Chapter 2 #2
A mystical film enveloped me, the work of my magic-wielders that temporarily shielded me from the sun.
They’d applied it within moments, enabling me to move swiftly when Ketheron had reached out to me without needing to concern myself with it being daylight.
And although the sun couldn’t harm me within a magical construct like this pocket dimension, the shield remained.
With the situation concerning Winter being fluid, I couldn’t currently predict when I’d need to burst outside this dimension and back into broad daylight again.
Ketheron started and I blinked as Sylas slammed his violently glowing palms together, then let out a snarl.
The crimson lightning lashing and snapping through the fabricated horizon shuddered, then stilled, before being dragged back to Sylas, folding back into him.
At the same time, every shredded tree, plant, and scorched scrap of earth wove back into being, into whole, stitching and regrowing, reforming, as the death magic retracted.
He threw his head back as his magic flooded back into him in a formidable rush that would have been overwhelming to most, yet which he absorbed with a mere shudder and flaming of his eyes.
“What on earth?” Ketheron exclaimed.
We weren’t afforded the time to process the near-impossibility of such intense rage becoming utter calm and unbelievable control so suddenly, before Sylas then teleported right in front of us.
He gestured at his Nexus Band ring. He, Lazriel, Velra, and Cassius all possessed a Nexus Band which enabled the four of them to monitor each other’s wellbeing.
He’d informed us that he had muted his just before he’d teleported to Winter’s aid earlier, so as not to alert the other three and create a great deal of unrestrained panic.
“Your cover story to Ryker that will have spread throughout the higher echelons of the supernatural world by now offered an explanation for my loves feeling this suddenly being ‘offline’. They would’ve believed the ring was struck, temporarily shorted out, any number of things.
With my power, Ambrose’s, Ketheron’s, Winter’s involved, it’s believable enough. But they also know me.”
“You would have found a way to fix it swiftly,” Ketheron spoke.
Sylas nodded. “Which is why we need to hurry. Keeping Winter’s abduction from them is not sitting well with me as it is. He’s our son, they deserve to know, but—”
“This is beyond just a family matter,” I cut in. And thankfully he was recognizing that.
He winced. “Yes.” Shifting his weight, he told us, “Due to the constraints involved, it took longer than I would have liked to determine some actionable solutions.”
“Excuse me? You’re telling us that you were meditating on it, performing a Ruminat, while raging with your magic?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. Why?”
Ketheron’s lips quirked. “Uncanny.”
“Winter’s necklace that his mom made for him is a form of a Nexus Band.
When I first arrived at the dark sands beach, after finding no magical signature—neither Ruxnoth’s nor Winter’s, meaning that motherfucker is now also glamoring that as well—I attempted to pull on the necklace’s essence.
But there was nothing to latch onto. Given what the Nexus Band is capable of, it’s clear Winter has muted it.
He’s been muting it for a while now. I’d just hoped that he would have undone that limitation in time before his capture. ”
“You knew he was muting it?” I asked.
“Yes. We all did, as it’s something we can all feel—or were supposed to be able to feel.
To ensure his wellbeing when he left the family home for Loxley Academy.
But Winter… he’s been suffocated by our protection his whole life, so we let it go, hoping he just needed time and distance.
Obviously, that was the wrong decision.”
“You didn’t know about Ruxnoth,” Ketheron said.
“And I only just determined his involvement—and even his presence—myself. I swear it, Sylas. I would have come to you. It was why I’d called Winter to me earlier.
And to cleanse any residue of Ruxnoth’s infection from his system.
Following that, I was going to convince Winter to bring this situation to you and the family. ”
Sylas laid his hand on Ketheron’s shoulder. “I know, K. I don’t doubt it. I also know Winter put you in a difficult position.” He winced. “Because he was in a difficult position himself. He didn’t want to be pulled back under our protection so intensely again. He wants to be free.”
“More than that,” I spoke. “He wants you to be free. Of the burden of his protection. What he sees as a burden, anyway. Of course, in truth, it is not. But he is only viewing things from the vantage point of a son. Not a parent.”
Sylas gave a nod of acknowledgement, then asked Ketheron, “Did you destroy the substance Winter asked you to research? That which we now know was Ruxnoth’s attempt to both mentally bond with him, and to extract his necromantic power for his own use?”
“I still have it.” Ketheron tensed. “Why?”
“The means to track Winter are very limited. But there are still options available.”
Ketheron started shaking his head. “No. Not that.”
“Ruxnoth used this to also tag Winter, yes?”
Ketheron winced. “Yes,” he admitted with great reluctance.
“The substance was inside my son. It tried to influence him. With its purpose also as a deeply insidious magical tracker, I’ll reverse engineer it to locate Winter.”
I grasped Sylas’ wrist. “Ketheron has informed us that Ruxnoth is a True Celestial wielding a perversion of that extreme level of power. If you do this, you’d have to make yourself vulnerable to that.”
“You’d have to take it into yourself. He could take your necromantic power,” Ketheron added.
“I can nullify what he takes. It’s my power, connected to me. Even when it’s, for want of a better word, loose… out in the world.”
“How quickly, though? What if Ruxnoth uses it immediately? On Winter?”
“Or he could infuse it into Winter,” I pointed out.
“Given his intent to form a bond with Winter, he believes him to be corruptible, able to be influenced at his young age, with his inexperience, especially because he refused your teachings of higher-level Necromancy. You are not able to be turned. That’s been proven several times over and it’s well-known throughout the supernatural world.
The downside of it for Ruxnoth, however, is that Winter’s power does not currently compare to yours.
He’ll need time to remedy that. If he was provided your power, though, and infused it into Winter, that would be another thing entirely.
Alas, the ramifications would be catastrophic—an inexperienced necromancer having access to your supreme power that he does not know how to wield…
.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “The outcome would be apocalyptic.”
Sylas ground his jaw and tugged at his hair.
“Then I need you to supercharge this ring,” he told Ketheron, touching the gold ring encircling his thumb.
It was something Ketheron had gifted him so Sylas could invoke Celestial-level protection briefly in order to safeguard himself during his work with Requital.
Ketheron had insisted on it after the true nightmare of Morien where the megalomaniac had channeled Celestial power—and black magic—alongside Necromancy, which had nearly destroyed Sylas and us all.
Sylas eyed me. “And I’m going to need to ingest your blood if this takes a turn.”
“To what end?” I asked. “What’s your idea?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hooded leather coat. “I’m going to perform a Blood Trace.”
I jolted.
Ketheron and I exchanged a look of deep concern.
My own son had found me through a Blood Trace spell that Sylas had performed upon him at his request. It was a brutal undertaking that could track a direct blood relation, which was technically supposed to be from child to parent.
“That spell is horrific enough without what you clearly intend to do—perform a reverse engineered version of it,” I warned Sylas.
“Not to mention, you also have a Death Seal in place,” Ketheron pointed out.
“What is the Death Seal source?” I asked.
He’d never told me. I knew that Winter couldn’t be tracked through Velra, no one could use her to do that.
With her Dark Fae side of her Wraith-Dark Fae hybridized nature, she’d fused her blood with Fae illusionary magic which would corrupt any attempt.
But Sylas could only achieve that with his blood link to his son through a Death Seal, which involved murdering a being and melding that death with the Blood Trace results to make it appear that the one being tracked was deceased.
Sylas looked away.
An awful sign.
“Sylas?” I pressed.
He cleared his throat. “As you know, after everything that’s happened, including the fear surrounding Necromancy thanks to the actions of my father during the Hybrid Liberation War, I can’t go around fucking murdering people.
Especially not for my own benefit.” His gaze flicked back to us.
“But there was one being’s death that was most definitely sanctioned, one being who I dealt with in the aftermath to ensure there was no Valley of the Dead afterlife for him, no chance of resurrection.
I had the forethought during those moments that this safeguard would be needed for Winter. ”
“Hades,” Ketheron exclaimed, the realization hitting him, just as it did me.
“Morien Morgrave,” I uttered. “You used the essence of his death to create the Death Seal.”
“Only I bear the weight of that. Winter can’t feel it. It will never touch him. Nothing about that psychopath ever will.”
“Sylas, with a Death Seal in place, I can’t perform this spell,” Ketheron reminded him. “The seal needs to be overcome by a being who operates on the same twilight resonance as a necromancer. A Shadowmancer, a Wraith like Velra, or an experienced black magic user.”