But whatever Nathaniel is, the power I’m sensing from him now is definitely not normal for a spirit.
So ‘demon’ is apt, in this case.
“I merely repay a debt for a broken oath,” Nathaniel says smoothly—intheirlanguage.
Normally I’d think it makes sense for a spirit to know it, because they get summoned to High Earth, but I’ve never seen a spirit of this level of power.
“If not for my interference, she would have been finished with her work before you arrived,” Nathaniel says. “With this, my debt is repaid.”
I can’t decide if that’s bullshit—if it’s just an excuse to step in, or if this was his plan all along to give him cover—but I don’t hesitate.
I finish the spell I started before they got here, anchoring Evram’s wand to the grove. The wood pulses with magic, a shockwave that ripples outward.
Then I break a branch off the tree.
I don’t know how the first wand was made, but in the modern era, you need a wand to make another wand. It’s why all mage training is in the form of apprenticeships: Your master has to help you make your wand.
And so he is, despite himself.
Destien is gaping at me like he can’t believe my audacity while my former mentor looks on furiously.
“Sierra, you cannot come back from this,” Evram hisses. “This is your last chance to return my wand, or I will not be able to save you.”
I ignore him, breathing deeply of the magic around me, my magic and this world’s together, and focusing.
I touch his wand to the new stick from my tree, and create the first wand of this world for generations.
It’s like zapping myself with lightning, only I’m not electrocuted—I’m the lightning rod.
I wasmadefor this.
I’m spotlighted in the center of the grove for a shining moment, and for that moment, my face lights up.
I’m back, baby.
Magic is mine again.
I want to laugh until I cry.
Instead, it’s only then that I look a grand magus of High Earth in the eye, the smile falling off my face even as the light in my eyes remains.
“You were never interested in saving me,” I tell my former mentor.
Then I snap his wand across my knee, and Evram swears as another shockwave of magic blasts outward, this one knocking all of us off our feet.
Except Nathaniel, who jumps lightly like gravity doesn’t apply to him and settles right back down in his insouciant stance.
God, I like his style. Whoever he is.
Destien and I both roll immediately to a crouch in casting position, though his face darkens as he reflexively grips the end of a wand that no longer works.
Evram, expression as stormy as I’ve ever seen it, slowly picks himself up. “You’ll run out of magic. And then you’ll face the consequences for your actions.”
I raise my wand—mywand—and tell him, “I no longer need saving.”
And with the wand I made of my magic and this world’s, I once again banish both of them back to High Earth.
Leaving me alone with a demon.
