"It knows we're close," Malus continued. "It can sense the seal, the magic it was carved from. Part of the same whole, separated by time and my brother's fear."
A sound drifted through the corrupted air—laughter that wasn't quite human, wasn't quite anything. The pixies were back, but changed. She caught glimpses of them in the wrongness—faces that had too many eyes, wings that bent in impossible directions, mouths that opened wider than physics should allow.
"My pets have adapted well," Malus noted with satisfaction. "The corruption doesn't destroy everything. Some things it... improves."
"You're insane," Arion said flatly.
"Am I? I'm not the one who split himself in two rather than face his own nature." Malus's grip on Briar tightened as the ground beneath them shifted from solid to something softer. "I'm not the one who created a weakness that could be exploited."
They were deep in the corruption now. Reality itself seemed negotiable here. A tree to their left grew leaves, shed them, rotted, and regrew in the span of heartbeats. Water flowed upward in a stream of what appeared to be blood if blood could be that color.
And through it all, that rhythmic pulsing grew stronger. The seal's heartbeat, calling to the warmth in her chest with increasing urgency.
"Almost there," Malus said with anticipation. "Can you see it?"
Through the unnatural twilight, Briar could make out a clearing ahead. The trees, or what had been trees, formed a rough circle around an open space. Light emanated from within, but it was wrong somehow, shifting between colors that made her eyes water.
"The seal," Karse said, his voice laced with bitterness.
"The beginning of the end," Malus corrected with satisfaction. "Or perhaps the end of the beginning. Either way, everything changes now."
Briar stumbled as he pulled her forward, and with each step, the warmth in her chest burned hotter, fighting against his hold, reaching for something she couldn't see yet but could feel—ancient magic, old power, and beneath it all, the promise of destruction.
As they entered the clearing, Briar's knees nearly buckled at the sight before them.
The seal was nothing like she'd imagined. A massive circle of stone was set into the earth, carved with intricate patterns that seemed to move when she wasn't looking directly at them. Concentric rings within rings, each one inscribed with symbols that shifted constantly, as if her human mind couldn't quite process what they represented.
Around the perimeter stood ancient monoliths that should have been proud sentinels but now leaned at wrong angles, their surfaces cracked and weeping something dark. The glyphs that should have glowed with protective magic flickered weakly, like dying fireflies. Some had gone completely dark, their symbols eroded beyond recognition.
The air above the seal shimmered with sickly green light, and through it, Briar could seethings. Shadows that moved independently of any source. Shapes that pressed against the barrier from below, testing, probing, searching for weakness.
"Magnificent," Malus breathed, genuine awe in his voice. "You can feel them, can't you? The Unseelie. Pressing against their prison, patient as stone, inevitable as time."
The corrupted guards spread out around the clearing's edge, taking positions. The twisted pixies chittered excitedly from the malformed trees, their too-many eyes reflecting the seal's poisoned light.
Malus finally released Briar, shoving her forward so she stumbled toward the seal's edge. The moment she got close, the warmth in her chest erupted in agony, pulling toward the ancient magic with such force she gasped.
"Yes," Malus said with satisfaction. "It recognizes the power my father used to make his little prison." He circled around her, studying her reaction.
"Don't," Eliam's voice cut through the clearing like a blade. "You don't know what you're playing with."
"Such skepticism, brother," Malus pulled a leather journal from his coat, its pages yellowed with age. "Our father's notes. His observations about the seal's construction. The power required to build it." He flipped through pages covered in cramped writing. "The power that could be reclaimed if one knew how."
"How? Those were destroyed," Eliam said, but his tone was laced with uncertainty.
"You thought they were destroyed. But I've always been better at keeping secrets than you, little brother." Malus set the journal on one of the tilted standing stones. "Now then, shall we begin?"
From another pocket, he produced items that made Briar's blood run cold. Bones that looked too human to be animal, a mixture of herbs that Briar recalled seeing in the gardens at Eliam’s palace, and the blade he used the night he’d tried to drink her blood before the entire Forest Court.
"The traditional approach would be to simply break the seal," Malus explained as he began arranging the items in specific patterns. "But that would release everything at once. Chaotic and so very wasteful." He glanced at Briar. "No, what I need is a controlled breach. A careful extraction of power."
"Through her," Arion said, understanding dawning in his voice.
"Through her," Malus confirmed. "She's the perfect conduit, the magic will recognize her, flow through her, and with the right persuasion..." He smiled. "It will flow into me."
"That could kill her," Thaine protested.
"Possibly." Malus didn't sound particularly concerned. "But she’s not just a human anymore, is she? She’s become something greater, she’s contained fae magic for her entire life."
