“Wow, who would’ve thought? But I do get what you’re saying, and why you’re saying it.” He winced. “And he can’t step up so much anymore for Win, right? His… death… had him realizing that, I think. Changed things for him. You told me he said some stuff along those lines when he was talking with those Temperance shitheads?”
“He said… a lot, yeah.”
All of a sudden, a wave of soothing coolness rolled through me.
A shiver of awareness.
And then a rush of very familiar power.
Coming in hot—ironically.
“Get back!” I called out to Lazriel.
He burst several feet away with his vampire speed, eyes wide, dropping into a fighting stance.
“It’s not a threat,” I told him quickly, not wanting him to react offensively. “It’ll just hurt if you jump into the fray and get hit instead.”
“Get hit with—”
A burst of Wraith frost cut into the atmosphere, a small tear in the fabric of reality, and then a sphere of frost shot through—right into my palm, just as I raised it.
“Fuck me,” Lazriel exclaimed. “Is that—”
“Winter,” I said, smiling. I studied the object, a choked sound escaping me when I saw his necromantic magic insideandRuxnoth’s. “He’s… he’s trapped a living equation.” I ran a glowing hand over it, my own frost with a little bit of my purple Dark Fae magic. A moment later I was jolting as the sphere started spinning, radiating shadows and wisps of frost.
A leather-bound book burst into being, hovering before me.
And then Winter’s voice echoed all around the room—a magical recording.
“Mom, if you’re getting this message, time ran out for me. I’m recording this as I’m sitting in a Ruminat hut where I’ve been coming to do this investigative research. And because Ruxnoth has been pulling me into dreamscapes in a bid to manipulate me. Don’t worry, he failed. I’m my mother’s son. Listen, I need you to get this to an expert spellwriter—Ketheron or Kai. I was close to cracking this, but the warped Celestial magic is proving exceedingly difficult to unweave. If they can find a way to do that, I can end this. And, yes, it needs to be me. Only the person who connects with Sanctus and feeds it holds that power. I’ve also found a way to eliminate Ruxnoth. I’m afraid it will mean delivering death, but I’m willing to see to it, as this fucker is irredeemable. Dad can’t take point on this, can’t do it in my place. If he does, he’ll die. I can’t die. It’s simple logic, and I need you with me on this, to see past me being your son. I need you to convince him. I’ve done the work. All my research about the living equation is contained in that grimoire. There’s some stuff in there that you won’t like. And, just so you know, I begged my loves to keep it between our foursome, so please don’t put it on them. I love you, Mom. Tell Pops, Father, andDad the same. Please send my love to Vax, Evira, and Z. Tell them I’ll be okay. I promise.”
The voice slipped away and I turned to Lazriel who was looking on as stunned as I was.
“He pre-planned this whole thing,” Lazriel breathed.
“Well, then,” a voice came from behind us.
We looked to see Sylas there leaning wearily against the door, as he stared at the sphere and grimoire floating before us.
Lazriel and I exchanged a look.
Oh no.
7
~Vaxan~
They said you couldn’t go home again.
I suppose that phrase applied to beings who held fond memories of their upbringing, and those involved—namely, parental figures.
In my case, there was no such nostalgia to be had.
Just a feeling of misalignment.
Perhaps a way to describe it was that nails on a chalkboard sensation—me being the chalkboard, of course.
Stepping foot back in the Basilisk Dominion, particularly the Crown Palace, was nothing more than political puppet theater to me.
