“Dammit.” Peri wanted to smack herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Have you tried to draw anything, Torion?”
“Like in the dirt?” The fear fled his face only to be replaced with confusion.
“Yes, in the dirt. I suddenly care that you might be bored, and I’m trying to give you ideas of how you can entertain yourself.” Okay, so maybe she was a little bit of a jackass to kids. She’d put it on her list of things she needed to work on in her own personal reflection therapy. Not that she did any kind of therapy. She probably should. Consideringhumansdid therapy, and they lived a measly 80-90 years, she, a 3,000-year old female, definitely had issues.
Titus clucked his tongue at her as if he wasn’t 5, or was it 6— dammit, maybe he was 7. How the hell was she supposed to keep up with their ages?
“I think you need a time out.” The boy said, as he narrowed his eyes.
Peri could see the wolf shining out of them. She forced herself not to smile at the little twerp who one day might be an alpha judging on his need to not only protect Thia, Hope, and Slate as if they were his own, but to apparently boss Peri around.
“You say that like it would be a punishment,” Peri deadpanned. She turned back to Torion. “Not in the dirt. On this.” She snapped her fingers, and a notebook appeared, then she snapped the fingers on her other hand and a pencil appeared. "That whole drawing the future thing you got going on. Do you know how to use your magic to locate them?"
Torion shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “My magic isn’t like a switch I can just turn on. Sometimes I can draw things that matter, and sometimes I draw a car, and that’s all it is—a car.”
“We’re not expecting you to pull something out of your ass that isn’t there. You’ll be fine.” Lucian raised a brow at her. She felt his pleasure at the unexpected display of encouragement from her. Peri ignored it because she liked it too much when her mate approved of her. “Just focus. No distractions.”
Tenia’s son took the pencil and notebook. Serapha snorted, gaining the boy’s attention. She motioned her large head toward her body. Torion, obviously speaking “draheim body language,” walked over and sat down, leaning his back against the large beast. He opened the notebook to the first sheet of blank paper and held his pencil over it. For at least a minute, maybe longer, he simply stared at the paper. Peri fought the need to speak, tossing out ideas of where his mom and Skender might be to see if it would spark his ability. If the boy said that wasn’t how things worked, then she needed to trust him.
Finally, his pencil began to move. The space around Peri disappeared as she watched his hand slide across the page, and the only sound she heard was the scratching of lead against paper. Torion’s face scrunched up in concentration, his brow lowering into a deepV. Every so often the pencil would pause. He would turn the notebook a bit and then begin drawing again. Peri had no idea how long he sat there, or how long she stood there like a statue, unable to take her eyes off of him.
“If you don’t breathe, you’re going to pass out. Last I checked, even high fae need oxygen.”Her mate’s voice filled her mind. Of course his attention would be on her and not the kid who could be drawing the answers to all the questions they have.
“Then you need to do better research. Now hush. I’m trying to concentrate.”
His humor and love poured through the bond, but he didn’t say anything more.
At least ten minutes after Lucian’s teasing, Torion let out a small gasp. Peri took a step toward him but froze when he looked up at her. Hope and confusion filled his eyes. Hesitantly, he held up the notebook, the picture facing her. Peri’s feet slowly carried her forward as her mind tried to decipher what she was seeing. When she reached Torion, she took the paper from him. If they weren’t in the middle of a serious situation that was a matter of life and death, she would take a second to admire how amazing the drawing was, but things were serious, and Peri needed to figure out what the hell she was looking at.
She lifted a finger and pressed it to the page, and her magic rippled across it, replacing the pencil lines with color. She sucked in a breath as she stared down at a being she had all but forgotten existed.
Peri stared down at the drawing in her hands, her sharp green eyes darting over every detail.
Towering above an open book on the page was Raja, the ruler of the Realm of the Dead. His form seemed to crawl out of the book itself, his body twisting and stretching, as if tearing free from the ancient text. His face was grotesque, contorted with unrestrained rage. His eyes blazed with an unnatural ruby-red light that seemed to burn through the page and into Peri’s very soul. His mouth was open in a silent scream, his sharp teeth bared in fury. His arms were raised, and his massive hands were clenched into tight fists. Veins bulged beneath the surface of his gray, mottled skin.
The book he emerged from was enormous, its pages ancient and weathered. The edges of the parchment curled slightly as though they had endured centuries of time. Faint, intricate patterns of runes and symbols adorned the margins of the pages, their meaning lost to time but radiating an ominous energy. Around the edges of the open book, rays of golden light—jagged and stark against the dark figure of Raja—burst forth. The light was so vivid, it seemed to spill off the page, casting imaginary shadows on the ground.
But it was what framed the light that made Peri’s stomach drop.
Faces.
Dozens of them.
Each face was etched into the edges of the book’s pages with haunting clarity, their likenesses so perfect they seemed to be staring back at her. She recognized them instantly. Some were friends, some practically family, but all of them a part of her life. Tenia, Torion’s mother, her beautiful face frozen in an expression of pain and terror. Next to her was Skender, his strong features strained as though he were fighting a losing battle. Then came Fane, his face marked by fury, his sharp features hardened with determination. Jacque’s face was there, too. Her expression was one of sorrow yet unwavering strength.
Peri’s breath hitched when her eyes landed on Sally and Costin. Costin’s face was twisted in anguish as if he were trying to reach someone just beyond the page. Sally’s expression was one of heartbreak so raw that it felt like a physical blow. Dalton and Jewel followed, their faces etched with desperation, and behind them, the faces became less distinct, melting into silhouettes. But the sheer number of them was overwhelming.
“They’re alive.” Torion’s voice broke the silence. “My drawing shows it, and I’ve never been wrong.” He sounded more desperate than sure.
“They are alive,” Peri confirmed. “If they weren’t, you wouldn’t have drawn them like this. They’d have been dead.”
Peri’s hands tightened around the edges of the page, her knuckles white as she fought the urge to tear it apart. A shiver ran down her spine as the glowing faces seemed to watch her, silently pleading for salvation.
At some point, Torion must have stood up because suddenly he was beside her, pointing at the page. “What … is this?” His voice was small, trembling, as he looked up at her.
“It’s Raja.” Peri’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her throat was tight, her breath shallow. “The Ruler of the Realm of the Dead.” Peri’s gaze dropped back to the page, her gut twisting as she studied the central image: the massive book, ancient and weathered, its pages glowing with ominous light, and Raja emerging from it. Or was he beingsucked intoit? She couldn’t tell. “And that’s theNushtonia.” She pointed to the book. “I recognize the text.” She could feel the eyes of everyone around her, but Peri's focus was on the image. Her mind raced back to a time long ago, when the djinn had locked Raja away in the Realm of the Dead. She hadn’t thought about him—or his prison—in centuries or longer. The djinn had sealed him there for a reason. His hunger for power had been unrelenting. Locking him away had been a necessity, not a choice.
But now, here he was.
