Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Aurelie ignored him, straining to listen to anything past her own heartbeat.
She had to focus until the world sharpened around her.
At first, it was only the ordinary sounds of the forest—leaves rustling in the breeze, the slow creak of old branches, the soft crunch of Severin’s boots against moss as he shifted behind her.
But then, a deeper melody began to unfold.
A subtle hum pulsed through the clearing, like the vibration of too-taut strings that thrummed through her bones. From the corners of her awareness came faint, lilting voices—the mischievous giggling of vespers darting unseen between the trees.
Deeper still was a pulse. A thrum, steady and rhythmic, almost too faint to detect. She wasn’t sure whether it came from beneath her feet or if it was carried on the air itself. It felt alive, as though the forest was breathing.
She hadn’t a clue what she was meant to be listening for, though she had the strangest sensation that the world was performing solely for her. It was like she could hear the breaths of the earth itself, a steady song that eased her soul.
“You hear it, don’t you?” Severin asked, though she gave no answer. She felt as though the world were suddenly made of crystal. One breath, and she risked shattering all its splendor.
“Pick one of the sounds,” he said. “Just one.”
That was easier said than done when all the sounds blended together, threatening to overwhelm her.
She had to sort through the humming. Through the heartbeats and their breathing, past the gentle brush of leaves against one another as they rustled in the breeze.
She focused on a sound that was louder than the others.
On one of the vespers who buzzed as fast as a hummingbird.
She listened to the whisper of its wings and the way they gusted against the air, fast approaching.
“Good,” Severin said, the warmth of his approval sliding over her skin and making her shiver. “Now silence it.”
She pictured the tiny vesper, almost able to see it in her mind’s eye. She held to the sound, getting a feel for it, and when she was ready, she cut it off.
In the trees several feet ahead of her, a vesper shrieked as it tumbled to the ground, its wings gone still. Aurelie’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped as she saw the creature’s soft white glow.
A Luminel.
The white vespers were once said to have been as common as the Nyxaris, though Aurelie had never seen one. She pulled from Severin’s grasp, running to the vesper that lay sprawled on the ground.
Aurelie scooped the whimpering creature into her palms, horrified to see that both its wings were battered. “Oh, you poor thing.”
“I don’t want your pity,” the creature whimpered, much to Aurelie’s surprise. “You’ll only make it worse.”
The forest was a choir of laughter, hundreds of Nyxaris giggling and speaking at once, their words layering on top of one another so that not a single voice could be made distinct.
She brought the Luminel closer to her chest before turning to glare at Severin. “Did you know this would happen?”
“How was I to know the sound you’d silence would be a vesper’s wings?”
“What are we supposed to do with her?” Aurelie shot the demon a dark look as he moved to stand beside her, bending at the hips to get a better look at the Luminel staring up at him with buggish eyes.
“You smell like iron and wine,” the vesper said, wrinkling her nose.
Severin frowned and peeled back. “She’s a vesper, not a pet. Leave her in the forest where she belongs.”
“She’s a Luminel! Have you any idea how rare they are?”
“It’s bad luck to harm them, too,” he said solemnly. “They’ll smite you.”
Great. The last thing she needed was more bad luck. “We’re taking her with us,” she announced as she set the creature on her shoulder.
“How good you are, Miss Aurelie.” The vesper held a lock of Aurelie’s hair as she nuzzled into her neck. She had such little weight that Aurelie hardly noticed her there. She had no idea how this creature knew her name, but vespers were curious beings, and she thought it better not to ask.
“What happened back there, demon?” she demanded. “Why did the vesper fall?”
“You stopped her wings from moving.”
“But how?” The world around her was quiet again. If she paid close attention, she could hear the breeze in the leaves and the buzzing of insects nearby, but the power was nothing like it’d been while he was touching her.
“Sound manipulation,” he told her. “That’s my magic.”
Sound manipulation?
She thought of Lute’s shadows and the way they loomed over her, forever threatening. She thought of the demons who’d set fire to Rhovar—a useful, combative magic.
But sound magic? For as powerful as Severin had seemed, she’d expected something a little more … exciting.
His eyes narrowed on her soured expression. “And what exactly does that face mean?”
“Well, it’s not very flashy, is it?” Aurelie was mindful of the tiny vesper on her shoulder who watched them with rapt attention, clawed fingers curling in Aurelie’s hair. “I suppose I just expected something a little more substantial.”
The vesper’s pointed ears drew back as the air grew heavy, the miasma around Severin growing larger. He crossed toward her without a word, holding her gaze with such intensity it felt like a hand around her throat.
“Substantial?” His voice was hardly louder than the breeze, though it raised goose bumps as it slid along her skin. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll show you how substantial I can be?”
There was no warning as Aurelie’s next breath hitched.
She grappled at her throat, panic surging within her as she struggled to find another.
It was as though someone had reached a hand into her lungs and squeezed tight.
Fortunately, the pressure subsided several grueling seconds later, though when she drew a breath and closed her eyes in relief, she found that she couldn’t open them.
“I can hear your every breath,” he said, his voice like a storm upon her. “Your every blink. And if I can hear it, I can control it.”
The woods were growing louder, what was once a gentle breeze now pounding against her ears. They ached, and as she fell to her knees to cover them, she felt the sudden, sharp pulse of Yuriel’s panic flaring to life within her. She tried to steady herself, but Light, did everything hurt.
“You are lucky to share my magic,” Severin told her. “No matter where you are, you cannot hide from sound. If you’re skilled enough, you can even use it to manipulate others into doing what you want. That’s how you killed the demon last night.”
“I don’t understand.” She forced herself to lift her head enough to look into his gleaming eyes. She couldn’t convince her legs to move. To stand. She could only watch as Severin reached for a satchel strapped to his thigh.
She was in no condition to fight. Should he draw a blade, there was no way she’d be able to dodge. And yet it wasn’t a blade Severin unsheathed.
It was a flute.
The instrument was slender and well-polished, its wood gleaming as he pressed it to his lips. At the first note he struck, the world slipped sideways.
The sound was like spun sugar. A single note that glided through the air, winding itself around her. It didn’t matter whether her knees had given out, or how much she ached. She stood, her body no longer hers to control.
Severin’s gaze never wavered as he played a second note. She felt her body move of its own accord, edging toward him. Meanwhile, the vesper gripped her hair tighter, seeming unaffected by Severin’s music.
No longer did he play single notes, but a beautiful melody that held her captive.
Fog danced around his form, blurring her vision as though she were watching him through a haze.
She clung to every note, and before she understood what was happening, her own hands had betrayed her, reaching for her throat.
She squeezed until the edges of her vision grew dark—and then the music stopped.
She dropped clammy hands to her sides, staring breathlessly at the demon before her.
This was magic. This was the power that people gave up their very souls for.
Light, she could see why.
“Do you understand now?” Severin asked, but Aurelie could form no answer. Her neck ached, and it was all she could do to gather her wits.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she seethed, the words hot in her throat.
He stepped toe to toe with her, a cocky tilt to his head. “If ever we were to fight seriously, I would come at you with every ounce of power at my disposal. This is but a small taste, knightling.”
It was a wonder how she’d ever believed she could protect herself here. If other demons held even half of Severin’s power, how had humans ever believed they stood a chance?
Aurelie, at least, did have one power over the demon—he wasn’t her only bonded. If this magic was what awaited her just from his side, then what could she do with the angel’s power, too? Just how much stronger might she become with both of them at her disposal?
“Teach me,” she whispered, swallowing down the lump in her throat.
Severin drew a step back, and though he didn’t show it, she could feel his satisfaction.
“That’s more like it. Now have a se—” The demon’s words cut off mid-sentence as a gilded arrow struck him in the shoulder.