A handful of outposts had reported brief sightings of him. Reagan had passed through them, working with the patrollersto ward off the nearby cities. It seemed the horde had split, with some of the Wraiths travelling back the same way they had come.
Barracus Crow had doubled the defences at each post until they could end the creatures, seizing the opportunity to face them in smaller groups. That way, they could set free the bodies and souls of the people they had once been. There was nothing to indicate why so many had ventured toward Mountheim at the same time.
Cerridwen had hosted the last Citizens’ Audience, but it was a small gathering, as the whole estate had been warned to stay inside until the threat was dealt with.
Finnegan was fully dedicated to patrols, supporting Gwinifer alongside her squad.
I couldn’t think of any way to help, so I read about the Laws of the Mage Folk.
Reagan’s twenty-fifth birthday was only two months away, yet I didn’t sense anyone counting the days to it. It made me wonder whether the threats would truly disappear once the sentence was complete.
As I read, I learned that the mage folk followed their own distinct set of laws and protocols.
Sentencing, for them, was a means of redeeming themselves from misdeeds. Severe transgressions involved what they called the illegal crafts, acts that directly endangered the lives of others. Those were treated differently, with references to the prison Reagan had mentioned once. Pavilion.
For most transgressions, the mage folk were surprisingly inclined to grant a path toward repentance and virtue’s ascent. It sounded almost fated, as though the judgement didn’t come only from the magisters like Malory, but from another authority, one capable of imposing the most severe form of reckoning. A curse.
Curses were not ordinary sentences. They always involved some form of ordeal, a trial meant to prove a person’s worthiness of absolution.
Once a curse was deemed necessary, the judge would call upon a power known as the Chantress, described as Fate itself.
After that, the text grew even more confusing, but it was enough to leave me wondering whether Reagan’s sentence was, in fact, a curse. I wondered if the estate would become more vulnerable to attacks with each passing day. I wondered what it meant for their animal features. What it meant for him.
Perhaps Reagan had an ordeal ahead of him, and maybe he already knew what it would be.
Maybe even his staff.
???
Finnegan was nowhere to be found, but Gwinifer was in the study. She was perched on the desk, reading from three open books spread out in front of her. Her usual black scarf was draped around her neck, paired with a sweater, tight dark pants, and dark boots with buckles.
I could only see her as a guard now.
“Hey,” I greeted her from the door, glancing at the piles of books stacked on the couch and another set on the desk.
“Hey,” she replied without looking up, her eyes fixed on the page.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking for a spell to track Reagan,” she said. “I want to join him.”
“How did you track him before?” I asked, stepping toward the chair across from her.
“He wears a relic that lets Barracus track his location, but, like the idiot he is, he went without it,” she explained in a stoictone. “The spells I know aren’t working because, once again, my dumb brother shielded himself against them. So I’m looking for something else.”
I answered with a curt hum, leaning closer to try to read the books she was skimming upside down.
“Why do you think he shielded himself from you and Finn?”
She finally glanced up at me, and I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. I hadn’t seen them earlier. We hadn’t been training together these past few days.
“The reason Barracus said. He wanted us to stay and protect this city,” she said. “This is the largest one in the estate and the most populated. If there were an attack here, it would be the easiest place to cause the most damage. So he forced our hand because he knew we would come for him.”
I went quiet, reaching for one of the books to understand which ones she was looking into. After a few minutes, Gwinifer let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her arm over her head.
“Ugh. It’s useless,” she snapped at the books. “If I only had his blood, I might be able to cast something.”
A thought crossed my mind. “Would he risk himself if he really thought he couldn’t handle it? Maybe he’s being safe.”
