Chapter 18
CHAPTER
As Vaasa walked to the greenhouse the next morning, it was hard to keep her hands steady. Quietly, she worked out what she had seen in the stairwell the evening prior. Ozik should have died, and yet he didn’t. And the way he had spoken about her mother…
It was a direct contradiction to everything else he’d said about Vena Kozár. Those were not the words of a man who had lost someone he loved; they were the words of a murderer.
The red of his eyes haunted her while she slept, the battle between gold and crimson. There was something Ozik wasn’t telling her about his magic, and she got the feeling her mother had died trying to figure it out. That perhaps Dominik had been working toward that answer, too.
It must have been tied to the necklace her mother had tried to send her. Vaasa had torn apart the office again, but to no avail.
When she walked into the back room of the greenhouse, Ozik greeted her with his usual professorial demeanor. “Good morning,” he said, as if nothing had happened the night prior.
She wasn’t certain if he was ignoring it or if he had no memory of the altercation. Her eyes dropped to his throat, which showed no sign of injury. Not even the faintest remnant of a scar. “Good morning,” she muttered.
He gave a puzzled tilt of his head but said nothing else.
Instead, the lid on her magic opened as if blown by a strong wind, and the force shot into her with a terrifying velocity.
Vaasa steadied herself, digging her feet into the ground, and Ozik caught sight of the movement. “Good,” he said. “Ground yourself.”
Vaasa fought the urge to double over. She forced her face into a stoic neutrality instead of the pained scowl she’d taken to in the mornings they worked together.
“Calm it,” he commanded.
Vaasa tamed the intensity of the force as if she had a tide all her own, smothering its power with a wave.
“Now, summon its physical form.”
Vaasa did as she was told, the two of them moving through the beginning exercises as if this was no different from strength training or blade work.
Magic pulsed in the air, and the connection between her and Ozik grew steadier with each manipulation of the black mist around her.
Their connection was strongest when she wielded Veragi magic like this.
Mist danced up her arms and made it to her shoulders in seconds.
It curled around her neck, and this time she didn’t flinch.
“Now summon a manifestation,” he said.
The magic in her body obeyed her will; it was easier than ever to call upon the wolf, to let it out of her body and into the world around her.
Every day they trained together, she distinguished more of Ozik on the other side of their bond.
His emotions coursed across it. She had never felt anything so intense—this sadness, this overwhelming grief.
It was a feast to her starving power. Magic rang in her ears as the canine took shape, each tuft of fur defined, teeth sharp as knives.
It growled, head low, nose almost touching the stony pathway.
Tendrils of black mist licked the air around it.
She looked upon Ozik. Her rage grew in her, reaching for new heights, spreading into each of her limbs and up her throat, begging to get out. The wolf stalked, step by step, across the distance between them.
Ozik didn’t move.
The wolf sniffed at his feet. More details took shape: different shades of black and purple and blue and green, all shifting on the wolf’s fur as it circled Ozik’s legs.
A corner of the wolf’s lip raised on a low growl.
Sharp teeth with fatal incisors. She could feel it.
In her mind, she pictured it lifting on its haunches, front paws slamming in Ozik’s chest and dragging him to the ground.
The wolf widening its jaw, fangs gleaming as it clutched Ozik’s neck and sunk its teeth—
“Vaasa,” Ozik said calmly, drawing her attention back to where she stood.
The wolf was poised to strike, positioning itself with its head lowered and back raised, prepared any moment to leap at him. Razor-sharp teeth poked out as it growled louder. She wanted the wolf to attack him. She wanted to cause harm.
But she knew what leverage he held, and it didn’t matter what pain she caused him.
He wouldn’t die.
Vaasa dismissed the magic, and the wolf disintegrated into nothing but tendrils of smoke that floated on the air like a lost wind.
Ozik frowned. “You should have struck.”
He yanked Vaasa’s magic from her body, and she cried out, this time unable to stop herself from doubling over as his own manifestation took form.
She could feel the Miro’dag in the greenhouse, feel where its taloned feet sat on the stones of the pathway, before ever looking up.
But when she did, she saw those crimson eyes, and something in her cowered.
She was right back on that platform, Reid’s lifeless body in her arms, the blood of both their nations wetting the dirt.
“Stop,” she gasped.
But he didn’t. Ozik stalked forward with an angry expression, the Miro’dag just steps behind him.
“From now on, you strike,” Ozik said, voice churning with words unspoken.
Like an echo. He stopped just in front of where she stood and grabbed her chin, forcing her to lift from her cowardly, protective pose.
With her core exposed, panic sluiced down her spine.
She tried to pull away, but he shook his head in irritation.
“You gave up your opportunity, didn’t you? This is the price of hesitation.”
“Ozik—”
“Do you want to end up like your mother?” he growled, then shook his head like a dog.
His eyes held hers starkly, and then a red glow emanated from behind the gold as his face contorted in rage.
Their connection dimmed, and Vaasa felt herself breathe, felt the pull on her own magic lift, as if Ozik had lost his grip on it.
Whatever bound them was suddenly moving in both directions, an energy humming along that cord that she wondered if she could grasp.
The strings that bound them were simply an instrument, so she strummed.
And there she was again—standing in that dark tomb, staring down at a pool of red.
It churned and writhed, the water rippling, the glow of red growing brighter.
It was precisely where she’d been the first time she pushed their bond this far.
Power and rage simmered on the other side of the water.
And then from within it, something wicked and ancient pulsed, and she saw…
Eyes.
They peered up at her as if she were staring at her own reflection.
“What is that?” Vaasa whispered.
Then gold spread like a stain through the pool, extinguishing the crimson. Their connection clamped down on her, and her vision of the dark tomb fractured.
“Get out of my head!” Ozik’s voice boomed.
He slammed his hands against her shoulders and sent her rocking back. Gravel cut into her hands as she landed on her back, and her own magic rose to choke her, black mist smothering the windows and snuffing out the light in the greenhouse. “Ozik,” she called out desperately, gaping up at him.
His eyes were a brilliant gold again.
“You should be afraid, Vaasalisa,” he warned, walking toward her. “We are running out of time.”
“Running out of time for what?”
He shook his head again, clenching his eyes closed, and the cords between them ignited in flames. She kicked her legs at the gravel to back away from him, struggling not to cry out in pain. This was no natural magic. This was nothing of what she’d read in Dihrah.
There was something terribly wrong.
Vaasa eyed the door, prepared to run, but he blocked her exit. There was no way out. Fear struck her and—
Fear.
It was his fear. She felt every inch of it in the room, his rage and terror and grief grown so large they could have cracked the windows.
She didn’t want it. She didn’t want to wield magic this way, to give in to the version of herself that he wanted her to be.
Ozik leapt, and then he was on her. Vaasa slammed into the stones and rolled, his body weight more than she had anticipated.
He caught her there, pressing her arms into the small stones beneath her.
It was possible he’d drawn blood, but there was no time to tell.
Not as he dug his knee into her gut and leaned near her.
His voice dropped to a low warning. “There is a part of you that is capable of great horrors to get what you want. If you don’t let her out, I will tear her from your bones. ”
Rage curled in the air; it slid along her lips, her tongue, her throat.
It joined everything within her. Vaasa reacted upon pure instinct.
Her wolf snapped out of her again on a loud howl, and then an ear-shattering wail escaped Ozik’s mouth.
He was dragged off her, black oil splattering everywhere as the wolf feasted.
Gravel flew through the air as the wolf dragged Ozik farther and farther away, his new fear and pain only giving Vaasa more to feed off of.
She forced her feet beneath her and snapped up to a fighting stance.
Ozik screamed in pain, and for a moment, Vaasa worried someone would come for them.
But then the sound of his agony filled her with such delight, she couldn’t make herself care.
“You may not be able to die,” she snarled down at him. “But you can suffer.”
Bloodied and pinned beneath the wolf, Ozik… laughed.
Through injuries that Vaasa knew were fatal to anyone else, Ozik shook with a raucous fit.
The wolf disintegrated, and Vaasa stepped back closer to the olive tree.
Slowly, Ozik turned onto his back, his chest still convulsing with his hysterics.
His arm fell to the side and calmed, laughter fading to a chuckle.
He turned his head so his golden eyes met hers. Voice imbued with pride, he said, “There she is.”
She had done it again—had fed upon him instead of herself. Her hands shook.
Vaasa started toward the door, unable to gaze upon his torn skin or bloodied features. The magic snapped back inside her, and as she walked, she savored every moment her power stayed. It was only temporary, she knew. At any moment he would take it back.
As she reached the door, he coughed, and his voice drifted between them. “Good. You must be willing to save yourself at all costs.”
Vaasa stopped. Had she just heard him correctly?
Whatever you do, stay in Mireh and do not unite the other pieces. The price is far too great.
Her magic slipped away like the wind, but when she turned, there was nothing but sprays of blood upon the gravel.