Chapter 17 Cyrene
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CYRENE
Joy magic had a distinct flavor, bright and citrusy with a hint of sweetness that lingered on my tongue.
I’d spent the morning enchanting a series of crystals meant to bring happiness into a room for a limited time, each one glowing with golden light as I infused it with magic.
Six perfect specimens lay on my workbench, ready to be presented to Kieran as a gift for his kingdom.
But as I reached for the seventh crystal, something shifted.
The magic stuttered on my fingertips, flickering like a candle in a draft. When I pressed my power into the stone, it accepted the enchantment but without the usual warm rush of connection. The crystal glowed, but dimmer than the others, as if something was interfering with my magic.
“That’s odd.” I frowned, setting the crystal aside. “Did you see that, Quandary?”
My drake companion looked up from where he was sunning himself on the windowsill, his eyes narrowing as he studied the crystals. He made a low chirping sound. It does look odd.
“Something’s not right.”
I tried again with an eighth crystal, focusing harder this time. The magic flowed, but it felt sluggish. Like honey in winter, reluctant to pour. The crystal glowed even fainter than the previous one.
“Maybe I’m just tired.”
But I knew that wasn’t it. Since the night Kieran and I had finally given in to our attraction, my magic had been stronger than ever, flowing through me at a speed I’d never seen before.
I’d spent the past few days enchanting small items throughout the castle.
Crystals for light. Charms for warmth. Even a few protection spells woven into tapestries. All had worked perfectly.
Until now.
I reached for one of the crystals I’d enchanted yesterday. It had glowed with a steady golden light when I placed it on my shelf, but now…
It was cold to the touch. The light inside had dimmed to barely a glimmer.
“What in all the—” I checked another crystal, then another. All were losing their enchantment, the magic draining away like water through a sieve.
Quandary leapt from the windowsill, flying over to land on the workbench beside me with a soft thud. He nudged one of the failing crystals with his snout, then jerked back with a hiss. Burned!
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, but it’s hot!”
I bent closer, examining the crystal’s surface. A faint darkness swirled beneath its facets, like berry juice dropped in clear water.
“This isn’t normal.” I picked up the crystal, turning it in the light. “Something’s interfering with my magic.”
Quandary’s tail twitched, his eyes fixed on the crystal. I wonder… He peered around, then flew to the floor, where he began scratching at the stones.
“What are you doing? You’ll hurt your—”
I spotted what he was trying to show me. In the shadowed corner where the floor met the wall, I spied a faint marking. Not dirt or dust, but something etched into the stone itself. A rune, or part of one.
I knelt beside him, running my fingertips over the mark. It was cold, unnaturally so, and seemed to absorb the light around it. “This wasn’t here a few days ago.”
You’re right.
“Can you find more?” I asked, knowing his eyes were sharper than mine.
He scurried around the room, his head low, sniffing at corners and seams in the stonework.
I followed, discovering more marks hidden in shadows, beneath the windowsill, behind my workbench, along the edge of the door.
Separately, they looked like nothing more than scratches, but when I mentally connected them…
“It’s a containment sigil.” Cold sweat slithered down my spine. “A blood magic rune for trapping and diverting magical energy.”
Blood magic? Quandary asked with a shiver.
The mere thought of it made my skin crawl. While joy magic drew power from positive emotions and life energy freely given, blood magic stole it through pain and sacrifice. It was forbidden in most kingdoms, Kieran’s included.
Someone had been in my workshop, drawing blood runes to sabotage my magic. And not just any runes, but ones specifically designed to target joy magic.
I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding. “We need to tell Kieran.”
But as I turned toward the door, it swung open, and he strode inside. His tall frame filled the doorway, his dark hair mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it. The sight of him still made my breath catch.
He’d been busy the past few nights and hadn’t come to bed until long after I’d fallen asleep. I’d begun to believe what we’d shared had been a dream.
“Tell me what?” he asked, his eyes immediately tracking to the scattered crystals and my distressed expression.
“Someone’s been tampering with my magic.” I gestured to the marks Quandary had uncovered. “Blood runes. All around the room.”
Kieran’s expression hardened. He crossed to me in three long strides, taking my hands in his. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”
The concern in his voice made warmth flutter through my chest. “I’m fine. But my enchantments are failing. The magic is being drained, and I believe by these runes.”
He released me and knelt to examine one of the marks, tracing the etching with the same care I’d shown. His brow furrowed. “You’re right.”
“You can read them?”
“Not well.” He looked up at me, his blue eyes serious. “But enough to recognize their purpose. Someone’s trying to suppress your magic.”
“But why, and how did they get in here? I’m the only one who uses this tower.”
“That you know of.” He stood, scanning the room. “These runes weren’t placed randomly. They form a pattern.”
I nodded. “A containment sigil. But it’s not complete. If it were, my magic wouldn’t work at all.”
She’s right, Quandary said, and I relayed his message. Look at this. He started clawing at the floor near the wall opposite the door.
We both crossed to him. There, half-hidden beneath the edge of a bright painting of a lush garden, we found a larger mark. This one hadn’t been etched but painted onto the stone in something dark and flaky. Something that, with a sick feeling in my stomach, I recognized as dried blood.
“This is the anchor point,” Kieran said softly. “The main rune that powers the others.”
I touched it gingerly. Unlike the other marks, this one felt warm, almost hot. As soon as I made contact, the rune pulsed with a dull red light, and an electrical shock ran up my arm.
I gasped, jerking back.
“What happened?” Kieran caught me by the shoulders, steadying me.
“It recognized me. My magic.” I stared at the mark, which had returned to its dormant state. “I think it’s specifically targeted at me, not just magic in general.”
His jaw tightened. “We need to find who did this.”
“How? The castle is huge, and there are dozens of people who might want to sabotage me. Half the court thinks I’ve bewitched you.”
“We’ll start with this rune.” He touched the edge of the mark, careful not to make direct contact with the blood. “This kind of magic leaves a trace. If we can follow it…”
“We can find the source.” A spark of hope ignited inside me. “But I don’t know how to track blood magic. It’s completely different from joy magic.”
“I do.” His expression was grim. “My father made sure I understood all forms of magic, even the forbidden ones.”
The way he said it made me wonder what else his father had taught him.
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“We follow the trace.” He straightened, holding out his hand to me. “Together.”
The certainty in his voice steadied me. He wasn’t questioning whether I should come along or suggesting I stay safe in my tower. He assumed we would face this threat as partners.
I placed my hand in his. “Lead on.”
His fingers tightened around mine, and everything else faded away. There was only Kieran, looking at me like I was essential to him.
Then Quandary headbutted my leg, breaking the spell. Stop dallying and get to it before it’s too late.
“We should get moving,” I said.
“We’ll need something to track the magical signature. Do you have any salt?”
I retrieved a small jar from my supplies.
“Perfect.” He took it, then tore a strip from the edge of his sleeve. “I need something that’s been affected by the blood magic.”
I handed him one of the fading crystals. “Be careful. There’s something wrong with it now.”
He wrapped the crystal in the cloth, then sprinkled salt over it, murmuring words in a language I didn’t recognize. The salt grains began to glow with a faint blue light.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Created a simple tracking spell. The salt will respond to the same magical signature that corrupted your crystal.” He unwrapped the crystal and handed it back to me.
Our fingers brushed in the exchange. Even that brief contact sent a shiver across my skin.
Kieran poured some of the glowing salt into his palm. “Now we follow where it leads.”
He moved toward the door with me following, Quandary leaping into the air and soaring through the open doorway. The salt in Kieran’s hand shifted, the grains sliding across his palm to point down the spiral staircase.
We descended in silence, the only sounds were our footsteps on the stone. At the bottom of the tower, Kieran paused, waiting for the salt to indicate a direction. After a moment, the grains shifted again, pointing toward the southern corridor.
“The old wing,” he said quietly.
I’d rarely ventured into that part of the castle. It was seldom used, a maze of dusty corridors and abandoned chambers from an earlier era. The perfect place to hide dark magic.
We walked side by side, Quandary flying ahead like a scout. The further we went, the colder the air became.
“Someone doesn’t want us following this trail,” I whispered.
Kieran’s eyes flicked to mine. “All the more reason to continue.”
The old wing was darker than the rest of the castle, with fewer windows and ancient torches that gave off more smoke than light. Our breath formed clouds in the air, and frost began to crackle beneath our feet.
“This isn’t normal,” I said, watching ice patterns spread across the stone walls. “Even for an old wing in winter.”
“It’s a defensive measure.” Kieran’s voice was tight. “Whoever placed those runes knows we’re following them.”
The salt in his palm glowed brighter, the blue light casting eerie shadows across the walls. It led us deeper into the abandoned wing, past dusty portraits of long-dead, scowling vampires and moth-eaten tapestries showing ancient wars.
“Look.” I pointed to a faint marking on one of the corridor walls. Another blood rune, this one more complex than those in my tower. “They’re everywhere.”
Kieran’s jaw clenched. “They’ve been planning this for a while. Runes like this take preparation.”
“But what exactly are they planning? If they wanted to hurt me, why not just do it directly?”
He glanced at me, something protective flashing in his eyes. “Because they’d have to go through me first.”
The fierce certainty in his voice sent warmth curling through my chest despite the frigid air.
The salt led us to a heavy wooden door at the end of a narrow corridor that was bound with iron and carved with symbols I didn’t recognize. When we approached, the frost on the floor thickened, crackling beneath our feet.
“What’s behind there?” I asked.
“The old crypt where the earliest vampire kings were buried before the royal cemetery was established.”
“Lovely.” I suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. “I don’t suppose they’ve been resting in peace?”
“Would anything in this castle be that simple?” The corner of his mouth quirked up, though his eyes remained serious.
He reached for the door handle, but I caught his wrist. “Wait. The crystal’s reacting.”
The stone in my hand had begun to pulse with a dark, sickly light, tendrils of shadow curling around my fingers. I tried to drop it, but it seemed to stick to my skin.
“Kieran—” Panic edged into my voice.
He clasped his hand over mine, enveloping both my hand and the crystal in his firm grip. A shockwave of power pulsed between us, his vampire magic colliding with my joy magic and whatever dark energy the crystal now contained.
For a breathless moment, I felt everything, from Kieran’s concern to his determination, to the steady beat of his heart. And beneath it all, a hungry darkness that wanted to consume us both.
Then the crystal shattered, the pieces falling to the floor.
“Are you alright?” Worry roughened his voice as he turned my hand over, examining my palm for injury.
“I’m fine.” I flexed my fingers. “What was that?”
“A trap.” He looked back at the door. “They knew we’d come.”
Quandary’s scales bristled as he stared at the door. Take extra care here, Cyrene. The magic feels wrong here.
I told Kieran what Quandary said. “Should we turn back?”
“We need to stop whatever’s happening here. But…” His gaze softened as it returned to me. “You don’t have to continue. I can handle this alone.”
The offer was tempting. Every instinct told me that opening that door would bring nothing but danger. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of Kieran facing it by himself.
“I’m staying with you.” I straightened my shoulders. “My magic was targeted. I deserve to know why.”
Pride flashed in his eyes, quickly followed by concern. “Stay close to me. Whatever happens.”
I nodded, and he turned to the door. This time when he grasped the handle, nothing happened. The door swung open with an ominous creak, revealing a narrow stone staircase descending into darkness.
Kieran created a small flame in his empty palm, its blue-white light illuminating the first few steps. “I’ll go first.”
He started down, and I followed, Quandary clinging to my shoulder. The staircase spiraled, the air growing colder with each step. The walls had been carved with more runes, these older and more complex than the ones we’d found in my tower.
“This is ancient magic,” I whispered. “Much older than anything I’ve encountered before.”
“It predates modern vampire law.” Kieran’s voice came equally hushed. “From a time when blood magic was still practiced openly.”
The stairs ended in a large circular chamber.
Stone sarcophagi lined the walls, their lids carved with the likenesses of long-dead kings.
A raised altar stood in the center of the room, its surface stained dark with what could only be centuries of blood offerings.
But what drew my eye was the floor. A massive sigil had been painted on the stones, its patterns complex and twisting, centering on the altar.
It glowed with red light, pulsing like a heartbeat.
“This is it,” Kieran said, his voice tight. “The source of the magic targeting you.”