I gnawed on my bottom lip, thinking.
“What is it?”
“Before I was taken, I used a massive amount of power. It… I don’t know… it made me weak.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked skyward. “I was afraid of that.”
“You were?”
He nodded, his cerulean eyes catching mine. “I had the same problem with my arcane powers when they came in. You’ll get used to it, but it takes time. The most important part is that you fought back—okay?”
“For all the good it did,” I said, dropping my eyes to the ground.
“No!” His voice startled me as it echoed off the walls. “From what Sidrick told me, you are the only reason his brother is still alive. You did great, Spark, especially against a twin unara we had no idea existed.”
My brows furrowed. “Twin unara?”
Artton nodded. “It’s when a magic takes the power of two fae to fuel it. In this case, Lothar and Njal.”
“Wait, they’re twins?”
“No. But their power signatures are twinned.”
“How do you know this?”
“I don’t for sure,” he said, stealing a look at his friend, “but fromwhat Sidrick witnessed, it took both of them to form thedeath pullmist.”
“Death pull? Is that what that’s called?” Unconsciously, I rubbed my arms for warmth. “It felt… wrong. Unnatural.”
He breathed in deeply before letting out a slow, measured breath. “Because it is. Each High Lord has their own unara in a sense—though it’s tied to the court themselves. Myron’s is healing, as you’re well aware. But Wymond’s is the opposite.”
“The opposite?” I asked, confused.
Artton nodded once. “Where Myron pulls life from the Mother to heal, Wymond siphons lifetothe Mother.”
“Like when trees hibernate for the winter?” I asked.
“Exactly like that,” he confirmed. “Only the tree doesn’t come back to life after.”
I shook away the memory of Kaelun screaming as the mist tried to do just that. “So,” I said, taking a breath, “they’ve, what? Found a way to tap into it by combining their powers?”
“Honestly”—he dragged a hand across his face—"I haven’t the faintest idea how they did it, but that’s as good a guess as any. Either way, it’s unnatural."
Stepping toward one of the walls, I caressed its cold, smooth surface with my fingertips, which drew forth the memory of the sacred cavern Caius had taken me to during the summer solstice.
“This rock,” I said, eyes wide as I looked back to Artton, “is the same kind of obsidian in Caius’ sacred cavern.”
“Yes. Though where they got it is beyond me. To our knowledge, the only modern-day stones that possess the power to absorb like this are the ones back home. Between the stone’s innate abilities, and whatever Thaddeus did to them, we’ve gotthis.” He waved a hand, indicating the whole of our power-stealing prison.
I looked over to Sidrick to get his thoughts, only he was asleep—or passed out. With how sickly he looked, I couldn’t tell. Leaning closer to Artton, I whispered, “Do you still have access to your arcane powers?”
“Barely, and I’ve been using them to mend his back—which is still in bad shape.”
“We need to get out of here,” I said.
“I’m open to suggestions.”
A moment later, footfalls echoed down what sounded like a long corridor, and the hole in my chest tugged as if calling me forward. “Endymion,” I breathed, hope blooming as I stepped forward.
