Page 150

Kelaros’s certainty falters. “What are you talking about?”

The court whispers answers through my transformed blood, ancient knowledge flowing into my consciousness. I am what the Opal Court intended, what it recognized in me from the beginning.

An anchor.

The court’s true anchor.

I brace one hand and push myself upright. Blood drips from my side in a steady patter, but the wound closes with each passing heartbeat, sealing itself with a latticework of crystal scabs.

The pain recedes further to a dull ache, no more debilitating than a bruise from a hard hunt. Kelaros tracks the transformation with naked fascination.

“You stole fragments of power,” I tell him. “I accepted what was freely given.”

Crystal pillars bend, the cage unforming. Roots that wind across the floor shift beneath my feet, their touch gentle where moments before they threatened to ensnare.

Kelaros’s triumph falters at the change. “The court is mine. I claimed it.”

“You consumed its guardian,” I correct him. “Such violation grants you no mastery over it.”

The court’s power flows through me in a rush of cold fire, burning away the last vestiges of resistance. Every root, every pillar, every broken piece of the dying realm extends its awareness toward me, seeking connection.

“The stag chose me,” I whisper, “not you.”

Kelaros drives his fist into a pillar, fracture lines racing through the structure. “The stag was a mindless guardian! It had no authority to choose!”

“It was the last fragment of the Opal King’s will,” I correct. “The heart you consumed was meant for the new vessel the court created. You’ve torn away half of what held the court together.”

Enraged, Kelaros stalks toward me. “I took what was mine by right of power. The court needs a King.”

“The court already has a King. He could have woken. Everything could have been fixed.” I stand my ground as he approaches, crystal formations rising from the floor to wall him off. “But you ruined that, and now the court needs release.”

His rage cools into calculation. “Then we shall rule together, cousin. Your fragment and my Royal lineage, combined.”

Liar. The moment I lower my guard, he’ll drain me dry to add to his own power.

But what he doesn’t seem to understand is that soon, because of his actions, nothing will remain but uncontained chaos. It will sweep through the cracks into the living sithes, destroying them the way Kelaros destroyed the hollow stag.

“You were too greedy.” My hand slides to my pocket, fingers closing around the small object hidden there. “But you fail to account for one thing.”

“What could you possibly teach me?” he scoffs.

I withdraw the palm-sized mirror I took from Moryth Nyt’Fall. Not big enough to escape through, but enough for what must be done.

Kelaros’s head tilts in curiosity. “What trinket do you grasp at now, little Wolf? Another pathetic attempt at escape?”

“No, not escape.” I activate the sigil on my palm, blood magic flaring to life.

The mirror responds, its silver surface liquefying beneath my hand. My fingers sink through the frame, and ley line energy floods into me from the human realm beyond.

“What are you doing, darkling?” Kelaros lunges forward, but crystal spikes erupt from the floor to block his path.

The court protects me now.

“Not a darkling.” With my free hand, I reach up to pull off the glamour ear cuffs, revealing my true self. “Witch.”

The color drains from his complexion. “Impossible.”

The magic builds within me, a storm gathering force. My hair lifts from my shoulders, floating in a corona around my head.