A Time To Kill
Chapter twenty-five
Ione
"The Yukon Territory?" I scoff. "Do people even live there?"
"It's going to be fucking freezing." Delilah pretends to shiver. "I'm not a huge fan of the cold."
Rose raises an eyebrow. "You're literally a wolf. A gray one at that!"
"And?" Delilah purses her lips. "I don't like the feeling of snow on my feet."
Rose scoffs. "Ma'am, you're built for cold. I am a jaguar."
"She has a point," Caspian wags his finger. "Built for heat."
"I don't give a damn." Delilah crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm still going to be cold. It's December! In the Yukon Territory! He lives seventy miles from the Arctic Ocean!"
To be honest, this sounds like an adventure, and as Caspian, Rose, Delilah, and I sit in the living room and discuss our perspectives of the word 'cold,' Athy, Moireth, Luciara, and Chronomir are talking in the dining room.
I can't hear what they're saying, but Athanasius is doing the bulk of the speech.
Chronomir looks uninterested, he keeps looking over at Rose who waves at him and the Primordial of Time blushes just slightly.
The apples of his cheeks turn red, and he turns away paying attention once more to his siblings.
"You'll be with me, sweet thing." Caspian throws his arm around me. "So, are you and Athanasius…you know."
"Rude to ask," Rose clucks her tongue. "I am also curious though."
"Yes," I smirk. "He called me his consort."
"Shit," Caspian removes his arm. "No luck for me then."
Delilah rolls her eyes. "Like you had a chance," She pokes my arm. "I hardly think Ione was interested in you."
Rose and Delilah laugh, but Caspian crosses his arms. "You are very handsome Caspian." I add in quickly.
"Is he?" Athanasius is suddenly right behind me, his chest touching my back. "I'd hate to kill him."
Caspian raises his hands. "I did nothing wrong."
Moireth chuckles. "Caspian is a forever flirt, brother, he means no harm."
"This is true," He nods before rubbing his hands together."What is the plan my illustrious Primordial."
Moireth smirks at him. "We are leaving in twenty minutes."
"Twenty?" I squeak. "I don't have clothes for this. How are we going to get there?"
"So many questions, rabbit." Athanasius sighs. "Trust me."
"I do, but forgive my mortal mind for being curious." I roll my eyes.
Athanasius is not the only one to conjure something from nothing. Luciara stretches her hands forth and from midair, packs and a pile of clothing falls to the floor. "This will work, except for Delilah, you'll stay in your wolf form."
"Yes, life bringer" Delilah sighs. "I hate that crunch of snow between my feet."
"Which is why I made these!" Luciara chuckles happily. She produces a pair of booties from behind her back. "Sheepskin on the inside, waterproof sealskin on the outside!"
Delilah's eyes light up as she wraps her arms around the Primordial's waist. Luciara still towers over Delilah, but the werewolf lifts the primordial easily, hugging her as they spin around. As Delilah sets Luciara on the ground, she leans down just enough for Delilah to press a kiss to her cheek.
Tugging on Athy's arm, I pull him away from the others. "We're just going to get dressed and go? Like that? I don't know a plan for anything. I'm scared, and I have no problem saying that."
He cradles my face, turning so that his back is to his siblings as he addresses me. "You are human, Ione, and it is best you know nothing until we move. Their magic is strong, he can touch your mind and see what he wishes, the others are more fortified than you are."
"Then remind me why I'm going again?" I raise my eyebrow.
Chronomir is beside me in an instant. "Because you are human, you are the only one who can touch his staff and break it.
" The primordial's voice moves like a metronome, in sync, to a beat that only he can hear.
“You must understand what the mages truly are,” his voice was low, reverent, as though speaking these things aloud might summon them.
“They were not born with power—they stole it.”
“From the Void.” Moireth adds. "The place where we were born and molded."
Chronomir nodded. “They reached into the dark between stars and tore essence from it.
What they took was not meant for mortal flesh, but they bound it to themselves, channeled it through ritual and blood, until it wove itself into their very DNA.
Now, it lives in them, pulses through them.
" He spoke as if the act disgusted him. "They wield the raw magic of the cosmos. And for all their power, they are not to be trusted. Not just because they took what was forbidden, but because they hunger for more.”
Athanasius continues. "They can summon singularities, collapse gravity into a breath and pull men into space with a gesture. He can rearrange atoms, twist inorganic matter into weapons forged from voidlight and cosmic flame. He is terrifying, and he is not alone.”
Luciara nodded. "He will have his minions, twisted flesh that he has imbued with power to protect him."
“His mind spells—his illusions, his commands—can bend the will of humans." Chronomir continued. "But not of creatures born of darkness, nature, or the void. They are immune. And yet, even they cannot touch his staff.”
“That staff,” Moireth said grimly, “is the conduit. The last relic of his theft. It anchors his power. Without it, he is not harmless—but he is not godlike.”
Chronomir hummed, leaning on his cane, his eyes dark with warning.
“Humans… humans are strange. Fragile, yes.
Lacking claws or magic or shields. But their gift is connection.
To nature, to the void, to the stars themselves.
That connection is why the mage will fear you.
" He sighed before continuing. “He will see Rose and Delilah and think them lesser. Tools of the Primordials. Beings older than his stolen power. Non-human in form, yes—but that’s strength.”
"I thought Caspian was human?" He casts me a roguish smirk.
Moireth chuckles. "Caspian… he is not fully human. Druid blood flows through his line, old and deep. He cannot cast spells—but magic recoils from him. He is shielded, unknowing to the mage, of course.”
Chronomir tapped his cane and continued. “But it is you, Ione, who holds the key. Athanasius will guard you as you move through the fortress with Caspian at your side. But… you must destroy the staff. That is the only way. Sever the final tie to the Void. Shatter the source. Only then are we free.”
I pulled my coat tighter around me, the thick fur lining brushing my chin.
The Yukon territory in December isn't just cold—Delilah says it's a living thing, breathing frost and spite into the air.
My boots crunch softly in the brittle grass of my backyard, the last sanctuary before the journey ahead.
Layers of wool and leather wrap my body, and beneath it all, I can feel the soft thrum of nervous energy in my chest.
We stood in silence for a moment, all of us gathered under the bleak gray sky.
Chronomir taps his cane once against the frozen ground. The sound cracks like thunder.
A door shimmers into being in front of us, tall and arched, carved with symbols that seemed to shift when I blink.
Moireth and Caspian step forward together.
She reaches out, her tattoos glowing faintly as she opens the door to reveal a raging snowstorm beyond—ice swirling like a million sharp blades, wind howling with ancient rage.
Behind me, I hear bones shift and flesh warp.
Delilah drops to all fours, her limbs bending unnaturally as her body stretches and reshapes itself.
Fur bursts across her skin, her snout lengthens, and within seconds, she is a towering black wolf with eyes like embers.
Luciara wiggles the boots in her hands, and I watch as the Primordial of Light and Life places them on Delilah's paws. Then, without hesitation, Delilah leans down, and Luciara climbs onto her back like she’s done it a thousand times.
The massive wolf steps forward, head low, and disappears into the snow.
Moireth takes Caspian’s small hand in hers. It's a simple, quiet motion, but there's something powerful in it—like a mother walking her child into the storm. They follow Delilah and Luciara through the doorway, swallowed by white.
Rose stands near Chronomir, her face unreadable but alert, like a shadow waiting to move.
Athanasius turns to me. Before I can speak, his arms are around me—gentle, but firm—and then he's walking, carrying me with ease through the swirling cold. Rose and Chronomir follow close behind.
The cold hits me like a wall. My breath crystallizes instantly, and the wind claws through the seams of my clothing, sharp as daggers.
It whistles around us, high and mournful, like the cries of something ancient and forgotten.
It makes my eyes water, freezing the tears as they fell.
Athanasius hands me the googles, and I slip them on, sighing in relief.
We walk. And walk. Correction, I am not walking because Athanasius has decided I am a princess and do not need to walk.
He is carrying me, and it amazes me how immune to the cold he is.
His eyes don't even squint in the swirling wind.
Time unravels in the storm—seconds stretch into eternities.
My limbs feel numb. What little skin is expose feels burned.
It feels like the cold is trying to unmake us.
Then Delilah stops. She raises her head, fur rippling with the force of the wind, and lets out a long, haunting howl that splits the storm in two.
A moment passes, then another—and the wind carries a reply. Then another. Then more.
From the whiteness emerges six wolves, tall and strong, their coats thick and flecked with ice.
They approach with a reverence I didn’t expect, lowering their heads the moment they see Luciara.
She slides off Delilah’s back, landing lightly in the snow.
The wolves nuzzle Delilah, brushing their flanks against hers.
They bow their heads to her, and I see it clearly then: Delilah is the only one cloaked in pure black.
The others wear coats in varying shades of gray, silver, black and white.
Delilah lifts her front paw—white as bone, marked like marble—and touches each of their heads in turn.
“Delilah is the prophesied one,” Athanasius says close to my head, his voice hushes with something like awe. “She is their leader. The one foretold to unite the blood of the wild.”
The snow begins to soften, the wind retreating to a whisper. Through the thinning veil, I see it—looming in the distance, shadowed but unmistakable. A fortress carved from mountain and stone, ringed by spires. Green flags whip violently at its peaks, bearing symbols I can't yet decipher.
As we neared, Rose lets out a breath—and stretches. Her bones crack, her form ripples, and then she is no longer a woman but a sleek black jaguar, muscles taut beneath obsidian fur. She stalks forward with regal intent, paws silent on the snow.
At the top of the tallest tower, a figure appears. The mage.
He's young—shockingly so. Barely older than me, with a sharpness to his face that makes him look like a statue chiseled from marble. His eyes burned with anticipation as he looks down at us, hands already beginning to glow.
He was waiting.
He was ready.
Here goes nothing.