“Precautions? What are you talking about?”
“Yes, you have indeed been sheltered.”
“Just show yourself.”
A bright, blinding blue light erupted, slicing through the blackness. It formed a tear in the fabric of whatever this place was, and then he stepped through. I could make out some trees behind him steeped in natural light. The mortal plane. This was just some magically manufactured holding zone then, like a very tiny pocket dimension, maybe a Rifted Cradle.
It sealed behind him, but that deep blue light remained, muting a little, but casting him in enough illumination for me to make out that long, jet-black hair cascading about his face, his broad form, and the fact that he wasn’t wearing that coat and just had on his boots and a pair of black leather pants, his sculpted torso on full display. It wasn’t just flesh and muscle this time, like I’d seen earlier when he’d come for me. There were iridescent dark-blue fissures, cracks, and veins all over his skin—chest, arms, hands, even a little over his face.
He caught me looking and said, “I was glamored when we first met earlier. This is my true appearance. At least these days. There is a price for maintaining an entire metaphysical construct by oneself for two decades without reprieve.”
Fuck.Ambrose’s warning earlier rang in my head.“What it means to achieve threatens to break the fabric of our reality here on the mortal plane and even across realms.”
“You escaped the Severance by doing that. Now it’s too straining to continue with. But how did you hide it from everyone all this time? Even the likes of Ambrose Wisteryn—necromancers. I hit you with my power and it didn’t harm you at all. You said ‘they’were protecting you. The ones who went missing all those years ago—those twenty necromancers?”
He smiled. “Very good. Yes. They conceal it, I breathe lifeblood into it. The reason that troublesomefriendof yours registered a destabilization to the balance was because Iattempted to connect it to the mortal plane, to draw from its lifeforce. Just very slightly for now.”
“To take the edge off yourself?”
“Essentially.”
I looked down at myself, now able to see, finding white glowing bands confining me, and my boots submerged in some sort of thick slimy black substance, which seemed to be the root of the binds, where they were secured in order to keep my body immobile.
“To be clear, this little setup confining you is far from being any creation of mine, nor of those who serve me.”
“What is it?” I grimaced as I tried to call my power. Wraith first, then Necromancy. But nothing happened, not even a spark. “How—this shouldn’t be possible. What’s happening?”
“It’s a fusion of things. The anti-magic entity that isThe Void,the prison that renders magic-wielders powerless. And the nothingness of the Veil, the periphery area of the Valley of the Dead. This is that fusion made manifest in substance form. Shortly before your birth, when madness reigned and the Valley of the Dead was compromised, those who fashioned this extracted the essence of the many revenants who briefly escaped before Sylas and Ketheron repaired the Valley. The essence of the Veil. Precisely for this concoction. The idea at the time was to forge the means to incapacitate Morien Morgrave. However, they couldn’t develop it in time—due to my interference.”
“Your interference?”
“I didn’t want something to exist that could compromise necromancers, given how useful they are to me. But shortly thereafter, I could no longer safely reach into this plane often enough to stop them all. They scattered. My power was waning and had to be concentrated on stabilizing my home. And then their goal turned to subduingyou. Sylas was no longer considered their chief concern, as he can be killed, so they sawan achievable end to him if he became a threat like his father one day. You are obviously another story. Hence this fusion that has even taken your Wraith side into account.It nullifies your power and also weakens you, keeping you in unending stasis.”
I sucked in a shuddering breath.
I tried to focus on what Ambrose had told me earlier. “He will exploit your vulnerabilities, your deepest dreads about what you are until they ring as truth, until his designs for you read as inevitable.”
“Your distress is most definitely warranted,” Ruxnoth spoke again, before I could internalize the protection of Ambrose’s words properly. “This is what they mean to do to you. It is what they will do to you given the opportunity.”
“Who? Who are these people?”
“They call themselves Temperance. They’re a group of magical researchers like Arcanum Order, but researching only one thing—how to end you, the abomination and ultimate threat they believe you to be. They’re a mix of species across Realms, brought together by this one goal. And all of them were personally impacted by your grandfather’s actions—losing loved ones, some almost dying themselves, traumatized by Necromancy left unchecked. You are an absolute nightmare to them—horror and trauma manifest.”
“No. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“That won’t matter to them. Think of it like this: Morien was fanaticized by the pursuit of absolute power, while they are fanaticized by deep-rooted trauma and grief. There is no reasoning with that. I should also mention that your family is well aware of this group’s existence.”
“Stop,” I said, shaking my head vehemently.
He burst toward me with his Celestial speed and grasped my jaw, forcing my gaze to his with a firm but nonpainful grip. “You’ve been lied to. So many fear you. Many wish to hurt you,just because of what you are. Manipulation is all you have ever known, and you had no idea, did you? Because they treat you as something to mold to their liking, irrespective of what you want, of what you deserve.”
He stroked my jaw with his thumb, sending a shudder through me. I tried to pull away, but he held fast.
“You must see it, Winter. The world will never accept you. You will always be feared. There is no peace for you.” His lips lifted into a strange smile. “Not out there, at least. With me, now that’s a very different story.”
“Let go. Get your hands off me.”
“Are you certain that is what you wish for?” he crooned, just as a soothing warmth radiated through my skin where he was touching me, chasing away the awful chill. But just in that localized area. His midnight-blue power glowed at the site. “That’s right, miraculous boy, I am the antidote to this awful creation, this insulting creation. They call itNihilumbra.”
