Chapter Forty - Six
Chapter
Forty-Six
MALACHI
The shadows in my office grow longer as evening approaches, the fading light casting everything in shades of amber and crimson. I stand at the window, watching the grounds below, mind turning over the pieces of this increasingly complex puzzle.
In the reflection of the glass, I see Gideon enter. He doesn't knock—he never does. Centuries of shared history have eliminated such formalities between us.
"Report," I say without turning.
"At least thirty warlocks. Elite." Gideon's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "And they're preparing containment spells. The kind designed for high-level magical entities."
The kind designed for witches. The last time those spells were used was during the purge.
I exhale slowly, turning back to the window. "They know."
"They suspect," Gideon corrects. "But suspicion is enough for the Magister and the Council."
I nod, processing this development. We've been anticipating this, but the timeline has accelerated faster than expected. "The surveillance teams?"
"Doubled again. They're not even pretending to be subtle anymore." Gideon moves closer, lowering his voice though we're alone. "We need to move soon, Malachi. Within days, not weeks."
"I know."
I've been preparing for confrontation with the council for longer than any of them realize—gathering allies, stockpiling magical artifacts, researching ancient protections.
But I had planned on more time to prepare Sage, to help her understand and control her power before throwing her into direct conflict.
Events are moving beyond my control, a sensation I find profoundly uncomfortable.
"There's more," Gideon says after a moment, something in his tone drawing my attention.
I turn fully to face him now. "Tell me."
He hesitates, unusual for him. "It's about Sage."
"Ah." I move to my desk, picking up the crystal tumbler of whiskey waiting there. "Her binding with Asher. Yes, I know."
Surprise flickers across Gideon's normally impassive features. "You know?"
"I felt it happen," I say simply, taking a measured sip of my drink. "Just as I felt her binding with Elias. The magical signature is... distinctive."
Gideon studies me carefully. "You don't seem angry."
A laugh escapes me, sharp and cold. "What makes you think I'm not?"
"Because your office is still intact," he observes dryly. "And Asher still breathes."
I set down my glass, considering how to explain something I've only recently come to understand myself.
"Do you know why I paid three million dollars for her at the Ritual?" I ask, changing the subject.
Gideon doesn't respond immediately, weighing his words. "You sensed what she was."
"Yes," I nod. "But it was more than that. The moment I saw her—truly saw her—I knew she was different. Important. Not just as a witch, but as something more." I pause, choosing my next words carefully. "She belongs to me, Gideon. She has since the moment I claimed her. That hasn't changed."
"And yet you allow her to bind herself to others," he points out.
I smile, the expression not reaching my eyes. "Who said anything about allowing?"
Gideon's brow furrows slightly. "I don't understand."
I move back to the window, watching as darkness settles over the estate grounds. "What do you know about the original binding ritual? The true one, not the corrupted version that exists now."
"Only what's written in the old texts," he admits. "A joining of power between witch and warlock. A sharing of energy rather than a draining."
"And what do those texts say about multiple bindings?"
Gideon's eyes narrow in understanding. "Nothing."
"Exactly." I turn back to him. "One witch, one warlock.
That's how it's always been described. That's what we've always believed.
" I pause, letting the implication sink in.
"And yet, Sage has now bound herself to three warlocks—first me, then Elias, now Asher.
With no apparent conflict or negative consequence. "
"You think this is significant."
"I think," I say deliberately, "that it confirms what I've suspected from the beginning. She's not just any witch, Gideon. She's something unprecedented. Something powerful beyond our understanding."
Gideon processes this, his expression thoughtful. "And you're not angry about the bindings because they're part of your plan?"
I laugh again, genuinely amused by his perception. "I never said I wasn't angry. Elias and Asher touched what's mine. They claimed a connection I intended solely for myself." I shrug, a casual gesture that belies the cold fury beneath. "But their shortsightedness serves my purpose."
"Which is?"
"To unlock her full potential," I say simply. "Each binding strengthens her, connects her more deeply to our kind of magic. Makes her more powerful." I lift my glass in a mock toast. "They're doing my work for me."
Gideon watches me intently, processing my explanation. "And when the Magister comes for her? When the council moves against us?"
"By then," I say with cold certainty, "she'll be ready."
He nods, accepting my reasoning, but something in his posture tells me there's more.
"What else?" I prompt.
His jaw tightens fractionally. "She approached me. The night before she went to Asher."
This is unexpected. I set my glass down carefully, studying him. "Did she?"
"Yes." His voice remains neutral, but I know him too well to miss the subtle tension in his shoulders.
"And you refused her," I observe.
"My loyalty to you is absolute," he says simply.
I watch him for a long moment. Gideon has been at my side for centuries, unwavering in his dedication despite the paths I've led him down, the things I've asked him to do. His loyalty is beyond question.
And yet.
"You wanted to accept," I say, not a question but a statement of fact.
He doesn't deny it. "She is... compelling."
"Yes," I agree. "She is."
A silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. Finally, I break it.
"Your loyalty is noted, Gideon. And valued." I move toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But it was unnecessary in this case."
He looks at me sharply. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I explain, "that your refusal was based on a misconception. You believed I would see your connection with Sage as betrayal. It isn't."
His expression remains carefully neutral, but I sense his confusion. "You just said she belongs to you."
"She does," I confirm. "Everything about her is mine—including her connections to all of you."
Gideon studies me, understanding slowly dawning in his eyes. "The multiple bindings. You don't just want her to have one—you want her to have all of us."
"I want her to reach her full potential," I correct. "If that requires connections to multiple warlocks, then so be it."
"Even if one of those warlocks is me?" he asks carefully.
I smile, genuine this time. "Especially if one is you." I squeeze his shoulder once before releasing it. "Your loyalty to me is unquestioned, Gideon. If she binds with you, that connection becomes another way she belongs to me."
He nods slowly, processing this revelation. "And the others? Elias and Asher?"
"Less loyal," I acknowledge with a shrug. "But no less useful. Even rebellious connections strengthen her power."
Gideon nods once, accepting the directive without further question. As he turns to leave, I call after him.
"Gideon."
He pauses at the door, looking back.
"When this is over," I tell him, "when the council has been dealt with and her position is secure—don't let misplaced loyalty keep you from claiming what you want."
Something flickers in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or gratitude. He nods once, then disappears through the door.
Alone again, I move to the far wall of my office where an ancient tapestry hangs, obscuring a hidden compartment. I pull it aside, revealing a small alcove containing a single object—a book bound in black leather, its cover unmarked except for a symbol etched in silver: seven interlocking circles.
I remove it carefully, feeling the pulse of magic beneath my fingers. This text is one of the few surviving accounts of the original Seven Mothers, written in a language so old that most modern warlocks couldn't read it even if they found it.
But I can.
I've spent centuries collecting these fragments, piecing together the true history that the council worked so hard to erase. The prophecy they feared most.
I open the book to a marked page, where an illustration shows a single witch surrounded by multiple warlocks, their energies connected in a complex pattern—not like the simple one-to-one bindings described in most texts, but something more intricate, more powerful.
Beneath it, words in an ancient tongue that translate roughly to: "When the several become one, balance will be restored."
I trace the illustration with my fingertip, a cold smile forming on my lips. Elias believes he's the scholar, the one who's preserved lost knowledge. He has no idea how much I've hidden from him, from all of them.
Sage's ability to form multiple bindings isn't unexpected—it's exactly what I've been waiting for, planning for, longer than any of them realize.
The prophecy speaks of a witch who will bind multiple warlocks to her, combining their powers into something greater than the sum of its parts. A force capable of challenging the council, of reshaping the magical world entirely.
I close the book, returning it to its hiding place. Let Elias play at romance. Let Asher indulge in pleasurable games. They're merely setting the stage for what comes next.
Because when the Magister finally makes his move, when the council brings its full force against us, they'll find more than just a witch and her protectors waiting for them.
They'll find the prophecy fulfilled.
And I will finally have my revenge.