My shadow magic hisses under my skin.I can't imagine a life without magic. My anxiety is what humans must have felt when they were given runes. A taste that was eventually stolen from them by Torin.
He raises his chin. “No, I didn’t think so. When you are standing on a higher step, it’s easy to look down into the eyes of the people looking up. But have you looked at their feet and the path they walked in order to remain standing?
“The time is coming, boy. Evil will always have roots here, but if we are all even, then we stand a better chance of not being tempted by it. Runes make us even.”
“You never answered my question,old man. Who told you this story?”
He stands and walks to his bed. “I told you, I was told the story as a boy.”
I impatiently run my tongue over my fangs. “By whom?”
He touches the post of his bed, as if this matter pains him. “I’m orphaned like you. Only back then, the bed I had made this one look like it was worthy of a king.”He pats the blankets and smiles at them. “When I was a boy, my keepers traded me to a fae. She was a gentle soul. That’s when I realized what we were—vampire, fae, human—didn’t matter; it was who we were. This fae was caring, loving, and she became my mother.”
Turning lazily, he sits on the bed and looks long at his old, withered hands.
“Each night, she told me a bedtime story from the days of old. It wasn’t until later in my life that I realized they were not stories. She had the magic of hindsight. But the past didn’t matter, so they never deemed her useful and cast her aside. So she wrote many books, concealing the past’s truths with twisted plots that sold. For decades, the Vitalis was guarded, but over time, the guards grew too relaxed. People stole, used, abused, traded, and won the book of runes in battles.”
The old bedtime stories we were told about runes were true. There was once a time when everyone used them.
“But how did the world just forget about runes? You said there were hundreds of runes. Surely a symbol is marked somewhere,” I argue.
He flips his hands over and gazes into his palms. “When Torin cut off the magic, tattoos became a symbol, symbols turned into meaningless patterns, then nothing at all. Why ink your flesh if the drawing has no meaning? The crest of a kingdom became more powerful.”
He clears a congested cough from his lungs. “Who’s to say a symbol marked on these old castle walls was not once a rune? I’ll tell you this, boy, I’d bet my life runes surround us; they just don’t work anymore. We consider the pattern just a decoration.”
I scan his walls, but they are barren.
“It’s time for me to sleep, but I should warn you of one other thing my mother saw. This changed Everett’s plans; it forced him to keep certain people alive. Torin placed his magic over the Vitalis. Caged it,” the old man states.
My brows furrow. “You can’t turn magic into an object.”
“We turn people into objects all the time, boy. Mages can store their magic in objects, and now they have figured out a way to infuse those gemstones into swords, making magical weapons. Haven’t you asked yourself why King Galen is so worried? He has the numbers, but imagine a human and magearmy stocked with magic weapons that deliver a blow ten times stronger? That scares our king, and it should scare you.”
I can see it. The vision hollows out my stomach and scrapes clean my tongue. I’m unsure if food will have the same sensation again.
Death. So much death.
“We’re on the precipice of killing ourselves off. And as we kill each other, a new beast is born.”
I flex my forearms, hoping to dispel the fear that covers them. “What precisely was Torin’s magic?”
“Aww, he finally asked the correct question,” the old vampire purrs, and I roll my eyes. “It was what I wish to claim me, to free me from these weary bones.Death.”
A frown tugs at my lips. I hate the old man, but he’s kind of fun to banter with, and the idea of him dying… yeah, I don’t like it.
“Death,” I echo, the word sour on my tongue.
He nods. “Just as Everett gave his magic to Titus, Torin spoke this to his magic, ‘I order you to cage this book, here on this slab, so it can never be moved; should anyone touch you, you shall strike them dead.’”
“That doesn’t sound like a friendly welcome mat. How the fuck can Titus get the book then?”
“There is one more thing Torin said you need to know…”
“Why can’t we just end this story here?” I rasp. “Never mind; don’t reply. Continue,”
“Say please.” He crosses his arms.
“Now,” I deadpan.
