Chapter 10 Winter #2
Because to take on the weight of powering this place, it had to be a willing bond with the realm, or it wouldn’t work, wouldn’t fuse properly to me.
“And it’s coming along. Once I’m healed, I’ll be able to show my gratitude properly.”
Jeez. How did Vax keep up with this sort of thing? The way he could guide a situation and problematic elements to his liking with specific and targeting phrasing while remaining so calm and deliberate, never showing his hand—only among our foursome… it was a lot.
Ruxnoth reached out again, this time stroking my jaw, where I had to slide my hand into my hoodie pocket and clench the fuck out of it to endure the touch. His eyes burned into mine, as he rumbled, “I have no doubt, miraculous boy.”
Unlike last time, he didn’t release me right away.
Instead, he tightened his grip. “Speak the words.”
I swallowed. “What words?”
“You know well the words I am referring to. Say it. Say you’re my deathborn darling.”
I’d never wanted to harm anyone. In any way whatsoever. Just the thought of it had made me sick to my stomach. And it still did.
But with him?
With him, it was different.
And I’d never thought that would be possible, that I would imagine tearing somebody apart with my bare hands, then watching the shock and defeat all over their face as I took their miserable life.
Yet here we were.
And it was another thing I hated him for.
I snatched his wrist, my Wraith frost crackling over his skin, and making him hiss. Then I called my shadows, guiding them to wrap around his wrist, using the strength of them to remove his unwanted touch.
Then I spun to him, bringing our walk toward the palace to a sudden halt.
“Like I said,” I hissed. “Once. I’m. Healed.”
Our eyes locked.
The tension ramped up.
A dangerous silence descended.
And then the corner of his mouth turned up.
“Very well.”
“We have an agreement?”
He nodded. “And I have to say, I am enjoying this swiftly developing ruthless edge of yours considerably. It will serve us both well with what’s to come.”
I grunted, then called my frost and shadows back.
He didn’t just drop his hand, he linked both of them behind his back, a signal, it seemed, that he wouldn’t touch me again.
For the time being, at least.
With him, it kept coming back around.
Thankfully, we made the remaining journey back to the palace in silence.
Fucking overwrought thing that it was.
Rising like a monument fit for a true megalomaniac, it towered above everything else with pointed intimidation, claiming ultimate dominion, just like its creator.
It was made of loads of needle-towers seemingly grown together.
The main body was broad at the base, then climbed in tiers, each one boasting thin turrets and spearpoints.
The highest central spire looked like it was almost puncturing the sky.
The whole thing glowed with deep-blue magical threads.
I rolled my eyes to myself, then focused on clearing my mind.
To keep out all the poison.
To remain levelheaded.
To be able to do this fucking thing.
And most of all…
To. Take. Him. Down.
Impatience was raging through me.
It had been ever since I’d been removed from the Nihilumbra torture.
It was why I’d asked for the books.
To keep my mind busy, to focus on something that wasn’t… this.
That I was still physically compromised when I needed to be at full fucking power and capability.
And when I was in a hostile, dangerous place.
That hostility and danger were masked and kept from being overt in a very insidious way by Ruxnoth, and the way he’d instructed his necromancers—those loyal to him—to behave toward me.
Like everything was fine.
Like this was a place where a real life could be lived and built.
Like he and I were the same—abominations that the world wouldn’t tolerate, now having found a place where we could be free and unleash all that we were, that just one thing needed to be accomplished first.
If Ruxnoth was truly the victim he claimed to be, a misunderstood and unfairly feared and persecuted being, he could have just asked me to wrap my power around his to lend my eternal nature to the Fuel Core.
That’s right—he’d shown me the conduit that powered this place—the Fuel Core that he infused his power with, then used this Core to spread it accordingly and strategically throughout the realm.
I knew for a fact that his initial claim to me when we’d first come face-to-face about just wanting a home and needing more power to keep it going, had been an outright lie.
During our tour, I’d been taking readings, feeling the magic, the power, getting the proper scope of things.
The Fuel Core’s makeup, what it could do, what it actually needed regarding a boost, had proven that yet again.
I’d seen through his lie a while ago, but being here now, it just fucking nagged at me that I’d ever once believed it. That abomination line… likening his situation to mine… using my emotional vulnerabilities there against me… it was likely what had gotten to me back then.
“Fuck,” I muttered, taking one last bite of a seared rib, then pushing my plate aside across the floor.
It was hard for me to eat if I wasn’t in the mood for it, just for the purpose of needing to.
But I did need to.
I had to be firing on all cylinders really fucking quickly.
Hence me being in this pool with Ruxnoth’s living warmth spell infusing me, despite the long-term damage it was doing to me.
There were only three exceptions to the food thing—oatmeal, Zayn’s homemade blackcurrant truffles, and the Frosted Moon Petal Cake from Vantiqe.
But I hadn’t mentioned those here.
They were special. Sacred to me because of what they represented.
I didn’t want this nightmare down here touching that.
A heavy sigh escaped me and I picked up an epic adventure book, starting to read, as I leaned back against the side of the sunken pool with the midnight-blue spiral of magic rising from the heated liquid.
The water was imbued with what Ruxnoth was calling curative immersion. It was a version of that shit he’d used on me that made me feel alive, that ‘warmed’ my death-cold state.
I put the book down.
What I really wanted to do was to draw on memories of my loves. To sink into them, bask in some of our best and most fulfilling moments together.
But it was too risky to invoke that more than just briefly. It could make my compartmentalization impossible. And with Dad being gone and—there it was already, connecting too easily back to that. All that love and—I choked, a sharp zinging sensation tearing through me.
It had me lurching and needing to slap my hands to the edge of the sunken pool to steady myself.
What the—
What was happening?
The zinging escalated, then evolved to what felt like magical sparks erupting within me.
But not everywhere.
Somewhere very specific.
My necromantic core.
The sensation intensified, making what was happening so clear in a very jarring way.
The bloodline link and necromantic resonance was reconnecting with mine.
It was being restored.
That could only mean one thing.
I jolted, slapping my hand to my chest, as it flared briefly and I felt him.
“Dad,” I breathed.
It slipped away all too soon, all of it.
But it didn’t matter.
He… he was… he was alive.
My dad was actually alive.
I couldn’t… how the… how?
I choked, tears springing to my eyes.
It was real. An absolute certainty. I’d felt it roll through me.
He was really back.
Had he been… saved sooner, and I’d just felt it now because I’d been too weakened before? And maybe he’d even been too, depending on how he’d been brought back.
But… how had he been resurrected?
Hold on.
Those words from Ketheron and Ambrose to me that day when I’d performed Risen Reckoning for the first time slammed into me.
“Do you really think even Ryker Morgan or the entire Guardian Movement can stop your dad?” Ketheron had spoken.
I’d startled at his words and also the look in his eye. He’d even winked at Ambrose.
“Ketheron,” Ambrose had cautioned.
“What?” I’d pushed. “What did that mean? My dad doesn’t possess unlimited power.”
The two of them had exchanged another loaded look.
“What’s going on?” I’d pressed further.
“Let’s just say that it’s not always about power alone,” Ambrose had answered.
Ketheron had then added, “It’s got a lot to do with smarts and thinking ahead… contingency plans, tiny god.”
I frowned as I recalled all of that.
My dad had put contingencies in place even for his own demise, ways that wouldn’t impact the Valley of the Dead?
Or… Ambrose had.
In this particular case.
With the Spiral Thorn.
Because with his abilities, the black magic, he’d… paused the kill intent?
Something along those lines?
But to do more than that, to then bring my dad back… he would have needed to warp Ruxnoth’s magic.
That shouldn’t have been possible. It was the main obstacle I’d run up against when I’d been trying to figure out how to defeat Ruxnoth while he had that unique ability to twist, warp, transmute his magic.
But for my dad to be alive now, with all of that in play, it pointed straight to that.
Ambrose had warped Ruxnoth’s warped magic.
Oh fuck—that was it!
What Ruxnoth had done was a violation of the balance.
For so many years now, Ambrose had been so dialed into that, so connected to it.
So he’d been able to use it and actually wield it to undo the violation.
Being able to do that shouldn’t just be rooted to that particular scenario with my dad.
This could actually be the key to undoing the most dangerous thing about Ruxnoth—the reason he couldn’t just be overpowered by other True Celestials like Ariana Martel and Ketheron.
I squeezed my eyes shut as emotion got the best of me and cut into my thoughts.
And then I started sobbing.
Holding it in… wasn’t possible now.
Not currently.