’s fingers dug into me more.
He pulled me forward, his hold strengthening, and without my magic, I had nothing to protect myself with. Nothing.
“What I’ve been trying to do your whole life, Primelle.” My uncle seethed. “Until now, I wasn’t able to, but with the help of Tylen, a Lochen fairy with unique magic that the Silten don’t possess, I’ve finally been able to capture what I’ve wanted.”
Explosive fear burst my insides apart. Kole was gone. My assigned Imperial Warrior was somewhere inside, if my uncle was to be believed, and I was magicless.
“What are you?” I gazed at the Lochen fairy in horror.
Genuine remorse filled Tylen’s eyes, and he dipped his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again, so I swung my accusing glare on my uncle.
“He’s a null, Primelle,” my uncle Arnel explained. “He has the ability to nullify any fairy’s power, no matter how potent their magic is. Not even yours can withstand it, nor can an Imperial Warrior’s.”
My mouth dropped, and terror zinged through me. I thought of the sounds I’d heard, the thud, the sound of something sliding across the floor, the squeak of a door opening and closing. Oh Gods. That’d likely been Royden as they’d dragged him somewhere.
“You wrote that book,” I spat at my uncle. “You created the potion that turned those fae into creatures. All of it is from you. You’re my enemy!”
My uncle smirked. “Very good, Primelle. You put that together quite quickly, but they’re not creatures as you called them, they’re vamfeers.
My vamfeers to be exact since the God of Night chose me to create them in his name, which means they’re under my control.
” His lips lifted in a horrifying smile.
“Did my dear brother ever tell you what my talents are?” When I didn’t respond and instead continued fighting to get out of his grip, my uncle spun me until he had me locked in his arms from behind, but I still kicked and fought.
A vase from across the room abruptly flew toward us and crashed into the side of my head.
Pain exploded in my temple, and dizziness dulled my movements.
My uncle’s mouth met my ear, and he whispered, “I hold telekinetic magic too, just like you and my twin brother and your sister, but I can do more than that. I’m also an expert potion master, a talent I’ve kept hidden, and I’ve created some very interesting potions this past season.
Interesting indeed. And with help from the God of Night, I’ve finally gotten you, just as I’ve always wanted. ”
My head ached from where he’d hit me with the vase, and even though I tried to fight, tried to get away from him and his suffocating hold, my mind spun with cloudiness.
“Tylen, stay close.” My uncle’s voice sounded distant, foggy.
“I don’t know how often I’ll need you to null her magic, and as for you, Primelle .
. .” My uncle picked me up and began to carry me down his hallway toward a wide staircase at the end.
“You’re to come with me. I have much planned for you, Niece. ”
Thank you so much for reading Bindings of Lore.