Chapter 2
~Remnant~
“My son! My blood! My boy! No! No!”
Sylas’ roars thundered through the area.
The wrath of his magic shook the very ground beneath our feet.
Violent eruptions of crimson power raged outward from his position one hundred feet away, lightning sparking, pulses radiating out, death magic tainting the surroundings.
Necromantic fury bleeding out.
Ketheron stood beside me grimacing, emotion welling in his eyes as he tugged at his T-shirt. Despite his upset and to his utmost credit, he had made a sound tactical decision earlier in snatching up Sylas and Ambrose from the beach, and bringing them here to this pocket dimension.
And then contacting me.
No one else.
The more people who were made aware of this, the more likely things would escalate beyond repair.
The more likely the situation would hit critical threshold.
If that came to pass, it could become something none of us would walk away from.
Winter being abducted by a True Celestial wielding a perversion of Celestial magic and possessing a twisted gift for ultimate corruption was no small thing.
Winter Nox was the only truly everlasting being in existence.
Beyond the immortality of magic-wielders, of vampires. Even myself as an Ancient. Even Ariana Martel and Ketheron could technically be killed. Winter, however, was a subversion of the balance of nature.
So if he was turned, the world would be confronted with a perilously formidable enemy who could never truly fall. A being who had the ability to decimate this plane, all others, even the Valley of the Dead itself if he was fully unleashed—especially without conscience and forethought.
Winter wasn’t aware of this as our family had shielded him from it, but he had been monitored by the higher echelons of the supernatural world since the moment of his birth.
There were contingencies in place should he ever take a dark or dangerous turn.
Contingencies that, if activated, would destroy us all by extension and destabilize so much.
If the Guardian Movement acted against Winter, a war unlike any that had come before would reign unchecked.
Sylas would mobilize Requital—and himself.
Velra, the Dark Fae Realm.
Cassius would cross Ariana by targeting her father, Ryker Morgan as Head of the Guardian Movement.
That, in turn, would make enemies out of Kai and Sylas, because the former would defend her.
I would mobilize The Shadowed.
It was even likely now due to Winter’s close relationship with the Basilisk High Lord Heir of the Excetra Crown, that it would mobilize the Basilisk Kingdom on our behalf.
In essence, it would be what my son would term “a shitshow”.
Of epic proportions.
In fact, it wouldn’t be hyperbolic to state that it would be the end.
Of everything.
So, yes, with all of that being a factor, it made Winter’s abduction far beyond just a family matter.
And we had to treat it as such.
Alas, while I stood on the steps of the gray stone mansion observing Sylas breaking down, I was greatly concerned as to whether he could manage that.
We were alike in our ability to remain rational, tactical, and levelheaded through whatever came our way. No matter the chaos, the agony, the insanity that inundated us from external circumstances, from our numerous enemies over the years.
But this was his son.
And I knew well from my own son in Lazriel, what an impact that could have on the ability to compartmentalize, to maintain clarity of thought, to view the bigger picture that our roles and our power demanded of us—the responsibility that it afflicted us with.
Winter was also my grandson. A part of Lazriel. So him being taken had cut at me fiercely.
Had.
I’d employed my compartmentalization immediately after Ketheron had brought me here to this pocket dimension he and Cassius had crafted two decades ago, and debriefed me on the situation.
With Sylas’ reaction being so very severe, I could not meet his emotion with mine.
It wouldn’t provide comfort to him when he was in this state, anyway.
It would only endorse his out-of-control current disposition.
Something that could not be allowed to continue much beyond this.
I knew that was why Ketheron had called on me specifically.
With a millennium under my belt, he was aware of my ability to do this.
And also well aware of the deep respect that Sylas had for me and my counsel.
I turned to Ketheron, the sound of him clicking his nails in distress drawing my attention.
“Ambrose will wake shortly. There was no permanent damage. And there will be no superficial damage remaining either once he surfaces from the healing sleep he is currently immersed in.”
His relationship with Ambrose Wisteryn had come as a surprise to many.
In actual fact it had been the culmination of an emotional bond formed decades prior, yet one neither had been prepared to deepen that until evolution had occurred on either side.
Despite common perception, Ketheron’s need to develop emotionally and socially hadn’t been the chief reason their connection had evolved so very slowly.
I’d known Ambrose far too well to believe that.
He’d operated much like a force, sweeping here and there, rather than a being with any sort of roots—nor the intent to set down any.
He’d long refrained from emotional attachment beyond that of allyship and general care for a select few allies he was close with.
At least until the intensity between him and Ketheron could no longer be denied, pushing Ambrose to finally reckon with that approach.
“I am aware,” Ketheron responded. “Thank you.”
Unfortunately, the relief I was able to provide him was only partial. Winter, who was very much like a brother to him, was still in danger.
“You are certain there was no trace of deviant Celestial magic at the abduction site?” I asked.
“There is no doubt in my mind. That demon concealed his presence. Magical signature, scent, all traces. It read as though he had never been there at all. An unfortunate side effect, however, being that we were unable to track him and pursue.”
It was imperative that a being practicing a perversion of True Celestial magic hadn’t been registered, especially given that he’d abducted Winter.
I’d already had to devise a cover story, which I’d communicated to Ryker Morgan.
Within a very short timeframe, a great deal of power from several sources had erupted across the dark sands beach.
Ambrose’s high-intensity black magic. Sylas’ unleashed Necromancy in his bid to get to Winter.
Ketheron’s panicked arrival, which had caused him to employ a sudden rush of power that would have been felt by other powerful beings in the supernatural world as unstable unleashing.
And that didn’t even account for whatever Winter had let loose upon Ruxnoth.
The three of us hadn’t witnessed that. But it had been enough to trip Sylas’ necromantic radar, causing him to hurtle down there, wherein he’d then seen Winter being taken.
Ketheron had been alerted because Winter had been forced from his teleportation path as he’d been headed to him in Meforian Forest. We knew from that point that Ambrose had intervened—hence the location shifting to the beach where the entrance to one of Ambrose’s protected planes resided.
Until Ambrose roused, we wouldn’t know more than that.
What we already did know was bad enough. Especially the infection Winter had suffered from due to Ruxnoth’s twisted efforts, something Ketheron had conveyed to us.
But as far as Ryker was aware, Sylas had been conducting a high-level necromantic training exercise with Winter, assisted by Ambrose, with Ketheron also standing by as a last line of defense.
Fortunately, Ryker had accepted that as it had already been known that Sylas would take Winter on as his apprentice in a more official capacity.
“Ruxnoth is not ready for his presence on this plane to be known to the wider world,” Ketheron commented. “Hence the glamoring.”
“I believe it’s more insidious than that.”
He arched an eyebrow. “How so?”
“He’s clearly been studying Winter and his place in the wider world.”
“I see. You believe Ruxnoth approached this the way he did to trap us, wherein he is permitted time with Winter without blowback or interference, because he knows we cannot report his abduction without causing mass panic and severe defensive responses against Winter? He is forcing us to keep it quiet, while he gets what he wants.”
I scrubbed my hand over my face. “In essence.”
I had my metal mask used to conceal my identity in the pocket of my coat, but it wasn’t needed here. Not with Sylas. Not with Ketheron. He was family. And Ambrose already knew my identity.
And we were currently on private ground inside a pocket dimension, one that had been created by Ketheron and Cassius two decades ago.
It had also been used to detain both Velra’s brother, Sorin, for a time.
And, more personal to me, Victor, my first sireling—before I’d unmade him with some assistance from Sylas.
He’d laid hands on my son. That alone had warranted such an irreversible sentence of absolute death.
Cease.
The fact I’d been able to register that emotional reaction didn’t bode well for my compartmentalization being stable enough.
I’d been far too relaxed these last several years.
The burden of The Shadowed had been lessened due to Requital’s existence and Sylas’ presence, so I’d been able to spend a great deal of time with my son, his family, and his mother, the love of my life, Rhyza.
So, perhaps, that had taken a toll on my ability to shut down so easily.