Chapter 41
Evander had experienced many impossible things in his life. He had wielded the power of four elements, faced creatures born of shadow and malice, and walked through places where dark magic had reimagined the world itself.
None of it had prepared him for this.
The dimensional space was vast beyond comprehension, an expanse of light and energy that stretched endlessly in every direction. There was no floor beneath his feet, no ceiling above his head, only an infinite breadth of swirling luminescence that pulsed with every shade of white.
The air thrummed with a power so ancient, so pure it made his very soul tremble. And everywhere, drifting like leaves on an invisible current, were pieces torn off the main body of the Crimson Codex.
Dozens of them. Hundreds even. Fragments of parchment covered in cramped writing and loose sheets that glowed with arcane symbols. They spiralled around a central point where a massive tome floated, its cover pale and its pages fanning open to reveal secrets that had been hidden for centuries.
Evander’s throat constricted painfully.
Winchester hung suspended nearby, his burned face slack with rapture as he gazed upon the forbidden text. The dark mage’s arms were spread wide, the shadows around him coiling like serpents as he tapped into the ambient power of this impossible space.
“Beautiful,” he breathed. “It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined!”
Evander fought to orient himself, his stomach lurching. He had to stop Winchester from getting his hands on the Codex.
“It’s over!” he shouted, his voice echoing strangely in the endless space. “This monastery is probably surrounded by police and mages right now. You won’t escape from here!”
The dark mage’s head turned slowly, his glowing eyes fixing on Evander with something akin to amusement.
“Over?” Winchester gestured at the swirling fragments around them.
“We’ve only just begun. Do you have any idea what this place contains?
It’s the complete knowledge of the First Archmage.
Every spell, every ritual, every secret of magical theory that has been lost to time!
” His voice rose with fervour. “With this power, my master will reshape the world.”
“Your master is a madman,” Evander snarled. “And so are you if you think I’ll let you take that knowledge to him!”
Winchester laughed, an evil sound that echoed through the infinite space.
“Let me? You have no power here, Ice Mage. This is the convergence, created by the first man who wielded magic. Your pitiful elemental tricks are nothing compared to—”
Evander attacked.
Fire erupted from his palms in a blazing torrent, surprising even him as it cut through the dimensionless void toward Winchester. The dark mage’s eyes widened. He hastily raised a shield of shadows. The flames struck it with enough force to send him tumbling backward through the swirling fragments.
Evander pressed his advantage, following the fire with thick lances of ice that crystallised out of nothing, then a devastating vortex of wind that scattered the floating pages in all directions. He swallowed.
My magic. It’s stronger inside here!
Winchester recovered faster than expected. The hybrid magic he’d inherited from his master erupted around him, forming a dark and crimson sphere that deflected Evander’s attacks and redirected them into the void.
The dark mage’s face contorted with rage behind it.
“You fool! You’ll destroy everything!”
Evander fisted his hands. “That’s the idea.”
He drew deep on his reserves, pulling more power than he’d ever channelled before.
The elements responded eagerly, hungrily, as if the ancient magic permeating this space made them happy.
Fire and ice spiralled together. Wind and earth merged into a force that bent the very fabric of the dimension around them.
He hurled everything he had at Winchester.
The dark mage met his assault with a roar, his corrupt powers blasting out of him with a pressure that made Evander’s ears throb.
The two forces collided in a cataclysm of light and shadow, sending shockwaves rippling through the convergence. Fragments of the Codex scattered in all directions, some disintegrating entirely as the magical energies tore through them.
“No!” Winchester screamed. “The texts! You’re destroying them!”
Evander didn’t stop. He couldn’t. If Winchester escaped with the Codex, if that knowledge fell into the hands of the man called “I”—
The thought of Ophelia’s vision flashed through his mind, distracting him for an instant. A London decimated by ice. Bodies frozen where they stood. And at the centre of it all, a figure wreathed in power.
Him.
Winchester seized the opening.
Shadows erupted around Evander, wrapping around his limbs and throat like living chains before he could react. He gasped as they tightened, cutting off his air and disrupting his magic.
Winchester advanced through the chaos of scattered fragments, his burned face twisted with triumph.
“You should have run when you had the chance,” the dark mage hissed. “My master has plans for you, Archmage. Grand plans. He’s been watching you for a very long time.”
Evander struggled against the shadow bonds, his vision beginning to darken at the edges.
He could feel his magic straining against Winchester’s grip.
The dark mage’s power also seemed stronger here than it had been in the chamber beneath the chapel, as if it too was amplified by the ancient magic around them.
“Why?” Evander gasped, drawing on his core in one last attempt to break free. “What does he want with me?!”
Winchester’s smile was a terrible thing.
“You’ll find out soon enough. When my master completes the Codex, when he unlocks its full potential”—he leaned closer, his breath hot and foul against Evander’s face—“you’ll be the first to witness the new world he creates. And the first to kneel before him.”
Evander gritted his teeth and prepared to lift the lid on his magic.
Something stirred deep within him then.
It wasn’t his elemental power, the familiar quartet of energies that had been his companions since childhood. This was something else entirely. Something older. Deeper. Like a presence that had been sleeping in the very foundations of his soul, in a place he’d never even known existed.
It felt like recognition.
Warmth spread through his chest and settled into his bones with a rightness that defied explanation. For the briefest moment, Evander felt as if something vast and ancient had turned its attention toward him—not threatening, but curious. Searching.
And finding.
Power exploded outward from Evander’s core, so strong it robbed him of breath.
It wasn’t fire or ice or wind or earth. It was all of them and none of them—a force that belonged to no element yet encompassed them all. The shadow bonds around him didn’t just break; they ceased to exist, unravelling into nothing as the surge of energy swept through them.
Winchester flew backward with a shocked cry, his shields shattering like glass.
Evander hung suspended in the heart of the convergence, light blazing around him in a corona of pure magical force. He could see everything now. Every fragment. Every current of ancient power. The very structure of the dimensional space itself.
And, most significantly, the great tome at the centre of it all.
The main body of the Crimson Codex pulsed with recognition, its pages fluttering as if stirred by a wind only he could feel. For one impossible moment, Evander felt a connection between himself and the ancient text—a thread of understanding that transcended mere magic.
Then Winchester was moving.
The dark mage launched himself toward the book with desperate speed, shadows propelling him through the void. His hands closed around the massive tome just as Evander reached for it.
Their magics collided.
The Codex screamed.
Reality fractured around them as their opposing forces tore at the ancient text. Evander felt something give way, not in himself, but in the Codex itself. The book shuddered, its spine cracking, its pages separating.
And it split in two.
Half of the great tome ripped away in Winchester’s grasp, trailing fragments of parchment as the dark mage tumbled backward. The other half remained in Evander’s hands, heavy and warm and thrumming with a power that made his fingers tingle.
Winchester’s eyes met his across the widening gap, fury and triumph warring in those glowing depths.
“This isn’t over, Ravenwood!” the dark mage snarled. “My master will have what’s his. All of it!”
Shadows erupted around Winchester, wrapping him in a cocoon of darkness. Evander lunged forward. But he was too slow.
The dark mage was already fading.
“We’ll meet again, Archmage,” Winchester’s voice echoed darkly as he disappeared. “And next time, you won’t be so lucky!”
Then he was gone, taking half of the Crimson Codex with him.
The convergence shuddered around Evander. Without Winchester’s magic to sustain it and the complete main fragment to anchor it, the dimensional space began to collapse. The infinite space contracted around Evander, the swirling fragments dissolving into nothing as reality reasserted itself.
He clutched his half of the Codex to his chest and let the shrinking dimension carry him back toward the tear through which he’d entered.
Light blazed. Sound roared.
And then he was falling.
Evander crashed onto cold stone, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. The half-Codex tumbled from his weak grip and landed beside him with a thud. He could only lie there, gasping, as his exhausted body and drained mind struggled to process what had just happened.
“Evander!”
Viggo’s voice cut through the ringing in his ears. Then strong hands were lifting him, cradling him against a broad chest. Viggo’s face swam into view, pale with fear, his dark eyes wild with relief.
“You’re alive,” the Brute breathed. “Thank God, you’re alive!”
He hugged Evander tightly.
Evander could feel the Brute’s heart drumming rapidly against his own chest. He managed a weak smile.
“It will take more than a collapsing dimensional space to kill me.”
Fairbridge appeared at Viggo’s shoulder, his usually composed features wracked with concern. Evander looked around slowly.
The chamber beneath the chapel was in ruins. A pale light filtered down from a breach in the ceiling. The ritual circle had been destroyed, its carefully drawn symbols scrubbed out and scorched. The bodies of the dark mages Viggo and Fairbridge had defeated littered the ground.
“What happened in there?” Viggo asked in a strained voice.
Evander looked at the half-Codex lying beside him. Even incomplete, he could feel its power thrumming against his senses. Old, dangerous, and now partially in their possession.
“Winchester escaped. He took half the main body of the Codex with him.”
Viggo’s expression darkened. “Half?”
“The book split when we fought over it.” Evander pushed himself up to sitting, shocked by the unnatural weakness in his limbs and wincing at the protest of bruised muscles.
He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a Brute in a fighting ring.
A rumble shook the chamber. Dust rained down from the ceiling. Another tremor, stronger this time, followed by the sound of an explosion. Cracks spiderwebbed across the walls.
Alarm twisted Evander’s chest.
“The monastery!” Fairbridge barked. “It’s collapsing!”
“We need to move,” Viggo said grimly. “Now.”
He hauled Evander to his feet. Evander scooped up the half-Codex and tucked it securely inside his shirt with trembling fingers. Whatever secrets it contained, whatever power it held, he would not let it fall into enemy hands.
They ran.
The monastery groaned with a sound that seemed to herald the end of the world as they emerged inside the chapel. Walls buckled and cracked. Floors tilted at impossible angles.
The ancient structure that had stood for centuries was tearing itself apart, stone by stone.
As they fled through the crumbling corridors, the uncanny sensation Evander had experienced inside the convergence lingered deep inside him.
A quiet presence that hadn’t been there before.
He didn’t know what it meant, didn’t understand what had awakened inside the dimensional space created by the First Archmage.
But whatever it was, it had saved him.