“Yeah, that will do it.”
“Even then, he didn’t reveal it to me outright. He stepped from his lab and allowed me to look around and discover it for myself, to read the research Ambrose had been conducting before he’d disappeared. Few can read it, but with my people having knowledge of Necromancy and high-level understandingof much else through our extreme need to protect ourselves after our history of persecution and losing all power, I am a rarity.”
Curses slipped from his lips, and he began to pace, uttering a mixture of words, a great deal of which were contradictory—one moment thanking me profusely, while in the next, reprimanding me for putting myself in danger.
He finally stilled, then swung back to me. “And you think this irregularitycould be connected to myglitching?”
“It occurred a few weeks ago when you told me thisglitchingfirst began.”
“But… if that’s the case… I don’t understand why my dad wouldn’t have felt it. He hasn’t said a thing. And if it’s linked to anything necromantic, he’d call me back home and shield me there until it was dealt with. So, it’s not even him keeping it from me like this other information you’ve relayed. He literally doesn’t know.”
“You aren’t the same, Winter. With your Wraith side, you aren’t just operating on a death-aligned frequency. You are, in a manner,death whole.”
“You’re saying I can sense things beyond even him? Beyond necromancers?”
“It’s highly likely.”
He startled me in the next moment as his magic sparked, then the prism he’d told me about materialized, a shimmering amber creation levitating in front of him.
“This is the physical manifestation of the interference that occurs when I call my necromantic power. The day I created it, I tried to examine it, but I couldn’t hold my magic steady long enough to test it. And… I felt it… whatever this interference is… wanting to… touch me.” He swallowed hard. “But you’re right. If I employ my Wraith abilities to try to stabilize the necromantic aspect, it could make it possible. Then I’ll perform that re-engineered Death Sense spell to track its source.” He eyed me,his hand already trembling as he held the prism before him. “If I can’t hold this, teleport out.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“Vax. I can’t… hurting you… it’s not an option. I won’t stand for it.”
“If you can’t control it, I will teleport to the valley between these mountains wherein Ryker Morgan’s defensive magic is at its most potent.”
He took a moment, then gave a nod. His lips quirked. “Good compromise.”
I winked. “I know.”
I called my citrine power to both palms and readied myself.
Then I watched Winter swivel his free hand, a frost mist erupting and swirling around the prism that swiftly evolved into a solid containment field that sealed the prism within.
He sighed in relief as he had his Wraith frost take the strain off his Necromancy.
When he closed his left hand and snuffed out the frost now that the container was forged, I saw him move to do the same to his amber necromantic power still flaring on his right palm—well, sputtering in and out.
But he stopped himself, gritted his teeth, then thrust his hand forward at the container instead.
His power shot through the containment field in a controlled stream, not harming the integrity of it one little bit. It whipped around the prism with impressive, clear expert manipulation.
He didn’t stop there. His magic flamed carefully, yet powerfully, the glimmering of the prism intensifying to an exponential degree.
Cracks of glowing orange and yellow light began to form all over, traveling through the prism’s surface area, faster and faster—until it finally shattered.
Black and blue magic erupted in the form of lashing tendrils that had the both of us jolting.
Winter recovered in a split-second, and with the essence of the interference now drawn out, he began the incantation from the grimoire.
It wasn’t within his eyeline now, and he’d only reviewed it once, yet he uttered it word-for-word. I’d studied it myself several times over to ensure I understood the spell—and to make sure it was safe—so I knew it well.
His voice was steady and commanding.
The tendrils lashed out, heading for him. They slammed up against the container savagely.
I frowned as I saw them morph from a mixture of magic and almost-flesh to a sharp, metallic state, slashing and scraping against the ice, cutting into it ferociously, all in a bid to get to Winter.
