Twenty-First Sun, Tenth Cycle, Twelfth Age
Zeranthe was right.
Tephryn didn’t want to meet about the Adastrum Devotis comets. Or notjustabout the comets. Mostly, she wanted to get to know me, not as a celestial mage but as a person—a novel concept.
It was…nice. I felt surprisingly comfortable in her presence, and the only time that became less so was when she asked about the rituals I perform and whether it’s true they all require three things: a pure heart, strong enough ellixen to connect with and draw from the celestial bodies, and blood. The blood is my own, of course, and just a drop for the blessing and purification rites I practice, though the idea of using blood at all makes many mages uneasy, given some of the sacrificial rituals used—and forbidden—long ago.
Fortunately, Tephryn was fascinated rather than appalled. But then she started asking whether there has been anything unusual about my ceremonies on the isle compared to the mainland, and I skillfully evaded her queries. Instead, I turned the conversation around onto her and, specifically, the obelisks, hoping I might glean a way to counteract their power before my next ritual.
Our conversation, held at her favorite lakeside teahouse, went like this:
“I’m not sure how the wardstones themselves are made—the enchantments the fabricator mages use to create them have always been a well-guarded secret—but I came up with the idea to infuse them with suppression magic,” Tephryn said, her dark skin gleaming in the sun-dappled space as she looked at me over her teacup. “All I did was capitalize on the protective nature of the wardstones, and instead of theirusual form of shielding, my infusion altered them to suppress the Hallow Stream’s uncontrollable flood of magic.” She shrugged. “Simple, really.”
Simplewasn’t the word I would use.
“That said,” she added, her pretty teal eyes shining with intelligence, “it was tricky not knowing where the Stream is. That’s why we had to build enough wardstones to cover the whole city, which was a hassle, but it was worth it since our magic is working normally now. And when the mage scholarsdofinally locate the Stream, at least we know the suppression wards will keep them safe while they study it.”
I tried to appear curious rather than desperate when I asked, “But how did you make the suppression part work? I’ve never understood alchemical infusions. All I know is that they’re dangerous.”
Her head tilted thoughtfully as she considered my question. “Your celestial magic—it works by you siphoning power from ellixen-rich astronomical events, yes?”
Siphoning. That was a good way to describe my rituals, so I nodded.
“And the power you draw down is absorbed by the shallows in attendance?”
I nodded again, saying nothing about how I also absorb some of that power, at least here on Elverdine.
“Well, think of infusion as the opposite of what you do. You siphon magic from an outside source to acquire more power, like reaping a harvest grown by someone else. Or in this case, somethingelse.”
“I’m sorry…harvest reaping?”
“Magicalreaping,” Tephryn clarified. “When you siphon ellixen, you’re essentially stealing it. Reaping it. What alchemists do with infusion is the opposite—instead of pulling magic from elsewhere, we push our own magic into things. Potions, weapons, talismans, and the like.”
“But other mages push their magic outward, too,” I argued. “Fabricator mages, elemental mages, enchanter mages, healer mages, nature mages…Elders, even the shallows who have enough ellixen to perform small tasks like conjuring and cleaning and—”
“Yes, yes.” Tephryn waved an impatient hand, nearly spilling her tea.“I know most ellixen is used like that, with it leaving us for an action or creation of some kind. But infusion is different. Alchemists transform preexisting matter into something new, something magical, and it remains that way—forever. Because of that, infusion goes against the natural law. And depending on the complexity of the task, it can require us to push the boundaries of our ellixen for it to actuallyworkand not just be temporary, or become something else entirely.That’swhy it’s dangerous. Because if we use too much of our ellixen, or if it doesn’t replenish fast enough, then we risk burning out.”
Before I could ask if she’d ever come close to the deadly threat of burnout, she went on to share more about the experimental infusion she’d used on the obelisks, and then began hypothesizing about the secret enchantments the fabricator mages used during their construction. I could barely follow what she said, though it left me feeling disheartened with the realization of how strong and permanent the four obsidian pillars are. Nothing short of a miracle could destroy them, and even then, Tephryn and the fabricators would just build new ones.
I have to be smart if I want to find a way to regain access to the full, unrestrained power of the Hallow Stream. And Idowant that. No—Ineedit. The shallows here depend on me. I will not lose their devotion. Icannotlose their devotion.
And the magic…I need more of it.
More to siphon. More to reap.
Those two words Tephryn used keep replaying in my mind.Siphoning.Reaping.There’s something in them, something whispering to me, taunting me, like an idea just out of reach.
I will figure this out.
Iwill.
18
Viri couldn’t stop trembling as Soren shared the few details he had about Jessalyn’s disappearance, starting with how he’d awoken from Reeve’s knockout punch to be questioned by an irate Darik before being ordered home. Once there, he found a note left by Jessalyn’s babysitter saying she’d gone for a sleepover with her friend Mia, something she often did when Soren had late-night patrols.
“With the news about the missing kids and the sacrifice fresh in my mind, I needed to see for myself that she was safe, even if it meant waking Mia’s family,” Soren said, pacing back and forth around the lab, running his hands through his hair until it was an uncharacteristic sandy mess. Even his black uniform was untucked and rumpled, proving just how distraught he was. “When I got there, her parents were already awake, so I knew something was wrong. They told me Mia and Jessy went to meet some schoolmates for ice cream after dinner, but they—” His throat bobbed. “They never returned.”
Viri wasn’t sure if she was breathing as her friend continued his tale. She was aware of Wynter shaking on her left side, ofReeve standing rigid on her right, of Sage and Jonas a few steps away, all of them listening intently.
