I wouldn’t be that.
I tried again to pull my power back, while shoving that fulfilling sensation away, trying to separate it from my consciousness—downplay it, even.
There!
I could feel the way through.
But then I jolted, my concentration breaking, losing my hold on what I needed to do, when I felt a wave of high-level power whipping through the immediate area.
What was—
My dad’s voice reached me. And he sounded pissed.
But it wasn’t directed at me.
“What are you doing here?”
“The colossal expulsion of necromantic power.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got it, Ry.”
Ry? Ryker Morgan was here?
“Your glamor isn’t going to hold if his power levels reach any higher. There are civilians who were alerted. If they see this—”
“Keep it down. Don’t scare him. Just go. It’s under control. My control.”
“Sylas—”
“He’s my son. Stay out of it.”
“Like Ariana is my daughter? No. It’s more than that with a supremely powerful child like this and you’re well aware of that fact.”
“I know what you’re getting at, and yes, of course I’ll stop him if it comes to it.”
“Can you, though?”
“What?”
“Are you certain you can stop him? This level of power… you’re sure it’s not beyond yours?”
“I. Will. Handle. It.”
“You might need to channel me. Ambrose is also on his way.”
“It’s not necessary. None of it. Nobody is touching my son! Do you fucking hear me?”
“Sylas—”
“I swear to fuck, Ryker, if you so much as flick a spark of power at him—”
“Sylas! Stop. Do not finish that sentence.”
I jolted. That last voice belonged to Ambrose.
Then I heard a faint,“Tiny god, no. Please, no.”
Ketheron had come with him.
