93. TETHER
Bone from my flesh.
The pain shot up my forearm in waves as my blood spewed over my middle and last finger. I still needed to be able to grip a dagger or sword, so my fourth finger was the most logical one to sacrifice.
Maeson drew in a high-pitched gasp, stunned at the sudden mutilation that none of us had really discussed during our planning. But I had personally planned for this. I’d known from the very first mention that the “bone” would have to come from me. Better that it was one of little consequence.
Nivelle snatched up my severed finger and placed it between the bird and the stone.
“Your blood,” she said, beckoning with her hands.
I brought my dripping hand over the circle, and the moment the droplets of my blood hit the objects within it, the circle ignited with a black flame. Behind us, snarls and shrieks sounded as creatures were drawn to whatever power the objects were summoning.
“And here they come,” Roirdan called over his shoulder as he set into a stance and readied to take on the multitude of threats. Lightning crackled along his sword and at his wrists.
Nivelle lifted her eyes to me. “There is no turning back now.”
I nodded firmly. The time I had been dreading was finally here, and I had no other option than to face it.
Without thinking, I took Maeson’s hand, brought it to my lips, and pressed a kiss to her skin.
I inhaled her scent, letting it settle into the recesses of my mind, committing it to memory, just in case.
She searched my eyes, a dozen words piling on the tip of her tongue as she opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say.
“If things go wrong, I want you to get to Roirdan, and get away from here,” I instructed her.
“No . . . I won’t leave you—”
“Maeson, I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt.”
“And I can’t bear the thought of losing you!” Her voice broke.
Tears threatened to rise up, and the Aether jolted inside my chest, rebuking the sentiment.
I swallowed hard. “Whatever happens, just know that I will fight with everything I have to get back to you.” The words were as sincere as I could say them, but worry was still woven around their roots, strapped between the emotion I desperately wanted to feel, and the unrest of the Aether.
Her bottom lip quivered as she nodded. “I’ll be right here.”
Around us, clamor ensued, as Roirdan, and several Dionach’s who had joined him, kept the creatures from getting too close to us.
Nivelle was bent over the black flame, moving her hands in rhythmic motions, and I was beginning to feel .
. . strange. My hand was throbbing—the blood had stopped flowing, and the skin was already scabbing over.
But there was something else . . . Something was tugging against the fibers of my soul.
It was as if the black flame was an anchor point, and every aspect of my existence was linked to it.
I steadied myself and watched the witch pull strands of flames into the air with her fingers.
“The sacrifice is good,” she said, more to herself than to me.
She reached for the pouch she’d set aside, and withdrew a handful of seeds from it. Zaldora. For blinding the Aether.
“Light them,” she instructed Maeson as she scattered the seeds between us.
Maeson let go of my hand and snapped a flame to life, but I quickly protested.
“No . . . don’t.”
“But we need to block the Aether—”
“I don’t want to subdue it. I need to . . . reason with it.”
Both females looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but I ignored them.
The Aether wasn’t a parasite. It existed within me—alongside me. It was an entity, just like I was a living being, and something told me that treating it as such, with respect, was the only way this was going to work in my favor.
Nivelle leveled a look at me. “Once the spell is spoken, the seeds won’t have any effect on the entity if you decide otherwise.”
“I understand,” I replied.
She pushed out a breath and shook her head. “So be it. You must say the words with me, though, as your blood is bound to the objects.”
I nodded, and together, we recited the spell.
“Blood of my blood, bone from my flesh,
stone of the hearth, bird from the nest.
Untangle my bonds, these words are my thresh,
Release me, oh burden, unbind and let rest.”
“Again,” she commanded, lifting flames with the movements of her hands, as if offering them to some deity above.
I repeated the spell, alone this time, and as I said it, my body became immensely attuned to whatever the words had conjured up. The flame beckoned me with each flicker, like a force I could not turn away from.
Nivelle’s body suddenly arched, and she threw her head back, gasping.
My blood ran cold at what I saw. She was not the same as before.
Her eyes were as black as the night, with dark, vein-like striations bleeding out from them across her cheeks.
The markings on her forehead and chin were not glowing blue.
Instead, they were red, like a Dionach’s.
The witch had descended to whatever depths it required to perform dark magic, and she looked absolutely terrifying.
Beside me, Maeson had gone as pale as the moon, her eyes wide with horror.
The witch turned, slowly, and met Maeson’s wide-eyed stare. “I did warn you about dark magic,” I heard her say, her voice many in one.
The flames pulsed, whipping at the air, and an overwhelming sensation of dread washed over me as I slipped away from reality.
“Maeson . . .” I tried to speak, but my voice felt far from me.
“Aremis?” She clutched onto my arm.
There was fear in her voice, and I wanted nothing more than to comfort her and tell her it was all going to be all right, but I couldn’t move.
I blinked, but I couldn’t focus.
My skin went cold.
In a last-ditch effort, I reached for the words I’d wanted to say for so long, desperate to have her hear them. If these were my final moments, I wanted her to know that I loved her.
“Maeson . . . I—”
It was too late. Everything went dark, and all was lost to me.
My Aura, my power, the Aether, that was all I knew. The spell had brought it to the forefront.
The forcefield within me was all-encompassing. Its iridescence surrounded me. It had become the air I was breathing, the very life-force that was driving me, and I balked at the entrapment.
The voices, the sounds . . . it was war and chaos on a scale that was absolutely deafening. I heard the breaking of bones, the groan of leather, the tearing of flesh, the puncture of arrows finding their mark, and the splash of blood on armor and stone. It was as if the war was inside my head.
Only . . . I wasn’t in my head at all. I was somewhere else, in a realm between realms, a place where reality and my imagination blurred together.
The colors of my Aura danced through the darkness, traipsing past me. I followed them into the nothingness.
Where am I?
The iridescence paused, whirled, and drifted back toward me, as if it had heard my thought.
Ah, my Tether, a voice, both male and female, said from out of the strange void. I feel you slipping.
I wasn’t sure what it meant, and I was stunned even more to hear the Aether’s actual voice.
Though it had been trapped within me, we had never spoken to one another before.
It had always been a one-way conversation—me telling it what to do, and it obeying.
Until I did or felt something that it did not approve of, and then it would make itself known by causing pain or reconfiguring my mind to make me detached from the experience in every way that it could.
I’m not sure what is happening . . . I admitted.
The Aether swirled, its voice changing with it. The spell you have cast has loosened my bonds.
That was . . . a good thing, right?
I am releasing you, I said.
Release . . . The Aether weighed the word on its nonexistent tongue. You no longer wish to be my vessel?
Was it truly curious? Or was this some sort of ploy to leave me trapped by my own words? Before answering, I paused, recalling what the wraith had said about the witch who had tried to unbind herself from the Aether.
I want to give you your freedom, I said. And I want mine.
The Aether fell still.
Bound are we, though not meant to be. But is he like the others? All talk and no heart? It was conversing with itself, contemplating my offer and deciding on my worth. Even with all the pieces, it continued, the soul must be willing.
I am willing to cut the tether that binds you, releasing you from all that you are attached to, flesh and magic.
Its presence drew closer, as if to take a better look at me. You wish to be free of the whispers from afar and the knowledge of the world?
Now, it was tempting me. As if it wanted me to fail.
For a moment, I focused on its essence, noting how the iridescence was careful to keep just enough distance from me. There was a sense of hesitation, perhaps apprehension.
Was it . . . afraid?
Maybe it was. Maybe after all this time being locked away, it had forgotten what it was like to be on its own, and it was masking its fear by making me think releasing it into the world was the wrong course of action.
If it truly was content with its vessel, as I’d suspected before, then there was a bigger issue at hand.
How could a conscious entity bear to be locked away like this? Just within these mere minutes that I had been trapped within it, I knew I would never want to be confined inside something for any length of time.
I chose my words carefully as I answered. I do not care to know the secrets of the world, or the whispers of my enemies. I find no pleasure in it. I have lived with the ability, yes, but it is not mine to keep, nor do I desire to take from you.
Ah, a mortal who does not seek power for himself. And yet, he will have it. Its words set my nerves on edge. A strong mind, and a strong spirit. Why not keep everything you have and reap the glory?
It’s not about glory! There was a snap to my voice that I couldn’t help. I just want . . . The words caught in my throat as emotion threatened to bubble up again.