Chapter 18 Cyrene
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CYRENE
Istepped closer to the edge of the sigil, careful not to touch it. “What is it exactly?”
“A binding circle.” Anger tightened Kieran’s voice. “It’s designed to drain specific types of magic and redirect it to fuel something else.” He circled the edge of the sigil, careful not to touch it. “Look at these symbols. They’re specifically keyed to joy magic.”
“My magic.” I swallowed hard, staring at the intricate patterns. Some of the symbols resembled those in my own spell books, but twisted and corrupt. “But why?”
“Because joy magic is powerful,” Kieran said softly. “And rare. Whoever did this wants to harvest your power.”
I hugged myself, suddenly cold despite the heat of Quandary pressed against my neck. “How do we stop it?”
Kieran knelt at the edge of the sigil, studying the markings. His dark hair fell across his forehead as he leaned forward, and I had the silly urge to brush it back.
“We need to break the connection between this main sigil and the smaller runes in your workshop.” His gaze lifted to mine. “The safest way would be to destroy the anchor point, that blood rune we found in your tower.”
“But that would mean going all the way back up to my workshop.”
“Exactly.” He stood, dusting off his hands. “Let’s go.”
I shook my head. “What if they come back while we’re gone? What if they complete whatever ritual they’re planning?” I gestured at the sigil. “I can feel it pulling at me, Kieran. Even standing here, it’s trying to drain my magic.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then we’ll disable it now.” He studied the sigil again. “There’s another way, but it’s risky.”
“Riskier than leaving a blood magic ritual active in your castle?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Point taken.” He reached for his belt and unsheathed a small dagger. “We could disrupt the sigil directly.”
My heart stuttered. “With blood? Isn’t that just feeding into the same magic we’re trying to stop?”
“Not exactly. With blood magic, intent matters.” He turned the dagger, light glinting off its blade. “This sigil was created with intent to harm and steal. If we offer blood freely, with intent to protect,” he met my eyes, “it creates a counterforce.”
“But that would mean—”
“I would be the one to do it,” he said firmly. “Not you.”
I bristled. “Why not me? It’s my magic being targeted.”
“Cyrene.” The way he said my name, soft but insistent, made my skin tingle. “The backlash could be dangerous. I heal faster.”
I knew he was right, but the thought of him bleeding for me made my stomach knot. “There has to be another way.”
Quandary chirped in my ear. What about joy magic? If blood magic can be used to counter blood magic…
“Wait.” I grabbed Kieran’s wrist before he could move toward the sigil. “Quandary has a point. What if I use joy magic to counteract it?”
Kieran frowned. “How would that work?”
“I don’t know exactly, but…” I let my gaze wander over the intricate pattern. “This sigil is designed to drain joy magic, right? What if I overload it?”
“That could be even more dangerous than blood.”
“Or it could work perfectly.” I met his gaze. “My magic against theirs.”
He studied me for a long moment before nodding. “But not alone. We should do this together.”
“What do you mean?”
He sheathed his dagger and held out his hand to me. “Your joy magic, my blood protection. Combined.”
My breath caught. Other than when we fed magic into the onyx stone, I’d never combined my magic with anyone else’s before. The intimacy of sharing my power, my very essence, made my heart race.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
He squeezed my hand. “I trust you, Cyrene.”
Three simple words. Trust was rare in Kieran’s world. The fact that he was offering it to me now, in this moment of danger, meant everything.
I nodded. “Tell me what to do.”
His fingers closed around mine. “We need to break the sigil at its focal point, which is the altar. I’ll create a shield around us with blood magic while you channel your joy magic directly into the center of the pattern.”
“And that will break it?”
“In theory.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles, sending sparks up my arm. “Either way, we’ll need to move fast once we start. The backlash could be intense.”
I tightened my grip on his hand. “I’m ready.”
Together, we stepped onto the edge of the sigil. Immediately, I felt it pulling at me, a cold, hungry sensation that tried to leech the warmth from my core. Quandary hissed, his claws digging into my shoulder.
Kieran drew his dagger with his free hand. “Stay close to me.”
We moved toward the center of the room, the sigil’s pull growing stronger with each step. By the time we reached the altar, my knees were weak, and it felt like my skin was being slowly peeled away.
Quandary fed bits of his own magic to me, the vital role of a companion. It strengthened me and renewed me enough so that I could keep going.
“Now.” Kieran released my hand and drew the dagger across his palm. Blood welled from the cut, dark against his skin.
He pressed his bleeding hand to the altar and began to speak in the strange language again. The blood on his palm glowed, spreading outward in a crimson dome that surrounded us both.
“Cyrene,” he gritted out. “Your turn.”
I closed my eyes, reaching deep inside for the wellspring of my joy magic. But the sigil’s pull made it hard to focus on anything positive. All I could feel was the cold, the draining sensation, and the fear of failure.
“I can’t,” I gasped. “It’s blocking me.”
“Yes, you can.” Kieran’s voice cut through my panic. “Focus on something that brings you joy. Something powerful.”
I tried to think of home, of sunny days in the flower fields, of Quandary’s antics, but those memories felt distant, muted by the sigil’s power.
Then Kieran’s free hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with my own.
“Think of us,” he said softly. “That night. Remember how it felt.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let myself remember the warmth of Kieran’s touch, the way he’d looked at me like I was important, the feel of his lips on mine. The joy that had blazed through me, bright and all-consuming.
Power surged in my veins, golden and warm. I channeled it down through my free hand, pressing my palm to the altar beside Kieran’s. Joy magic poured from me in waves, colliding with the sigil’s hungry pull.
The sigil flared with blinding light, red and gold clashing where they met. The stone beneath our feet began to tremble.
“Don’t stop.” Kieran’s voice echoed in the room, tight with exertion. His shield flickered around us as the sigil fought back, sending pulses of dark energy against his barrier.
I pushed harder, drawing on every scrap of joy I could muster. Memories flashed through my mind. My mother’s laugh. The first time I successfully cast a spell. The day I bonded with Quandary. Those wonderful days with Kieran six years ago. His smile now when he thought no one was looking.
The sigil’s lines began to fracture, hairline cracks spreading through the intricate pattern.
“It’s working,” I cried out.
But as the words left my mouth, the sigil’s strength grew. A wave of energy slammed into Kieran’s shield, and he grunted with pain. His fingers tightened around mine almost to the point of bruising.
“Kieran!”
“Keep going,” he growled. Blood trickled from his nose, but his eyes remained fixed on the sigil. “We’ve almost got it.”
I could see the toll it was taking on him. His shield was weakening, the edges flickering as the sigil’s power battered against it. If it fell completely, we’d be at the mercy of the backlash.
Shifting closer, I pressed my side against his. “Take my strength.”
I changed the flow of my magic, directing some of it not into the sigil but into Kieran himself. Gold light spiraled around us.
His eyes widened, then darkened with something more intense. “Cyrene, what are you—”
“Trust me,” I echoed his earlier words.
For a moment, I felt his resistance, though not against me. He fought accepting help and showing weakness. But it crumbled, and he opened himself to my magic.
The sensation was unlike anything I’d experienced before. My joy magic flowed into him, mixing with his vampire power in a swirl of gold and midnight blue. His shield strengthened, blazing with new light.
Together, we pushed back against the sigil. The cracks in its pattern widened, spreading like a spiderweb across the stone floor.
“Now,” Kieran said, his voice resonating with our combined power. “Hit the center with everything you have.”
I gathered all the joy magic I could muster—every happy memory, every moment of laughter, the feel of Kieran’s hand in mine—and slammed it into the heart of the sigil.
The stone floor split with a deafening crack. The sigil’s light flared one last time and went dark as the pattern shattered.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then a shockwave of energy exploded outward from the broken sigil. Kieran’s shield absorbed most of it, but the force still sent us both flying backward.
I crashed into Kieran’s chest as he twisted in midair to take the brunt of our landing. We hit the floor hard, rolling to a stop near the base of the stairs.
The entire crypt was shaking now, dust and small stones falling from the ceiling.
“We need to get out of here,” Kieran shouted over the rumbling. He scrambled to his feet, pulling me up with him.
Quandary, who had wisely flown clear when the backlash started, screeched from near the staircase. Come on.
We ran for the stairs as a large chunk of ceiling crashed down behind us. The staircase itself trembled, the steps cracking under our feet as we raced upward. Kieran kept a firm grip on my hand, practically hauling me up when I stumbled on a broken tread.
We burst through the door at the top as a cloud of dust and debris exploded from behind. Kieran slammed the door shut and pulled me away from it, his body shielding mine as the rumbling slowly subsided.