Zeranthe
I’m not sure what happened. How it happened. How it was evenpossible. But instead of siphoning Orion, I siphoned something else.
Someoneelse.
One moment, I was standing at the altar, trying frantically to recall everything I knew aboutellixen abyssus, and the next, the mages were swarming the White Tomb. They drove me and my shallows outside, then started slapping nullicuffs on anyone who displayed the slightest hint of ellixen, silencing what little power they had. Seeing that, witnessing my devoted followers being repressed with barely any effort, that’s when I lost it.
I’m not sure if it was my devastation about Orion.
If it was the Hallow Stream’s influence over me.
If it was simplyme.
But when one of the mages who had mocked and derided me for months came forward to bind me, something inside me changed. Shifted. And suddenly, I washungry—not for food, but forpower.
Hispower.
I couldfeelthe ellixen running through him. And I wanted it.Neededit.
So I took it.
It was instinctive, what I did. For years, I’ve siphoned from celestial bodies. It’s become second nature to me, reaching for them and channeling their power, then releasing it outward so my shallows can absorb it.
This time, that’s not what I did.
Because when the mage tried to bind me, I grabbed his wrists, skin to skin—and Ifed. There’s no other word for it. I siphoned the ellixen right out of him, reaped every last drop. My veins turned black, something that’s never happened during my rituals, but I’ve never stolen power from a living being before. I didn’t know Icouldsteal from a living being. It’s not possible on the mainland—the wards around the Hallow Streams there prevent it—but here on Elverdine…
I couldn’t stop—didn’ttryto stop. His ellixen…I wasstarvedfor it. It was better than anything I’ve ever siphoned, like the finest, purest delicacy.
I needed more.
So when he fell at my feet, drained of magic—drained oflife—I couldn’t resist the hunger driving me to siphon again. Toreapagain.
In that moment, I became something new, something powerful, something unstoppable—areaper. And when I began yelling instructions to my shallows, telling them what to do,howto do it, I was no longer their Mage Priest, but their Reaper Priest.
The first ever Reaper Priest.
No—the first ReaperLord.
A powerful title, for a powerful leader.
And lead I did. My shallows followed me, as they always have, drawing magic into themselves.Reapingmagic.
Once the oppressed, now the oppressors.
The mages didn’t know what was happening, not even when they began falling to the overwhelming number of shallows, their power stolen, their lives extinguished.
But the dragons—the bonded dragons—they knew.
Zerantheknew.
She came for me, screaming into my mind as she flew down from the mountain. It took mere minutes, but when she landed among the moonlit tombs, it was already too late.
I was too far gone in my lust for more magic.
My shallows—myreapers—were too far gone.
And Zeranthe…the strength of her ellixen…the sheeramountof power inside her, emanating like the light from a thousand suns—
