“I would have said this structure was impossible,” she says, “but here we are enjoying the fireplace while two lightning-powered birds snuggle on the overly large perch you made for them.”
“Perch?”
“You’ll see when you go outside. Two perches, actually. One on either side of the tower. Although I fear you’ve made them large enough for dragons to land on, which they may view as an invitation.”
“That was a mistake,” Dusana says, widening her eyes at me.
I ignore her. “Creating a tower is very different than extinguishing a power that is fueled by the very magic I would use to stop it.”
But Cailey’s forehead has creased. “How do you stop a fire?”
“You pour water on it,” Dusana quickly replies.
“Sure, but how else?”
Dusana’s forehead crinkles. “You can smother it or stomp on it.”
“How else?”
Dusana gives her a stare. “You clearly have something in mind. Say it already.”
Cailey’s eyes are brighter than they’ve been in hours. “You take away the fuel source.”
My forehead creases. “How would that apply to the darkness?”
“It feeds on the magic of the dead,” she says. “The more death there is, the more magic there is, the stronger it grows, and the faster it spreads, creating more death. And so it goes on.”
“Self-sustaining,” I say.
“But what if there were a way to leach the magic from the ground?” she asks.
I give the matter serious consideration. “You mean something to pull the magic away? But then it would simply go somewhere else and fester there instead.”
Mother Solas holds up her hand. “Not if the place it went was capable of containing that magic.”
Like Cailey, she, too, is suddenly animated. “You created a tower in the blink of an eye. You did it for a purpose: a home. You gave it doors and windows and warmth and light and all the things that living beings need to thrive. But what about a place where its entire purpose is to constrain the churning magic that fuels the darkness?”
“Like a prison,” Dusana says with a delighted smirk. “But for magic.”
“A place that can’t be breached,” Cailey says. “Or even found. You can’t risk that someone would open it up.”
“With all the properties needed to counter the dark magic, you siphon from the land andextinguishit,” Mother Solas says.
“As well as any other magic that is festering within it,” Cailey adds. “After all, the darkness is the result of dark magic acting on other kinds of magic: elemental magic from the fae, light magic from dragons and humans, and original magic like Blacksmith magic and my magic, too. Whatever object you create to siphonaway the darkness, it would need to attract all of the magics that have been corrupted.”
“And be strong enough to tether them,” Mother Solas adds. “To keep them contained.”
“Forever,” Cailey finishes.
I take a breath and calm my beating heart, thinking it through. All the moving parts: a tether, a prison…
But I find myself circling back to one thing, and it brings dread to my stomach. The same dread I saw in Erik’s eyes.
“The darkness feeds on death,” I whisper. “It generates monsters and has a life of its own. Stopping it won’t be as simple as using a siphoning object and creating a prison. Not if I am to stop it from reviving and happening again. When any magic dies, it would need to be claimed and kept safe.”
Mother Solas reaches for my right hand and gives it a squeeze. “Think on it, Lady Asha. The answer will come to you.”
Across the table, Dusana positions the wreath on her own head. “More importantly, what do you think of my flowers?”
