Chapter 7 - Sylas
~Sylas~
All eyes were on me as I swept through the tunnels, my coat whipping behind me as I went.
I smiled to myself. The intent, curious, and reverent looks coming my way reminded me of my time at Wraeven Academy.
Being worshipped and feared in equal measure.
Couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.
From a non-ego stroking aspect, it was also a surefire sign that I’d stabilized, because they were responding to the power rolling off me.
All right, and my notorious reputation.
Being down here… I liked it.
More than that. I fucking relished it.
The Shadowed was an army but also a close-knit community.
They also had unparalleled reach and could go places no others could even hope to. They stood apart. Here, knowledge was everything, it ran the show. And I fucking well respected that. Big time. They did what needed to be done. And because of the way they were set up, they actually could do that.
They weren’t restricted—not in the way I had been when I’d tried to operate in a similar vein with my vigilante work.
This was the true underground. And I was enjoying it immensely. I was taking to it well.
Well, aside from the dark cloud hanging over me—being away from those I loved in Velra, Lazriel, and Cassius.
Being apart had been particularly straining given that it had come right after they’d endured that brutal battle with my father.
Not being there for them in the aftermath hadn’t been easy to swallow down.
But I also knew that this temporary parting was actually necessary. In order to stop that motherfucker from getting another shot at them, or doing anything like that ever again.
Until he was put down, we weren’t safe—no one was safe.
For now he was in the wind, though.
And, as much as I didn’t like the taste of unfinished business hanging in the air, strategically it was actually a positive thing.
It was buying us time to determine the most optimal way to put him down—without suffering a fuck-ton of casualties and him purposely inflicting mass collateral damage on a slew of innocents.
With him having access to both black magic and Celestial power on top of his already highly dangerous necromantic abilities, it was no small—or easy—feat.
Especially when factoring in me needing to liberate both the portion of my necromantic core and Corvin’s magic from his possession.
My loves had informed me that Ryker was working with the supreme magical mind that was Ketheron to determine a way to spare hybrid kind from mass extermination as was Puritas’ plan for Morien to carry out, using Risen Reckoning like a mammoth extinction-level event.
I took a couple of gulps of my coffee this time, then gave a dramatic bow along with a theatrical wave for good measure at those eyeing me, before I then pushed open the door to the suite I’d been assigned.
Back to work.
A whole lot of work.
I walked to the papers all over the desk, some on the bed.
A lot of it was my magical research that I’d been conducting into both Morien’s return and the damage done to the Valley of the Dead that I’d been working on a couple of weeks ago.
Remnant had retrieved it from my home, which had been warded by Cassius.
I’d given him some of my blood to be able to pass through and he’d also had a little of Cornelius Martel’s magic, just in case.
He hadn’t needed the latter as I’d suspected.
Cassius would have facilitated access to me when he’d performed the spell to protect my home after the nightmare battle, so my blood had sufficed.
Cassius had actually done more than that.
Remnant had reported to me when he’d returned that Cassius had rebuilt my entire home with his power, exactly as it had been. Of course he had. Thank you, Cas.
I downed more of my coffee, thankful that with magic-wielders also being a part of what most considered the vampiric underground, there were actually beverages other than just blood down here—and food.
Although with my magic no longer being bound, I didn’t technically need the jolt of caffeine, it had become a ritual of sorts.
I put the cup down in the one free spot clear of papers near the back of the desk, then snatched up the spell I’d written just before I’d headed to the Canteen to shovel down some oatmeal, then grab this coffee.
The chamber door whipped open and closed in rapid-fire motion, and I looked up from the spell to see Remnant now standing in the room, arms folded across the chest of his worn leather jacket as his gaze darted astutely around.
“You appear to be in much better spirits.”
He had eyes on me then.
He was talking about me swaggering through the tunnels.
“Attending to your guilt and trauma after so long burying it has helped, no?”
I eyed him steadily. “Finally stabilizing after the transplant didn’t hurt either.”
Of course he didn’t engage or follow along with my attempted deflection. Instead, he continued on our current conversational path, even deepening it.
“Have you allowed yourself to recognize that the guilt of what transpired at Glasswake Settlement does not belong to you?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“You were set up to fail. Any way you paint it, no matter what you’d done, how you’d acted, that entire situation had been manipulated to ensure you lost. You were the ammo, not the weapon.”
“That’s a very forgiving way of looking at it.”
“It’s a similar way in which what happened at the CRS facility should be viewed.”
“And, let me guess, it should also be viewed as Morien’s responsibility, his manipulation and involvement leading the way and forcing the outcomes—so many deaths at my hands?”
“Deaths, might I add, that would have happened either way, even without your direct involvement. Those at Glasswake, if you hadn’t shown up, would have been murdered by Corvin that night anyway.
Furthermore, he would have then used yet more innocents to lure you to another situation like Glasswake.
And, as for the Dark Fae, they were doomed the moment they entered the service of Morien.
He uses then discards. Death is always the price those who ally with him pay in the end. ”
“I’m well aware of Morien’s MO.” My fingers tightened around the spell I was clutching.
“And I appreciate you working to reframe what happened, but I don’t need it.
Now I’ve allowed myself to feel the guilt and…
trauma, now that I’ve forced myself to analyze it, instead of burying it—as you put it—I know I can carry it. ”
“Yes?”
I nodded.
“It takes practice, like any skill worth developing.” Emotion briefly flickered in his eyes, before he schooled his expression.
“Yes, a skill. Being who I am, doing what I do, there is a weight to bear. There are things that are expected of me, things that must be done, which not many can execute without breaking. And as Commander of The Shadowed, I must remain steady. I cannot allow guilt to make me falter, nor to compromise my judgment or the actions that I take.”
“That’s well understood.”
“I’m sensing that from you, yes. Now that you’ve ceased such heavy compartmentalization.” He dropped his arms and stepped closer, gesturing at the spell I was holding, and I noted him scanning the magical formulas, symbols, and notations I’d made. “You’ve already found a solution to the tether.”
Yeah, when we’d arrived here, he’d told me that another reason he’d brought me here was to find a way to break Nexus Letale, the tether that existed between him and Victor Halrow, one of our chief targets—the bastard who’d hurt and threatened Lazriel, and the fucking fool who was currently instrumental in keeping Morien Morgrave hidden from us and supernatural authorities.
“This isn’t an equal-weight tether. Of course, it was made to appear that way, but the truth of it was hidden with a Death Veil, the caster only wanting you and anybody else who tried to investigate the nature of it to believe that was the case.” I glared at him. “That caster being Corvin Morvain.”
“You identified his magical signature.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Right. Because of Glasswake. Well, as you can see, we’re beyond that now, I’m beyond being affected by it.
In fact, he’s already come up several times before this.
I even had to talk Ketheron down when his involvement in a lot of this insanity of late became known to him, somebody who was horrifically abused by him more than anybody else. ”
“That’s been made clear now.”
“You agreeing to any sort of tether was a major risk. You must have really cared for Victor back then to tie your life to his.”
“The dynamic between a sire and his sireling can be incredibly complicated.”
“He was both your creation and your lover? Is that it?”
“Something along those lines.” He shifted his weight, the first time I’d ever seen him uncomfortable. “I was young. It was centuries ago. He was also the first being I ever turned.”
“And now he threatens what you truly love—Lazriel.”
“Yes.”
“I heard his threats to him, his deranged comments. The fixation is disturbing and incredibly dangerous. It’s more than jealousy or even punishment intended toward you and to be exacted through your son. He wants to make Lazriel his.”
Remnant nodded. “It’s evolved from him wishing to take my son from me and to deliver him to Puritas for eradication at their extermination facility, Genexis. Now he wants Lazriel for himself.”
“As some kind of consolation prize, because he can no longer have you? You’re committed to The Shadowed and to Rhyza Thaine. So he gets to take your son from you but also keep him as a stand-in for you?”
“With Lazriel’s personality, all that primality and loving passion, unlike my stoicism I’m known for, Lazriel would suit him better. Victor has recognized that all too well.”
I screwed up my face.
I had to take a moment to temper my reaction.