Chapter 38 （Samantha）Resurrection
Elaine had been gone for over two days. I expected her to be back tonight or tomorrow. I hoped she found the other piece of the artifact, which was critical to the revival of dragons. Otherwise, the girl would be useless, and I’d have to find it myself.
I hoped it didn’t come to that.
Nevertheless, it was time to take care of Oswald. The sleeping poison I had poured into his meal had weakened him just as I had planned, allowing me to separate the two mages.
I put on my long yellow ball gown. The top was bustier, and the bottom was silk. It came down to the floor in layers, held together with ribbons. I loved how I looked in this dress and how my hair and eyes seemed even darker.
Viktor moved in our bed, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.
“Up already?” he asked before looking me up and down. “Oh, you’re such a beauty in that dress,” he complimented. “I’d eat you in it.” His grin showed off his canines.
I blushed and batted my eyes. “Thank you.”
I moved closer to him, kissing his lips softly, but his strong arms grabbed me before I pulled away, pulling me onto the bed.
“It would be better without clothes,” he commented, and I chuckled.
“I know, but I must get to the throne room.”
Viktor winced at my words. “What have you gotten so important to do early like this?”
He released me, and I pushed my dress back into place with my hands. “I must take care of the elves before the other mage returns.”
He nodded. I’d informed him of my plans, and he supported me fully, as a husband should. “Do you need me to come with you?”
A rush of power coursed through my veins, reminding me that Alastor supported me in my holy quest.
“That’s kind, but it won’t be necessary.”
He lazily lay back down with a big grin. “Perfect. Then I’ll sleep in a little longer.”
I left the room, a smile hanging on my lips .
I headed for the throne room, where Lysander was already waiting.
“Summon the elven guards,” I ordered as I went to sit on my throne.
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Lysander replied as he left the room.
I waited only a few minutes before the doors opened. The two guards were wondering why I had called them.
“Mage Oswald indicated this morning that you should return to your kingdom,” I lied.
“Where is he?” one of them asked. “I want to see him.”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid he’s inconvenienced and can’t come. But he said he’d wait for Elaine to come back and then return with her. He stressed the importance of not keeping His Majesty Erendriel waiting any longer and that you should turn in your report.”
The two guards hesitated, unsure how to respond. I then added, “Be sure to thank His Majesty for the service he has rendered. The union between our races is a blessing.”
Both guards bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you for your hospitality,” replied the second guard before leaving.
I took a deep breath, watching them leave. Now that I’d gotten rid of them, all I had to do was deal with Oswald.
I headed for the guest room. I hadn’t even needed to imprison the elf. I’d asked Lysander to pour sleeping poison into his mouth daily so the mage wouldn’t wake up. No one could reach him with a spell as he was in one of the shielded rooms. The poison prevented his magical powers from restoring him, and the sleeping part kept him asleep. It was so easy, I was surprised myself.
Weakened like this, the elf had no chance.
The elf’s yellow skin contrasted with the dark blue of the blankets of the bed he was lying on. I approached Oswald without fear of waking him. I knew he’d had a good dose of poison and wouldn’t be waking up any time soon.
I ran my fingers through his blazing red hair, half-expecting it to ignite. His magic surged through his veins, a seething force akin to molten lava in a volcano. This elf was undeniably a living ember.
I prayed to Alastor, feeling his presence, and plunged my dagger into the elf’s heart. At the same moment, a burning magic took hold of me. My veins seemed to catch fire, and I gritted my teeth, tears streaming down my face. As I pondered if my soul would ignite, the heat subsided, becoming more tolerable. I drew a few breaths, sensing my body, realizing how this magic would now course through me.
With two parts of Alastor’s essence, I already had a third of his power. The idea of fulfilling the great prophecy excited me to no end.
I left Oswald’s room. Lysander was waiting for me on the other side. “I’m afraid that the mage is no longer with us. See that his body is disposed of and that no one hears of this.”
The vampire nodded humbly. “Very well, Your Majesty.”
? It was well into the night when Elaine returned. I greeted her immediately, eager to see if she’d found the other half of the artifact .
“Your Majesty,” she began, bowing slightly. “I’m sorry to have arrived so late. I’ve had no choice but to stop several times along the way, and there have been obstacles, but at last, I’m here.”
“And that’s all that matters,” I replied.
“I’ve found it,” she breathed excitedly as she opened her bag. My heart pounded as I watched her get the other piece of the Rod of Origins out of her bag.
“Wonderful!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. “Let’s go restore the artifact.”
“At this hour?” asked Elaine in astonishment.
I knew she must have been tired, but resurrecting the dragons was far more critical than an elf’s life. “I had hoped to restore the dragons tonight, but if you don’t have the strength . . .” I said.
“No, it’s not a problem!” interrupted Elaine, and I smiled, satisfied that the elf had reacted exactly as I’d expected. I knew she was as eager as me to restore the draconic race.
“Follow me,” I ordered before starting to walk.
Elaine walked behind me. “But what about my friend Oswald? Shouldn’t we fetch him so he can attend this event too?” she asked eagerly.
I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around. “But my dear, he’s asleep at this hour. Besides, he’ll see the dragons when he wakes up tomorrow morning.”
I put on my most sincere smile as the elf looked at me in shock. I couldn’t risk her discovering he was dead, and she didn’t know I sent the two guards away either.
She stammered, “Yes, that makes sense. Of course, Your Majesty. ”
Satisfied, I continued on my way to the cathedral. The castle’s corridors were silent and cold, lit only by the full moon streaming through the windows. Serenity filled me.
The body of the beast stood majestically before us, commanding respect. I ran my fingers over his scales one last time as he lay dead, knowing full well that it would be a different story once he was resurrected.
I took the Rod of Origins from its pedestal and asked Elaine to give me the other piece. She did so, her hands trembling. I pushed the two pieces together, feeling the power of the object as I did so. When it was whole, a brilliant black light emanated from the artifact—a dark, forbidden magic was contained within.
I handed the object to Elaine, who looked at me in surprise.
“Now, read the formula here,” I indicated, pointing to the book.
Using the artifact would require an impressive amount of magic, and although I had the strength to do it, there were risks involved in manipulating dark magic. I’d rather the elf did it and suffer the consequences.
“I . . . thought you’d want to do it yourself,” she said hesitantly.
“It’s only fitting to have a mage perform this delicate spell,” I replied. “After all, you’re far more expert in magic than I am.”
The elf walked unsurely over to the book and began to read, “ Revertere tempus. Fac quod semel fuit meum. Vivant mortui, et futuri pereant . . . ”
As she recited the words, the rod glowed more intensely. The jewels embedded in the mage’s neck and forehead glowed as well, and the relic’s crystals filled with mana. An intense light appeared in the void before us, and a violent wind filled the room. I instructed Elaine, “Concentrate on the exact moment when the dragon died—on that fateful evening when their great race died out.”
She nodded, struggling to stand. I clutched the pedestal foot to keep my footing as a window to the past opened before us. Scorchifre was spitting fire, destroying the city as he had done years before. It was breathtaking to watch him unleash his anger and madness on Ichoryllia. It was like watching a play, reliving events with an accuracy that actors couldn’t recreate.
“Now grab his soul and bring it back to the present,” I ordered.
She pointed the relic at the creature, gritting her teeth, her embedded jewels gleaming with even more fervor. I could see the signs of fatigue; her hands were slackening, her eyes heavy, and I wondered if she’d be strong enough to get through. But we couldn’t fail.
“You’re almost there!” I encouraged.
She continued on, and an almost ghostly image of the dragon seemed to follow the rod’s path. The wind raged even louder, as if the whole universe were angry at our violation of the most sacred of rules, the order of time.
Elaine was fighting as hard as she could, and I could see she wouldn’t make it. I moved behind her and grabbed the rod with both hands. The same pain filled me, and I felt my magic drain into the artifact, but we had to make it.
I needed Alastor’s draconic essence.
I prayed deep inside with everything I had. I only hoped he heard me. I suddenly felt an immense wave of power, and I smiled, knowing that Alastor had graced me with his strength .
We directed Scorchfire’s soul above his body, fighting against the magical wind. When we did, a bolt of lightning shot out of nowhere, shattering the artifact, and the pieces clanked on the floor. The window to the past disappeared, along with the raging storm. Elaine released her hands from the remaining rod piece, breathing hard. She turned, and we looked at each other, wondering if it had worked.
The ground shook all around us, and stones fell from the ceiling as an intense roar came from Scorchfire’s throat.
The dragon was alive.