“Zhaketh, sen Val-Ash. Tuul infuk ziir. Kaan.”
Then I sat with my intentions, my legs turning numb. I hadn’t practiced any magic in so long, though, that I welcomed the discomfort just for the chance to return to my powers.
When the clock struck three, I rose stiffly and headed towards the stove. I turned on the flame and then took the Blade of Severance, heating it until it began to glow.
My knees shook, and I broke out in a cold sweat in anticipation of the pain.
But I was no stranger to pain. I could do this.
I held the flat side of the blade an inch above the bite mark, picturing the end of our bond once and for all. The heat was already searing, but I steeled my nerves.
“Zhaketh, sen Val-Ash. Tuul infuk ziir. Kaan!”
The blade touched my skin and I bit down my scream, the smell of burning flesh filling my nostrils.
“Wait, Sage, don’t!”
I gasped, nearly dropping the blade as I turned around, the voice strange and yet alarmingly familiar. It wasn’t Victor, but it was someone I couldn’t help but feel like I had known.
And yet, there was no one else in the room.
Oh no, did the spell not work?
I sighed, cursing to myself. That was three hours of intense meditation, and I really didn’t want to do it again.
As I began to clean up, I caught a large silhouette from the hallway in the corner of my eye and looked up with a startle, only to find a man with pale skin and long, braided black hair.
“Oh, Vesper,” I said with a relieved sigh. I hadn’t seen him shift yet, but I knew it was him on scent alone.
“It is done,” he said, his voice deep and soothing.
“Really?” I asked, wiping the chalk off the floor. “How can you tell?”
He sniffed the air. “Doesn’t smell like him anymore.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “You could smell him?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “The stench of death. It clung to you.”
He took a step towards me and sniffed the air again. “You smell alive now.”
My eyes began to tear up as he smiled, patting me on the head. “You’ll be okay, little witch.”
I smiled back, the pain on my neck pulsing yet lessening by the second. “Thank you.”
He started to walk back to the bedroom, and then paused, turning his head slightly to address me again.
“And don’t worry. Your familiar is still waiting for you.”
* * *
We arrived at Selene’s the next day right after lunch, hours before the bar would open.
The werewolf was waiting for us on her front porch, a roll of vaporleaf hanging from her lips.
She was in her fifties, solid and broad-shouldered, with the kind of aura that settled a Magik the moment they were in her presence. Her graying hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck.
“Good to see you again, Briar,” she said, a knowing smirk to her lips. Then she moved, getting up from the rocking chair andsetting a mug on a side table, and put her hand on the doorknob. Her eyes shifted to the horizon, checking for any sign of danger before deciding the coast was clear and pulling it open for me.
