Just as I went to fire my power, he jerked violently.
All his magic snuffed out against his will, and he screamed as he slapped his hands to his head. “No! Get out! Get the fuck out!”
He convulsed.
His fists clenched.
Then he slammed them into the ground, forcing me to leap backward with a mixture of Basilisk agility and speed, just as it sent out an amber shockwave several feet all around him.
The tendrils shrieked at a pitch that was near-deafening.
And then they exploded into black and blue sludge, and blood that was the darkest shade of red I’d ever seen.
I was skidding to my knees beside him in the next moment.
He lurched forward and vomited all over the snow.
Vomited that same black and blue substance—sans the blood.
Hades.
I’d read about something very similar to that before.
The Mark of Draco.
The Fallen.
The killer of so many.
The beast who had reigned over the supernatural world four decades ago.
The twisted Immortal who had long since been defeated by Mia Snow, the daughter of Cornelius Martel.
Then… how? How was this—
Winter lifted his head as I stroked his back, trying to offer some semblance of comfort, if that was even possible currently.
He looked out at me, a haunted expression sending a chill down my spine, as he uttered, “Transmortalis.”
“What?”
“That’s what it called me.”
Latin forbeyond death.
Before I could respond, he choked, “It won’t stop.”
“Winter—”
He jerked away and rose to his feet unsteadily.
I rose too, eyeing him with a great deal of worry. “Talk to me. What else did you hear? Did you track the source?”
“You… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… but you… you need to stay away from me.”
“Never. I told you I won’t leave you. Not when you’re battling with your magic, and not because of whatever this is.”
“You don’t understand.”
