“It’s a goddamn zombie apocalypse!” Wyll shouts, backing up.
“It’s anepidemic,” Caleb corrects, already reaching into his coat. “We need to figure out how it spreads.”
“That’s what I said, a freaking zombie outbreak!” Wyll snaps. He pulls his guns out, whispers a quick incantation, and Kvirr’s runes flare along the barrels with a deep blue glow. He fires, the bullets burying themselves in each monster’s skull with pinpoint precision. Their heads snap back from the force, dropping as stones. No screams, just dust and the stench of sulfur are left behind. Wyll blows a breath out as I glance at him.
“So… note to self, if we want results, we just have to piss you off.”
Wyll smiles and says without missing a beat, “That or bribe me with pie.” He holsters his guns and then asks, “Since when do demons infect humans, anyway, other than possession?”
“They’re evolving,” I say, locking eyes with both of them. The weight of it settling in.
“Looks like it,” Caleb mutters, heading straight for the black stain the infected left behind. Pulling a tiny vial from his pocket, he uses his blade to scoop up the viscous liquid, sealing it carefully.
“Let’s sweep the area. Make sure we didn’t miss any of these things lurking around.” I order. We pull our masks up, getting ready for whatever’s waiting in the night. Sometimes, not showing all your cards is the difference between winning and getting your ass handed to you.
“Those demons must have gotten their hands on a couple of mundanes,” Wyll mutters.
“Or worse,” Caleb adds, voice low, “they’re looking for Elgarians, and those are casualties. If that’s the case, it will explain the attack on Avilyna.” That theory lingers in the back of my throat, a bitter taste, because that will mean war’s coming, and it’s coming fast.
“They want access to Elgar.”
29
Avilyna
RESIDUAL MAGIC
The Institute'slibrary is ridiculous.
Ridiculously big, ridiculously beautiful and ridiculously boring.It’s all pointed arch and cathedral ceilings that vanish into shadow, with shelves that stretch on forever, stuffed with books. But when you’ve been stuck at a table for two hours straight listening to an Alchemy Master go on about the sacred duty of runes based on star charts.Magic or not, it doesn’t matter anymore.I’m so bored.
Across from me, Alek is already halfway gone. Eyes glazed, quill dangling between his fingers, he loves playing the perfect son, but even he can’t fake it forever. I’m doodling Skyfire eating apples in the margins of my scroll. I’m not really talented, but at this point, I’ll do anything for a distraction.
That’s when I feel the Master’s stare. He clears his throat in that special way that means I’m about to be very disappointed in you. But before he can launch into another lecture, Alek leans back and asks, way too casually.
“Have you ever played hide-and-seek in here, Master Arugo?”
Master blinks. “In the library? Certainly not! This is a place of?—”
“Perfect,” I cut in, already sliding off the bench. “You count, Alek. I’ll hide.”
He looks at me with mischief in his eyes, “Is tú an trioblóideoir is fearr liom.”
You’re my favourite troublemaker, and I smile widely while Master Arugo looks at us in horror.
“See, we know the Gods’ language,” I shout before we start sprinting through the maze of bookcases, our laughter echoing. On those rare occasions when our twin brains are in full sync, nothing can stop us. And we know our parents. Dad will turn it into a playful tale, and Mom will have no choice but to put on a show to keep up appearances. As long as we don’t overdo it, who can blame a couple of kids for playing pranks?
The shelves rise like cliffs on either side of us. Dust motes drift lazily in the pink light, and enchanted scrolls hover just out of reach. Tapestries stretch between arches as flags. And then… Kallahan, the cold kingdom.The wild one, a snow-draped mountain range under a violet sky. A valkyrie riding a winged steed, lycans howling at her heels. Her spear points forward, aimed straight at whatever battle she’s already winning.I stop to stare, just for a second. My favourite tapestry, always. One day, that’ll be me, just like Mom.
“Five! Four!” Alek’s voice echoes.
I keep running, and that’s when I see it. A massive curtain. Mom showed me this path the night of the snowstorm. We’d stayed late at the Institute; meetings had gone well past their usual time. I can still hear her voice, close to my ear as a lullaby, from when we wandered off, chasing a story.
“This door leads where only valkyrie blood may go.”
I peel back the heavy fabric. Behind it, a narrow hallway appears, ending in a wooden door carved with ancient runes.
“Ready or not, here I come!” Alek’s voice echoes faintly through the stacks.
