Before Gravelock sucked this entire realm dry, to keep me prisoner.
I positioned the Mirror flat on the stone floor before me, its surface rippling as it sensed the proximity of the other relics. In the reflection, I saw faces—dozens of them, perhaps hundreds—all bearing the sharp cheekbones and dark blue eyes I saw every morning in my own reflection. My ancestors, their power still trapped within.
I would give the Triune all of me—my blood, my future…everything.
But first, I needed something in return.
I closed my eyes and used my paltry magic to reach—past this room, past these walls, past the edges of the island. My mind spun out to where the storm engulfed the approaching army, the Fae soldiers struggling through the black sand, to where Lyrae and Ryland watched for an army they stood no hope of defeating.
Then I rested my fingers on the surface of the Mirror.
Give me what I wish for, and I will give you my blood.
Use your magic to craft an illusion to convince even the most cynical mind. Grant me this boon, and you can take all of me, heart and soul and body.
Protect my friends, and you can claim me.
Something strange rippled inside the blood circle, nothing I could identify, but it felt almost like anger, and then…then the Mirror went perfectly flat for a moment, reflecting nothing but my gaunt face, framed by my hair, the dark circles under my eyes.
I had no idea if the Mirror had granted my wish, if the relic even understood what I’d asked, but now I had no choice. I had to move on with the ritual.
The Thorn came next.
I set it beside the Mirror, that delicate spindle of metal gleaming in the candlelight, deadlier than anything I’d ever been close to. Dried blood—my blood—still speckled the metal in dark, matte blotches, and I touched each drop reverently before moving the Crown into position.
A perfect triangle, three parts of a whole.
The second they were in position, a wave of power knocked me backwards, careening into something hard and unforgiving and I looked up…then blew out a shaking breath. My blood circle worked, the magic was contained, and hopefully, I wouldn’t bring this entire castle down around our heads.
Magic rushed through the air around me in wild waves, waiting for the spell, the ritual, the binding. Inside the circle, each of the three relics were incomplete on their own—just one point on a line. But when moved into this arrangement, the three magics connected, creating an enclosed space in the center, a defined area that didn't exist before.
A place for all three magicks to combine into one mighty power.
Remove any one relic, and the whole collapsed back into pieces. But add the final piece of the puzzle, and a mighty power would be birthed.
I lifted the ancient blade made from pure mithrium, the hilt carved with a rook’s head, eye set with a sparkling blue stone, and dragged the edge across my already-scarred palm, cutting deep, blood pooling slowly from the gash.
Too slowly, after yesterday.
Too slowly after creating this blood circle, but every step of this ritual required blood, and I would spend my very last drop to complete this final task, if it meant Gravelock would never sink his filthy claws into my family’s immortal legacy.
When my cupped hand was full, I tipped it sideways, the stream of blood dripping straight into the very center of the triangle…where it vanished, as if it had been transported elsewhere. I murmured the words I had been aching to speak for decades?—
“With my blood I bind these three,
I mark the path I cannot see,
And etch my name upon the wall of fate.
Judge me worthy, or leave my bones to wait.”
While I bled, and prayed I was worthy, I grieved. My father had searched for these his entire life. His obsession, his dream that had never come to fruition. He’d still beensearching when the Butcher and ten of his guards found him in the Ashenmoor.
Gravelock had tortured him for days, using his Bloodsinger magic, bled him almost to death until my father told him what he’d been searching every remote corner of the Shadowlands for—the weapon that would allow a monster like him to destroy the world.
The bastard and his soldiers carted my father’s mutilated body back here, then imprisoned both my mother and I on this island. I’d never left the place again.
I closed my eyes, letting the power of the moment wash over me.
