Chapter 35 Make Reckless Decisions Alone #2
Auremar’s mages arriving at our estate in the dead of night, led by a sorceress in gray robes and hood pulled low over her face.
My mother breaking the suppression spells placed on her.
The surge of power that followed was wild and uncontrolled.
My mother standing between them and my bed, magic crackling around her.
“You want her power?” she’d said, and even in memory her voice made me shiver. “Then take mine first.”
They had.
The battle that followed was brief and brutal. My mother had been strong, but she’d been one against six. I’d watched from a corner, frozen in terror, as they’d worn her down spell by spell. Watched as she’d fallen. Watched as the leader had raised her hand for the killing blow—
And I’d screamed. Not just with my voice, but with my magic. The light that erupted from me had been nothing like the pretty sparkles I’d shown the king. This was raw, primal, the fury of a child watching her mother die.
The memory of that power called to my magic now, and I felt it answer. Golden light exploded around us, so bright it should have been visible to everyone in the market. But Nyx absorbed it all, her entire body shuddering with the effort.
I’m sorry, I tried to tell her. I’m so sorry.
She sent back something that felt like stubborn determination mixed with fierce protectiveness. She’d chosen to be here and shield me from the consequences of my impulsive decision.
At my attack, one mage had been instantly vaporized. Another had clawed at his eyes, screaming about the burning light. The rest had fled, but not before their leader had pointed at me and spoken a word that made everything go dark.
When I’d woken, my mother was gone. My memories were gone. And my father had a story about illness and tragedy that everyone believed because the alternative was too terrible to consider.
The king had killed my mother. My father had let him. And I’d been locked in a tower not just to hide my growing power, but to keep me from remembering what I’d done to those mages. What I was capable of when pushed.
More memories flooded in—fragments of defiance quickly suppressed, moments of clarity stolen away, a childhood rewritten to suit the narrative of a danger-prone daughter who needed a firm hand. But underneath it all, one truth remained constant:
I had always been dangerous. The tower hadn’t been to protect me from the world, but to protect the world from me.
The potion’s effects were reaching their peak now, and I was drowning in years of stolen moments.
Nyx’s presence was the only anchor keeping me grounded as memory after memory crashed over me, each one triggering another involuntary surge of magic that she absorbed with increasingly labored breaths.
My mother’s lessons in controlling light—because she’d known, even then, that the heroic bloodline was more complex than the stories claimed.
My father’s transformation from protector to jailer as the king’s gold filled his coffers.
The night I’d first manifested destructive magic and the panic in everyone’s eyes.
But there was something else. Something darker woven through the memories. In every interaction with Auremar, in every meeting with his mages, I could sense something wrong. A hunger that went beyond political ambition. A darkness that felt familiar in the worst possible way.
Because it felt like the thing I’d seen looking out through Kaz’s eyes last night.
The realization hit me just as the potion’s effects began to fade, leaving me gasping against Nyx with her labored rumbles filling my ears. The light finally stopped pouring from my hands, and she slowly unwrapped herself from around me.
I stared at her in horror. Her scales, once gleaming obsidian with just a hint of pink, now blazed with rosy luminescence.
She looked like she’d been carved from pink tourmaline, every scale shimmering with absorbed magic.
Even her wing membranes had taken on the hue, giving her the appearance of some exotic jewel.
“Oh gods, Nyx. What did I do to you?”
She huffed. Through our bond, I felt her exhaustion, but also satisfaction. She’d done what she’d set out to do—kept me safe, kept my uncontrolled magic from alerting every power-hungry bastard in the Spire to my presence.
I wrapped my arms around her neck, burying my face in her scales.
“You brilliant dragon,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
She rumbled softly, already half-asleep from the exertion. At least the glow was starting to fade.
The memories were settling now, finding their places in my mind like books being reshelved. Not comfortable—they ached like wounds exposed to air—but bearable. I was myself again. Just… more myself than I’d been an hour ago.
I needed to tell Kaz. Not about his true nature—that revelation could wait until we weren’t surrounded by enemies in the heart of the Syndicate’s power.
But about Auremar, about what he’d been planning even then.
Because I realized that Auremar had his eye on me all along.
My mother had fought it, and my father had gone along with it, knowing what Auremar was up to.
I was starting to see the connection between the king’s obsession with bloodlines and the ancient evil my husband carried in his soul.
I still felt like a few pieces were missing, but Mnemosyne had said they would be remembered over a short time.
But first, I needed to stop sitting in an alley like a vagrant with a glowing dragon.
“Come on,” I told Nyx, hauling myself to my feet. She wobbled slightly, still drained from her magical feast. “Let’s get you back to the apartment and find you some food. I’d say we need to be discreet but everyone is going to see you looking like a giant gemstone.”
As we made our way back, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. Some crucial piece that would make all the other pieces fall into place.
The memories had shown me the what. Auremar’s cruelty, my father’s betrayal, my mother’s sacrifice. We knew the king had been desperate to collect those of heroic bloodline, and what he’d planned to do with us. He’d already accomplished part of his task.
After all, what better way to control an ancient evil than with the blood of those created to oppose it?
But had he ordered my memories erased simply because of my mother’s death and the power I’d shown? I’d had the impression the mages were there to alter my memories anyway, and my mother had intervened.
What had they wanted me to forget?