"It doesn't need to be much," I added quickly, the words tumbling out in my haste. "Just enough to pour over the lock."
He let out a heavy sigh before turning toward the door.
"Wait here."
As soon as Malek stepped out, leaving me alone with the iron structure, I steeled myself to face the task at hand. The magic tugged at me, a low, insistent pull, but my gaze remained locked on the interlaced bars. I could feel the Fae power vibrating just beneath the surface, a restless hum that seemed to thrum in time with my own heartbeat as I tried to decipher the secrets hidden within its depths.
Breaking a spell demanded absolute focus and surgical precision. Few truly understood that most enchantments were constructed much like a mathematical calculation. Each rune carried a specific purpose and value that, when woven with others, formed an intricate equation. And to break it without the magic backfiring, the calculation had to be exact.
Fortunately, I excelled at Fae runes; it had been one of my favorite subjects in my youth.
I began tracing the pattern of the spell in the empty air, my finger absorbing the rhythmic ebb and flow of its energy. It was a complex piece of sorcery, designed not only to bolt the structure shut but also to smother the power of whoever was trapped within, keeping it from ever manifesting.
The Autumn Court wasn’t joking with their spells.
The enchantment was structured in three distinct layers: the first, a glamour of concealment that made it very hard to detect; the second, the containment magic itself, which acted as a siphon for the prisoner’s strength; and the third, a barrier of retaliation. If anyone attempted to break the seal by force, the magic would lash out.
Pain began to bloom behind my temples, every second of concentration weighing like an anvil against my skull. An Talamh guided me, snaking through the tangled webs of energy,but the spell was voracious, demanding more than I was capable of giving. A metallic tang coated the back of my tongue—the taste of magical strain. My instincts screamed at me to pull away, but I drew a jagged breath, ignored the tremor in my hands, and pressed on, plunging deeper into the ritual.
I traced the final rune, and the enchantment at last laid itself bare before my eyes. The key to unraveling it wasn't brute force; it was purity and grounding. Fae magic was, above all else, a force of nature. That was why the obsidian would act as the perfect conduit, siphoning away the surge of excess energy, while rosemary and vervain, potent cleansing herbs, worked to neutralize the seal.
Malek stepped back into the cabin and set the items I’d requested on the floor without a word. My vision flickered for a second, sweat stinging my eyes and blurring my sight. I clung to the threads of the enchantment with fierce determination; now that the components were within reach, I couldn't afford to let the connection snap.
"Is it enough?" Malek’s voice sliced through my concentration.
"Yes," I answered. "Give me the obsidian."
He didn't waste a heartbeat. My fingers closed around the smooth, cold stone, and the moment I touched it, An Talamh roared in recognition, desperate to release the surging excess of energy into that dark, glassy abyss.
With the stone grounding the spell, I turned to begin the cleansing. I took the sprigs of vervain and rosemary and crushed them in the mortar with the water. The aroma of earth and fresh herbs bloomed, clashing against the metallic tang bleeding from the cage. It was the scent of life itself, striving to mend a wound wrought of sorcery and iron.
Power flowed through my fingertips, seeping into the herbal infusion until the mixture pulsed with a soft, ethereal glow—a perfect union of the earth’s strength and my own. Malek didn't miss a single movement. His suspicion hung over us like a heavy shroud. Even in silence, the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. I knew exactly what raced through his mind. How could an orc possibly know the intricacies of Fae magic?
With the infusion ready, I submerged the obsidian into the pale green liquid. The shock of the stone striking the surface sent visible ripples racing outward. I began to chant the runic song, and An Talamh stirred, answering my call. My voice dropped to a low, guttural murmur that resonated through the cabin’s beams, filling every crack and crevice.
The runes etched into the bars reacted instantly; their glow flared with fierce intensity as they fought to resist my assault.
It was an ancient, stubborn force that refused to yield, but my own resolve proved stronger. The obsidian began to vibrate violently against my palms, a high-pitched hum racing up my arms and setting my teeth on edge. It became a vacuum, greedily devouring the runic energy. Simultaneously, a bright light burst from the iron structure, a shockwave that tried to hurl me backward. I gritted my teeth and planted my feet, refusing to give an inch.
"Get back," Malek commanded. His gravelly voice cut through the rising hum, taut as a drawn bowstring.
I ignored him. Muscles strained in protest, and sweat stung my eyes, but I remained locked on the shimmering threads unraveling before me. The structure vibrated at a piercing frequency, reaching its breaking point; the light grew so blinding that the shadows in the cabin seemed to writhe in agony.
"Trust me," I whispered.
I funneled every scrap of An Talamh’s power into the obsidian and, with a swift, precise motion, pressed the stone into the very heart of the spell, directly over the lock. The touch was light, but its impact on the containment magic was devastating. The entire runic framework buckled. A surge of raw energy erupted outward, a gale of stifled power that swept through my body without drawing blood.
The stone in my hand shattered into a spray of jagged shards. For a single heartbeat, the iron structure blazed with blinding intensity, illuminating our faces—then everything went dark.
The lock gave way with a sharp, hollow crack.
Malek stepped closer, his eyes locked on the iron structure.
"It worked," he said, unable to mask the edge of his surprise.
I nodded, bone-weary. The unraveling had drained every last drop of my strength; my hands shook so violently the obsidian shards nearly slipped through my fingers. With a Herculean effort, I gathered the fragments of the stone and pressed them back into Malek’s palm before turning toward what we had just unleashed.
My heart nearly stopped as my mind struggled to process the sight before me.
