Quandary’s scales bristled as he stared at the door.Take extra care here, Cyrene. The magic feels wrong here.
I told Kieran what Quandary said. “Should we turn back?”
“We need to stop whatever’s happening here. But…” His gaze softened as it returned to me. “You don’t have to continue. I can handle this alone.”
The offer was tempting. Every instinct told me that opening that door would bring nothing but danger. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of Kieran facing it by himself.
“I’m staying with you.” I straightened my shoulders. “My magic was targeted. I deserve to know why.”
Pride flashed in his eyes, quickly followed by concern. “Stay close to me. Whatever happens.”
I nodded, and he turned to the door. This time when he grasped the handle, nothing happened. The door swung open with an ominous creak, revealing a narrow stone staircase descending into darkness.
Kieran created a small flame in his empty palm, its blue-white light illuminating the first few steps. “I’ll go first.”
He started down, and I followed, Quandary clinging to my shoulder. The staircase spiraled, the air growing colder with each step. The walls had been carved with more runes, these older and more complex than the ones we’d found in my tower.
“This is ancient magic,” I whispered. “Much older than anything I’ve encountered before.”
“It predates modern vampire law.” Kieran’s voice came equally hushed. “From a time when blood magic was still practiced openly.”
The stairs ended in a large circular chamber. Stone sarcophagi lined the walls, their lids carved with the likenesses of long-dead kings. A raised altar stood in the center of the room, its surface stained dark with what could only be centuries of blood offerings. But what drew my eye was the floor. A massive sigil had been painted on the stones, its patterns complex and twisting, centering on the altar. It glowed with red light, pulsing like a heartbeat.
“This is it,” Kieran said, his voice tight. “The source of the magic targeting you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CYRENE
Istepped closer to the edge of the sigil, careful not to touch it. “What is it exactly?”
“A binding circle.” Anger tightened Kieran’s voice. “It’s designed to drain specific types of magic and redirect it to fuel something else.” He circled the edge of the sigil, careful not to touch it. “Look at these symbols. They’re specifically keyed to joy magic.”
“My magic.” I swallowed hard, staring at the intricate patterns. Some of the symbols resembled those in my own spell books, but twisted and corrupt. “But why?”
“Because joy magic is powerful,” Kieran said softly. “And rare. Whoever did this wants to harvest your power.”
I hugged myself, suddenly cold despite the heat of Quandary pressed against my neck. “How do we stop it?”
Kieran knelt at the edge of the sigil, studying the markings. His dark hair fell across his forehead as he leaned forward, and I had the silly urge to brush it back.
“We need to break the connection between this main sigil and the smaller runes in your workshop.” His gaze lifted to mine. “The safest way would be to destroy the anchor point, that blood rune we found in your tower.”
“But that would mean going all the way back up to my workshop.”
“Exactly.” He stood, dusting off his hands. “Let’s go.”
I shook my head. “What if they come back while we’re gone? What if they complete whatever ritual they’re planning?” I gestured at the sigil. “I can feel it pulling at me, Kieran. Even standing here, it’s trying to drain my magic.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then we’ll disable it now.” He studied the sigil again. “There’s another way, but it’s risky.”
“Riskier than leaving a blood magic ritual active in your castle?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Point taken.” He reached for his belt and unsheathed a small dagger. “We could disrupt the sigil directly.”
My heart stuttered. “With blood? Isn’t that just feeding into the same magic we’re trying to stop?”
“Not exactly. With blood magic, intent matters.” He turned the dagger, light glinting off its blade. “This sigil was created with intent to harm and steal. If we offer blood freely, with intent to protect,” he met my eyes, “it creates a counterforce.”
