Chapter 17 Winter #2
“You’re not gonna be the only one doing it from now on, then. I wish you’d told me just how bad this is for you, how bad it’s been my whole life. I could’ve been there, taken some of the load off.”
“Win, it’s—call your necromantic power. Now!”
The Animated Fleshwork were upon us.
Wow. I was a big distraction to him out in the field.
He seemed to be fighting himself between being his super protective self and stepping back, but trying to find a balance where it didn’t mean me getting hurt, overwhelmed, or touching something dark or worrying power-wise while we were in high-level Necromancy mode the entire time training.
My amber magic sparked on my palms, just a second before he sent a sweeping crimson wave at the forty beings almost upon us.
I jolted as it sent them careening back nearly fifty feet.
Then he moved in—to do the spell, it looked like.
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “I’ll handle it.”
He hesitated for a moment, before telling me, “All right, take the five over in the far corner on the east side of the beach.”
“I meant, I’ll actually handle it, Dad. The entire thing.”
“Son—”
“You’ve gone over the spell mechanics with me a dozen times. I know what to do. It’s basically engraved in my brain at this point.”
He sucked in a breath.
And then he took a few steps back and gestured for me to go on ahead. “Just be mindful of the power rush once you hit the lightning aspect. Focus on the intent, not the thrill. Other things, other spells, that’s okay. Not this, though. Never this.”
“I know. I remember you telling me that’s how Risen Reckoning can rage out of control all too quickly.”
“Good,” he said, with a smile, then moved further off to the side. “Have at it.”
He even snuffed out his power and kept his hands down by his sides.
He was really letting me take all of this.
I moved into the center of the incoming onslaught.
Well, it wasn’t really an onslaught. Especially after I’d soothed them.
They just needed to be released.
But what if—
I swung my head toward my dad.
Before I could get a word out, he told me, “No. It won’t hurt them.
They can’t feel physical pain in the way living things do, remember?
They may scream and snarl, but that’s the black magic resisting the natural order of the dead returning from whence they came.
I call it screaming back to hell, but I really don’t think you’ll be down with that. ”
“Jeez, Dad. That’s brutal.”
“Told you.” He lifted a shoulder. “I have to lighten it up when I’m doing it. Dark humor and all that.”
“Very dark and disturbing humor.”
He chuckled. “Each to their own.”
No.
He was covering.
I could see it all over him.
He didn’t like that he’d developed that level of apathy.
There were exceptions to that, obviously—those he loved, those he cared about.
But with this sort of thing, it was just how he was now. I wasn’t sure if it could even be undone once somebody became capable of that.
The sad thing was, I could see why he’d had to develop that. His life… it hadn’t been like mine. He hadn’t had anyone there to provide safety and care for him. He’d had it ripped away far too young. And he’d been bearing this Last Necromancer burden for so long too.
“Win, you want to call it off?”
I jolted. “What? No.”
“Then get to it, Littlest Necromancer.”
“You are not calling me that.”
“Best get to it, then, hmm?”
I shook my head at him.
Then I shifted my stance and called my power in a controlled rush, my amber magic sparking on both upturned palms.
All right, got it.
Here we go.
I heard my dad make a sound, wanting to talk, but he stopped himself.
No backseat necromancing apparently.
Wow.
Time to live up to that faith he was showing in me.
And I could.
I knew I could.
I’d been doing so well with all of this—picking up the theory and even the complex spellwork much more easily than I’d thought I would be able to.
It just… felt right.
Part of me.
One I’d been denying myself, but was now meeting in full.
I called more power.
Not enough.
He’d said a mammoth amount was needed to hit the atmosphere and generate enough energy to call flash lightning. And even to then wield it accurately and for long enough to flood the area required.
My amber fire flamed.
Higher.
Higher still.
Something in me unlocked, and then it was shooting up into the sky tens of feet into the air, splitting the dark night under my might. Fucking blazing and blazing.
It tore through me—but not painfully. Quite the opposite.
It was like that amazing sensation from the time my dad had trained me to hold my power stream and escalate. But even beyond that.
And when the lightning sparked as a result, becoming sparks of lashing and blindingly bright and vicious flash lightning within seconds, it was another level altogether.
“Fuck… yes,” I choked.
Yes. Yes. Fucking yes!
This was… this was it. The feeling.
“Hold your focus on the task!”
I blinked at my dad’s voice.
Right.
Of course.
I looked out to see the Animated Fleshwork were drawing so close now.
I slammed my palms together, creating a crazy shockwave with all that power. It radiated out and swept through the Animated Fleshwork in a tidal wave of flooding, sparking amber.
It hit all of them.
Sighs of tranquility escaped them. My soothing had sustained and helped all the way through.
Then all forty of them dropped right there, their spirits now gone, back in the Valley of the Dead where they’d been ripped from by those two sorcerers.
“Incredible work, Win.”
I smiled.
Now all that was left was to send their bodies back to their correct graves.
To do that I had to end Risen Reckoning and use a normal sweep of magic.
I went to call my power back.
But… no.
Not yet.
I just wanted a moment with it, to enjoy it.
I closed my eyes, letting it roll over me.
Holy. Fuck.
“Winter, the spell is done. Call it back.”
More. More.
Just a little more.
I thrust my hands back up toward the sky.
More lightning sparked, becoming way more ferocious.
The sensation was spectacular. Like pins and needles, but not the unsettling kind.
Just… perfect.
So right.
Euphoric beyond belief.
“Regain control.”
No.
I threw my head back and allowed it to encompass me.
My flames raged wilder, higher and almost violent.
The amber lightning shot out everywhere.
I felt a rush of my dad’s power.
Huh. Looked like he’d just erected a glamor.
Why? I was fine.
I was just basking in it.
“Winter, get control back! You have it in you! I’ve seen it. Don’t let this overpower you. Your fear will not become reality! You control that! You can control this!”
His voice sounded so far away now.
I needed to grasp it, to hold onto it.
Something was urging me to do it desperately.
Now.
Right now.
I blinked, but everything was hazy.
I saw my flames. They were too wild. Too out of control.
I panicked, my heart thundering, my body starting to shake.
I tried to pull my power back, but it resisted me.
“Dad! I can’t! I can’t do it! Help!”
“Fuck, I can’t. It needs to be you, or that feeling will settle.
This is how it began for your grandfather.
Letting that power rush control him, letting that god-like feeling into his mind, losing all sense of true self for the sake of a fucking thrill.
And the darkness built from there. With this being such a severe fear of yours, there’s a real danger of this eating at you in the same way.
But you’re my son! You’re stronger than that! You’re better than that!”
“Dad! Please!”
“I need you to do this. Mom, Pops, Father… we need you to do this. Your loves do.”
“It shouldn’t be here… this need for the… thrill… power-hungry…”
“It’s not all you. Ruxnoth influenced you.
I know it, okay? I know about it. And I can’t get it out.
Not yet. So I need you to fight like you’ve been doing so well with.
Please, Win. My sweet and gentle son. Hold onto that.
Onto you. Not any of them—not my fucking father, not Ruxnoth, not Temperance and their bullshit fears about you.
Not anyone. Stay with me! Stay with us, son! Stay!”
Ruxnoth?
Of course!
Of course it was that bastard.
He’d made me need that living warmth—like an addiction. And now this. He’d opened that up in me or something.
No. No!
I wasn’t… that.
I wouldn’t be that.
I tried again to pull my power back, while shoving that fulfilling sensation away, trying to separate it from my consciousness—downplay it, even.
There!
I could feel the way through.
But then I jolted, my concentration breaking, losing my hold on what I needed to do, when I felt a wave of high-level power whipping through the immediate area.
What was—
My dad’s voice reached me. And he sounded pissed.
But it wasn’t directed at me.
“What are you doing here?”
“The colossal expulsion of necromantic power.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got it, Ry.”
Ry? Ryker Morgan was here?
“Your glamor isn’t going to hold if his power levels reach any higher. There are civilians who were alerted. If they see this—”
“Keep it down. Don’t scare him. Just go. It’s under control. My control.”
“Sylas—”
“He’s my son. Stay out of it.”
“Like Ariana is my daughter? No. It’s more than that with a supremely powerful child like this and you’re well aware of that fact.”
“I know what you’re getting at, and yes, of course I’ll stop him if it comes to it.”
“Can you, though?”
“What?”
“Are you certain you can stop him? This level of power… you’re sure it’s not beyond yours?”
“I. Will. Handle. It.”
“You might need to channel me. Ambrose is also on his way.”
“It’s not necessary. None of it. Nobody is touching my son! Do you fucking hear me?”
“Sylas—”
“I swear to fuck, Ryker, if you so much as flick a spark of power at him—”
“Sylas! Stop. Do not finish that sentence.”
I jolted. That last voice belonged to Ambrose.
Then I heard a faint, “Tiny god, no. Please, no.”
Ketheron had come with him.