Chapter 58 Pretend You’re Fine
(Everything’s Fine)
Kazimir
The Alchemist’s fingers twitched like a puppeteer testing strings as they examined Griffin’s latest contraption—a crystal matrix that hummed with unstable energy.
The Alchemist had been delighted by Griffin’s laboratory, though they kept eyeing his “experimental mistakes” shelf with professional concern.
“Fascinating,” they murmured. “The resonance frequency is entirely wrong, of course, but the underlying theory…”
“Focus,” I said, massaging the bridge of my nose.
The voice in my head—the one that wasn’t mine—had been growing louder all morning. A constant, seductive tirade that promised power beyond imagination if I’d just let go.
They’re all traitors. The Alchemist will betray you. Arabella will abandon you. Kill them all and take what’s yours.
The Shadow King continued to alternate between urging me to murder my wife or assert my control over her so we could use her. I’d decided it was easier to ignore the why and focus on the what—which was that I’d do neither, no matter how loud the voice screamed.
I tightened my mental grip, forcing the voice back into its cage.
“The ritual preparations are nearly complete,” I said, deliberately focusing on the Alchemist. “Other than the site—which we won’t have access to until we defeat Auremar—we’re as ready as we can be. Griffin has managed to stabilize the crystal array for channeling the energy.”
Griffin, who’d been nervously hovering nearby, bobbed his head. “Mostly stable. Eighty-three percent stable. Which is really quite good considering the temporal fluctuations in the—”
“Griffin.”
He flinched. “Right. Yes. Stable enough. Probably won’t explode.”
The Alchemist’s eyebrows rose. “Probably?”
“Definitely,” Griffin amended, then immediately undermined himself by adding, “Unless someone sneezes too hard near the northwestern crystal. But what are the chances of that?”
I resisted the urge to throw something at him. “Lady Blackrose is speaking with the captives now. Attempting to secure their willing participation.”
“And if she fails?” the Alchemist asked, their tone deceptively casual.
I gritted my teeth. “If she fails, we’ll find another way.”
“Another way meaning…?” The Alchemist’s eyes fixed on mine, probing.
“Meaning whatever is necessary to stop Auremar and seal the prison.” I met their gaze unflinchingly. “I won’t pretend I’m above sacrificing a few nobles if it means saving the world. Or more importantly, saving my wife.”
Griffin made a small, distressed sound. “Lady Blackrose will convince them. She’s quite persuasive.”
“It’s not her abilities I doubt,” I said, turning away to examine a row of bubbling potions. “It’s the nobility of Solandris. Self-important, shortsighted fools who’d rather die with their principles intact than live pragmatically.”
The Alchemist’s gaze lingered on me a moment too long. “You should know, Lord Blackrose, that for some types of magic—particularly purification rituals like the one we’re planning—willing blood is significantly more powerful than unwilling.”
“I’m perfectly aware of that.”
“It’s a matter of magical resonance,” they continued, as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Unwilling sacrifices create discordant energy. If you’re summoning a demon, for instance, that demon will want unwilling blood.
Fear. Pain. These are the currencies of darker realms. But for restoring corrupted ley lines?
You need harmony. Alignment. Willingness. ”
I turned back to face them. “And yet, you told me the First Hero sacrificed his victims to seal the Shadow King the first time. Why wouldn’t that be the best approach now?”
The Alchemist went very still. “Did I say that?”
“You did.” My eyes narrowed. “In fact, you specifically mentioned that Soriven’s victory was built on ‘blood and suffering.’ Your exact words.”
The Alchemist’s fingers twitched again, but this time I recognized it as nervousness, not enthusiasm. “Times change. Methods evolve. Perhaps you should consider your wife’s preferences in this matter.”
My hand slammed down on the workbench, rattling vials and sending Griffin scurrying backward with a yelp.
“I AM considering her!” The shadows in the room darkened, and a cold wind whistled through the tower.
Something on a shelf whimpered. “She may not forgive me if I make the sacrifices, but at least she’ll be alive.
At least we won’t have the fucking Shadow King to contend with. ”
But you do. I’m already here. Inside you. Part of you.
“Shut up,” I hissed.
The Alchemist took a careful step back. “Lord Blackrose?”
I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. The shadows receded. “Do you have an answer or not? Or have you been guessing about this ritual the whole time? Now is not the time to hedge.”
They studied me. “I’m as sure as anyone can be, more than you. And yes, I believe willing participants will mean we need fewer heroes in the end because they’ll be more powerful. But perhaps we should continue this discussion later. After Lady Blackrose has spoken with the nobles.”
“Perhaps.” I straightened my jacket, regaining composure. “I’ll personally escort you to new quarters. We’ve prepared more suitable accommodations than the dungeons, near the base of this tower.”
The Alchemist glanced around Griffin’s laboratory, taking in the bubbling potions, the half-assembled contraptions, and what appeared to be a miniature tornado contained in a glass jar. “I believe I’ll remain in the dungeons, if it’s all the same to you.”
“You prefer prison?”
“After seeing this tower?” They gestured to a shelf where a cloth seemed to be moving on its own. “The dungeons seem safer.”
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Only marginally. We’ve had a problem with them expelling prisoners into the swamp recently.”
“I’ll take my chances with the swamp creatures over whatever that is.” They pointed to a corner where one of Griffin’s experiments was emitting an ominous hum.
“That’s just Herbert,” Griffin said defensively. “He’s harmless unless you feed him after midnight.”
The Alchemist stared at him.
“As you wish.” I gestured toward the door. “Griffin, continue the preparations. I want everything ready to test by tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, my lord.” He was already distracted again, poking at something that sparked.
As the Alchemist and I descended the tower’s spiral staircase, they spoke quietly. “We’re running out of time. I can feel it, even here.”
“All the more reason to act quickly.”
“And the voice? The one you were telling to shut up? Is that accelerating too?”
I stopped mid-step, turning to face them. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Their expression remained neutral. “Of course, Lord Blackrose. My mistake.”
We continued down in silence, the only sound the tap of our footsteps on stone. When we reached the main corridor, I paused.
“If willing blood truly is more effective,” I said carefully, “then I hope my wife succeeds in her persuasion. But understand this—I will not risk Arabella or this world on the moral qualms of a few entitled nobles. If they won’t willingly give what’s needed, I’ll take it.”
“Even if it means becoming what you’re fighting against?”
I smiled, and there must have been something of the Shadow King in it, because the Alchemist took another step back. “I’ve never pretended to be anything other than what I am. A villain. A conqueror. A Dark Lord. The difference between Auremar and myself is that I’m honest about it.”
Yes. Embrace what you are. What WE are.
“And what about Lady Blackrose?” they asked. “Is she a villain too?”
The question caught me off guard. “Arabella is complicated.”
“Most people are.” They studied me with those unnerving eyes. “The Shadow King wasn’t always a monster, you know. Once, he was just a being with too much power and too little restraint.”
A chill ran down my spine. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing at all, Lord Blackrose.” They bowed slightly. “Merely an observation on the nature of power.”
I marched the Alchemist to the dungeons, fighting the urge to demand answers the whole way—but I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. The surges of anger had weakened my defenses once more. Just thinking about Arabella allowed—
I forced myself to breathe again. In. Out.
You’re weak. Pathetic. You could rule everything if you’d just accept me.
“I already rule everything I care about,” I muttered once I was back out under the open sky.
Liar. You don’t even rule yourself.
I clamped down on that insult and turned away, heading toward the Great Hall. I needed to find Arabella, to see if she’d succeeded with the nobles. To reassure myself that she was still safe, still mine.
The Shadow King’s laughter echoed behind the walls I determinedly built once more.
Instead of taking a lightning bridge, I ripped open a portal and stepped into it. They were as simple as breathing now.
If all went according to plan, in a few days I would finally silence the Shadow King for good.
If not… well. I’d always been good at contingency plans.