Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Athick, sticky substance sloshed around Erinna’s arm and gurgled to life at her disturbance.
She tugged herself free of the goop and met viscous resistance.
Like moving through chilled honey. She yanked her arm free.
Dark blue sludge dripped from her hand to the floor in loud spurts.
Erinna’s breath hitched and quickened as the substance boiled over, like a pot of soup left on the fire for too long.
“Afton!” she cried, hoping the apprentice could hear her.
Kane was the first to arrive. He hauled her to her feet and away from the creeping substance.
“I told you to stay put!”
Afton arrived soon after. Furious. “I told you not to go through anything suspicious!”
“I’m sorry. I just…”
“Wasn’t thinking!?” Afton hissed.
They struggled with the lid, trying to close the chest to no avail.
“That’s primordial arcanum. The same thing the Veil is made of, except some witch found a way to possess it.”
Kane stiffened. “Put it back, Yarrow.”
Erinna furrowed her brow in confusion but followed his gaze to her hand. The goo had collected in a ball nestled in her palm. She squeezed it gently, and the object morphed to accommodate. She pulled her fingers away, clean of blue liquid.
“It’s not fair. Being trapped in there for so long,” she said, but the words did not come from her own volition. Someone or something else was speaking through her. A thick, heavy compulsion settled within her. Her willpower being slowly crushed by some invisible force.
Afton took a step closer to Erinna, hands raised and ready to assist in some way, before Kane caught his shoulder.
“Put the damned thing back now before it eats you alive.” The command was sharp but landed among her hazy thoughts.
She shook her head, mind growing hazier. It was lulling her into complacency, looking for a way inside.
“I think it wants to help us.”
Kane took a cautious step closer. “Look at your hands, Yarrow.”
Her gaze shifted from the undulating orb to her taut and bony fingers. She tried to stretch the joints but couldn’t feel anything below her wrist. It was sucking the life out of her.
“Take it from me,” she wheezed out.
“Sorry, but we would only suffer the same fate.” Afton muttered a few things beneath his breath and summoned arcanum around himself, but it was clear he was comfortable with her life as a casualty.
“No worse than the fate I’ve suffered for centuries within that prison.” It was in her voice, but Erinna was not the one speaking.
Kane glared. “Show it what you are, Erinna. It won’t want you then.”
“What nonsense do you speak, half-breed?”
“You’re running out of time, Erinna.”
Erinna took a breath and held his stare, then called for the aid of her Talent. It didn’t take long for the mess of arcanum in her hand to jitter in response. It formed sharp needles and pricked at the skin of her palm. She bit through the sting and fought through the compulsion.
“Goddamned witch!” it spat, though this time the voice came from the substance itself. Erinna pulled harder on her Talent, willing threads of arcanum to bind and protect her. Ice flooded her system, freezing her veins, but at least she could feel something.
The substance dripped from her hand, and she could feel her Talent reach for the threads of life that had been taken from her. It weaved stolen time back into her skin. Back where it belonged.
Erinna keeled over and retched up bile and black ichor.
Kane and Afton corralled the substance back into the box, fire and enchantment cornering it until there was nowhere else to run. No one else to consume. They slammed the lid shut with resounding force.
“How did you know?” she wheezed once the coughing stopped.
“Honestly, I took a lucky guess.” Kane shrugged and offered up his hand. She accepted his help with a healthy level of embarrassment.
Afton still fumed beside Kane. Erinna wanted to shirk away from his fury, like a child who had just been scolded.
He was right. She made a stupid decision, and it could have cost her life. It wasn’t like her to be so careless. But the mark on the crate was too enticing, and whatever it contained called to some primitive nature she usually tried to bury.
The Minor Apprentice secured the box with a hastily made abjurative seal. Mages were trained in the basics of all schools of arcanum but usually excelled in one.
It was painfully clear to Erinna how out of her depth she was.
Lost among words of arcanum and incantations, nothing made sense.
Yet these two had a level of competence she would beg for.
If only she had paid more attention to Damien’s musings.
She reached for the bracelet. It hadn’t warned her. It didn’t sense arcanum.
“What was that? It didn’t use arcanum.”
Afton’s eyes flickered to Erinna’s wrist. “That was the Yaga. Some witch ripped her own soul in half for immortality, only to become that wretched goo. It uses something older than arcanum.”
“Is that even possible? Immortality?”
Kane and Afton exchanged a look. One Erinna was growing tired of.
“Occasionally, some people have such capable manipulation of the arcanum that they can find ways around aging and death. But as you can see, it is not pretty or worth it. Iprix was an exception.”
That would explain the Chancellor’s many years of life. He must be one graced with the ability to extend it through sheer power alone.
Erinna eyed the stars on the box again. “Where is it from?”
“The Yaga? Too old for even Iprix to remember.”
“No, the crate.”
Afton gave her a puzzled look. “Umm, some old kingdom in the north, I think.” He turned to Kane. “You have anything to add?”
Kane scanned the top of the wooden chest, eyeing the constellation crest, and then sent a pointed look to Erinna. “Yeah, it’s certainly from the north. But it’s pretty old. I have no idea where it might have come from.”
Erinna frowned and tried not to let her disappointment show too much.
Afton let out a sigh and turned to resume his search. “Curses are in the back. Three rows down, two full shelves.”
Erinna’s jaw tightened. Of course they are. She’d just spent the better part of an hour stumbling through this maze, and he’d known the entire time exactly where she needed to go.
As if sensing her thoughts, Afton paused mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder. “You may want to look into the nature of transmutations while you’re at it. There should be a book on the relationship between the two. They manipulate arcanum with similar properties.”
Transmutations.
The word echoed in her memory, but she couldn’t quite place why it seemed so familiar. Important, even.
Erinna filed it away, though she wasn’t sure what good it would do her. The mark on her arm wasn’t changing anything—it was just there, waiting.
“I'll go with her,” Kane said, his tone carefully neutral. “Make sure she doesn’t kill herself.”
“Whatever you want.” Afton flicked his wrist in dismissal.
“When you hear a bell, meet back in the first room. Otherwise, you’ll be trapped in here for the rest of your lives.
Which will be short once Haru finds you.
” He said it so casually, like he was warning them not to forget their coats.
Then he disappeared behind a tower of books and scrolls, leaving Erinna and Kane alone.
Kane bent over, his face so close to hers his lips nearly brushed against her ear. “I believe we have a deal, Yarrow.”
Her pulse jumped. Answers. Finally, actual answers about the mark, about her father, about why her blood had decided to turn traitor. She managed a nod, keeping her expression steady even as anticipation coiled tight in her chest.
She jerked her chin up, meeting his gaze. “Lead the way, Atwater.”