Chapter 3

I t sometimes feels like everywhere in Washington is named Bear Creek, especially on the eastside. So I can tell you that I went to a Bear Creek grove and that will not in any way help you find it on a map, because there's forest all over the place. It's also not right on a trail, because I'm not stupid.

Basically, this particular grove is easy for me to get to, and not so easy for any random passerby to find, and that's by design.

For years I've been infusing the tiny amount of magic it's possible to accrue in Low Earth into it rather than using the spell High Earth taught us to send magic to them. It's about the only thing we're able to do in this world without wands to access and direct power. I may have dropped the ball with people preparations for this vanishingly unlikely possibility, but never let it be said I don't have my magical preparations well in hand.

(Very on brand, to be honest—bad at people but stellar at magic.)

That thought is enough to convince me to cast a very light shield around me as Nathaniel and I speedily hike through the pine trees. Since he doesn't know where we're going, I have to lead, and I'm not going to risk him stabbing me in the back. But I'm also trying to reserve as much magic as possible, so this will just serve as a warning to me if he closes in so I can cast something more serious.

But he notices.

"I gave you my word," he says in a low, dangerous voice.

Soft, but it drops like a blot of ink into the quiet of the forest. We're surrounded by pine trees particularly, and there's moss on the ground, and it all feels very hushed.

And alive, and waiting.

The kind of peaceful right before an enemy jumps out from behind a tree at you.

I am extremely not used to walking this path with anyone at my side.

I answer, "And I appreciate that and hope I can trust it, but I also don't know what your word is worth. I'm not going to risk blowing my only chance at this because precautions offend you."

He sighs. "I suppose counseling you against expending magic needlessly will only heighten your paranoia."

"Sterling effort to sneak that in anyway, I do applaud you."

Nathaniel snorts. "And you won't explain to me why you're worried about giving me information, but not about me being present when you fight the grand magus?"

I consider. "No."

He snorts again. "Am I to be seen and not heard, then?"

I can picture his lithe grace and hear the echo of his velvety voice in my head too easily. "I suspect you're equally dangerous either way. As long as you don't infuse your magic into my grove, we won't have a problem."

The footsteps behind me stop for a long moment, before he rushes to catch up.

"You win," Nathaniel says. "I'm intrigued."

"I'm falling over myself with pleasure at the thought," I say absently as he snorts again, because we're here.

My Bear Creek grove is a very small clearing surrounded by a circle of mostly evergreen trees but one deciduous one right in the middle. I'm not a tree expert—for the type of magic I do it's not relevant.

What matters is that it's big enough to be sturdy but small enough that I can climb it and break off small branches without severely damaging it.

Nathaniel sucks in a breath. "I feel it. This can't all be yours."

"No, this was a power spot before I found it."

I step inside the circle and take a deep breath as the feeling of magic surrounds me.

Magic gathers naturally in places and in people—but not all places or all people. The people it gathers in are wizards. The places are power spots.

People can draw power from places full of magic, and they can also imbue places with more magic. Any person or place that attempts to contain more magic than it has capacity for will overflow. In people, that generally manifests as sudden random organ failures and death; in nature it tends to be more dramatic. Unanticipated earthquakes, floods, that sort of thing.

Fortunately, a place can only accumulate too much magic if a person causes it—that can't happen on its own. Like if you try to imbue a place too fast, with a lot of people working together or with a spell amplifier.

Unfortunately, people absolutely can gather too much magic into themselves without trying.

The whole point of what Low Earthers learn in High Earth is to send magic safely back out of ourselves into the world so we don't die.

But the reason High Earth teaches us is because what magic we expel, they can absorb into their world, draining ours dry.

I used to come here to just feel at peace, whole again.

Today, the familiar magic is like electricity on my skin.

Today, I'm not choosing peace.

Nathaniel is staring around intently but doesn't make any move to enter the grove, so I ease my death-grip on Evram's wand and get to work, shifting leaves off the forest floor to make myself a canvas.

"Why are the stones arranged around the edges like that?" he asks.

So, he knows enough to spot a spell anchor, but not enough to know what it does—or at least he's pretending to. Interesting, but that doesn't give me any more information on what his background actually is .

"An experiment. It's a containment spell." One that took me ages to set up, especially given that I couldn't just spend magic to make sure the goddamn stones didn't blow away in a strong wind.

That won't be a problem today.

Nathaniel sucks in a breath, and that's more interesting, because it means even without knowledge of spell mechanics in an instant he's recognized the implications.

"You're testing the world's capacity," he says wonderingly. "You don't believe what you've been taught."

I glance back at him. "And you don't either, do you?"

Slowly, he shakes his head. "No. I've always believed this world can hold as much magic as any other. You proved it?"

A more loaded question than he realizes. "To my satisfaction, yes. The containment keeps the magic from flowing into the surrounding forest or away to High Earth, and I've been infusing my natural magic here as much as possible for the last ten years. This tree, and the ones at the edge of the circle, flourish with no ill effects."

"No mini-ice ages, no plagues?" Nathaniel's voice is gently mocking, but it's not directed at me. His obvious disdain makes me like him better, which is dangerous since I don't know if I can trust him and he clearly wants me to.

But "for our own good" is supposedly the justification for why High Earth started sucking away our world's natural magic, back around the fall of Rome.

As if natural disasters like plagues and ice ages haven't happened at other times before and since. When I was seven I didn't know enough about Earth's history to realize this was an obviously ridiculous claim, but I know now. The familiar anger fills me.

"Just old-fashioned greed for more power. If it were true, they could have just keyed wands for Low Earthers anchored to High Earth power spots so we could still access enough magic to do real spells." Evram wasn't even willing to do that for me, and it made me think.

And then act.

Standing as I am in the middle of a power spot, I feel Nathaniel's magic flare. I whirl to see him gazing at me so intently it takes my breath away.

He does not have that kind of power in this world as a human. No way.

"But you now have a wand," he purrs, "and a spot of resonance with yourself."

Well, at least if he's not human that means he's less likely to be working for High Earth, but it's the angels who helped High Earth set up the magic-sucking spell in the first place.

But it's the first time someone has seen me in so long that I don't have to work hard to manufacture a grin for him, as if I have no concerns at all that this person I don't know and have no reason to trust is here with me at the most pivotal moment in my life and has realized what I'm up to.

"You missed one," I say, holding his gaze. "I have a wand, I have magic resonance, and I have a hell of a lot of knowledge of magic theory."

"Well, well." Nathaniel nods slowly, and I suppress a shiver and grip Evram's wind lightly, ready—I'm not sure if he means that to come out as menacing as it does. "This will be more interesting than I realized."

It's my turn to snort. "So glad you deign to approve. Will you stop talking and let me focus?"

"Oh, by all means." He backs up into the trees and seems to dissolve into shadow, which would not be possible without magic. I hear branches nearby creak—he must have chosen a place in a tree to observe—but I still hear his voice as if it were next to me purr, "Let me see what you can do."

The thrill of challenge spears through me again, just like with Evram. A puzzle for you, Sierra. I roll my eyes and resolutely turn my back.

"I was going to do that anyway."

The ground is clear.

I close my eyes, picturing the spell I need to write in my mind.

Then I open my eyes, set Evram's wand against the ground, and start drawing arcane symbols. I channel magic through the wand so that my scribing embeds the spell into the ground. It will last even if the wind picks up and washes away my tracks in the dirt.

This is the first step: I need to anchor Evram's wand to the magic of this world and to me, so that when he inevitably cuts off his wand's connection to the magic power spot it draws from in High Earth, I'll still be able to work. It's probably the first thing he did when he got back—he'll want to have left some access, so he can easily get his wand working again when he gets back, but to limit how much I can draw on.

Unfortunately, I don't finish before a portal opens.

Shit. I knew the clock was ticking, but I really did think I'd have more time before Evram could mobilize a force to come after me.

But only two figures step through the portal, which is not the organized cohort I expected and explains the speed.

One is Evram, of course, but he doesn't have a wand—he's planning on taking back the one I have.

But unlike at Comic Con, he's brought someone with him who I recognize.

Destien.

He's older now, and filled out. He let himself age into his mid-thirties, and it looks good on him—rich brown hair with perfect curls, chiseled jaw over warm brown skin that sets off his perfectly tailored champagne mage tabard. In fairness, everything always looked good on him, even without the cosmetic magic he could easily afford given his lineage, so this isn't a surprise. When he walks into a room, eyes follow him—not like moths to a flame, but more like he exudes his own gravitational force. He's solid, and powerful, and when he moves—or hits—you fucking feel it.

Destien is a magus adept, the top level of practitioner before grand magus. He was born into a wealthy family with a long magical tradition that could support his way through all the magical training he could ever want, and he's had all the opportunities I always craved.

But for all his advantages, Destien doesn't have my brain, and while I lived in High Earth he never unseated me as the grand magus' champion.

We're not exactly friends, is what I'm getting at.

I don't wait for Destien to posture at me, because unlike the grand magus, we've personally dueled each other enough times for Destien to know perfectly well that if he doesn't get the drop on me, he'll be playing defense from the get-go.

I dive out of the grove, casting a shield behind me. And for all that it's transparent, it's a real shield, not like the flimsy thing I put up to warn me about Nathaniel trying anything.

What I absolutely can't afford is for them to drain my power spot. It's worth the magic expenditure.

Sure enough, Destien's orange bolt of magic cracks against the shield just ahead of where I'd been standing. An instant slower and I'd be down already.

By the size of the bolt, just unconscious though—which means Evram gave him instructions to avoid killing me, at least for now.

I can work with that.

"Destien, always a pleasure," I say. "I see your manners are as refined as ever."

"Cut the crap, Walker," Destien growls. "What do you think you're playing at? Stealing the grand magus' wand? You never did know your place."

He fires another bolt at me that I reflect back at him.

With one swipe of his wand, he deflects it away, along with the swirl of leaves I'd rustled to capture his ankles. Damn.

I am going to need more power before this is over, so with a big chunk of magic now sacrificed to the shield, I have a problem. I have to somehow beat Destien without expending much magic.

I've beaten him plenty of times before, but never with this handicap.

That doesn't stop me from turning the leafy ground cover slippery under his feet. It's a minor magic, but once he moves—and he's showy; he'll move—it'll buy me time.

"What about your place?" I ask him. "How's it feel, to only be the grand magus' champion by default because I'm no longer around, not because you beat me?"

"I'll beat you today," Destien vows grimly. Unhampered by my magic limitations, he creates five glowing bolts in a star around me that all spear toward me at different angles.

No way to dodge, and a shield will cost me too much. A tweak, then—just in time, I transform the bolts into toothless charge; they sizzle against my skin harmlessly, their actual magical punch smoking into the air.

I can't pull that one too often or I won't be able to breathe. Maybe once more.

But for now I take hold of that smoke with the wand and start shaping.

"What a contest," I drawl, "against an opponent that hasn't had the opportunity to duel in a decade."

Destien has clearly learned since I last saw him—he used to do that star, but the angles were always predictable and even—and he was never a dude you could afford to go less than full out on to begin with.

He shifts his stance, and then slips on my leaves. As steady as Destien is intrinsically, this takes him especially by surprise, and I don't miss my moment. While he's off-balance, I pull electrical charge from the air around us and shock him with it.

Then again, he hasn't had me as a sparring partner for ten years, either, so who's he had to challenge him?

Whereas I've had nothing but time to imagine all the ways I could perform magic here if only I had a wand.

Unfortunately, the amount of electricity I can pull here is too small. That would have worked better in the city.

Destien catches his footing, the gravitational force inexorably finding its center, firing back at me while I enclose him in the haze of smoke, disguising my next move.

And on and on we go, flitting among the trees.

I'm holding my own, despite my limited magical reserves, but the problem is it doesn't matter.

Destien doesn't have to beat me—he just has to keep me busy long enough to drain dry whatever High Earth reserves I have access to.

I can't beat him and finish the spell I was working on at the same time.

An eternity of mere minutes passes when Evram yells a startled oath.

So, he's seen the spell I'm writing, then. I haven't had time to pay attention to him and Destien both.

I should have obscured what I was working on, but I didn't have time—they'd already seen the trees, and an illusion that complex takes time. My alternative was to block their vision of the grove entirely, and that would have just made it a clear target.

"Sierra Walker, what do you think you're doing?" the old man thunders.

Neither Destien nor I pause.

"Destien, back here now," Evram snaps. "Get this shield down."

Shit. Should have blocked his view after all.

I dash back and arrive just before Destien, standing between my grove and two powerful High Earth mages.

Breathing hard, I hold the stolen wand out in front of me and plant my feet.

I will not let them have this.

Even if I have to kill them both.

"I can't believe," Evram says, "you would use all I gave you for something like this."

‘Something like this' meaning ‘hoarding magic selfishly for myself despite the damage it could do', is what he thinks he's implying.

‘Standing against him' is the real offense.

Mercurial as ever, the grand magus abruptly sighs in a disappointed way that still has the power to twist my heart. "What happened to you, Sierra?"

And that twist turns me to full wrath.

"What happened ?" I echo. "I loved you like a father, Evram. I did everything you asked of me for years and was glad to, and it didn't matter. I was so devoted to you that I never saw your betrayal coming. You changed me. And now you have the gall to expect me to just lie back and let someone who considers me lesser keep me, keep a whole world , from what you had no right to take in the first place? Fuck you."

My voice, harsh and out-of-breath as it is, echoes in the air.

Evram's expression hardens. "Destien. The shield."

I've pulled as much magic as I can. Literally—I reached the bottom of the well. Evram must know that, and he's banking that my attack will miss, or that Destien's can overwhelm me.

When I feel the sudden huge presence coming from Destien, it's the first time I've really worried the grand magus might be right.

Destien shoots magic at the shield. Again, and again, and again. Inexorably.

The shield won't stand up to this.

My plan changes. If they get the grove it's all over.

The shield comes down, and I focus all my magic, targeting Destien's wand. It'll have to go through his shields first, but—

Destien's wand snaps.

I blink, glancing down at my own wand as if it has the answers. But no—I didn't release any magic.

That wasn't me.

Shadows coalesce beside me into the form of Nathaniel.

Nathaniel , my ass.

"You would consort with demons, Sierra?" Evram demands.

Demon, a colloquial term for spirits, usually either implying that they're unusually and possibly unnaturally powerful or unusually but naturally evil.

The grand magus, like many people, just uses the term for all spirits, because he considers all of them beneath him.

But whatever Nathaniel is, the power I'm sensing from him now is definitely not normal for a spirit.

So ‘demon' is apt, in this case.

"I merely repay a debt for a broken oath," Nathaniel says smoothly—in their language.

Normally I'd think it makes sense for a spirit to know it, because they get summoned to High Earth, but I've never seen a spirit of this level of power.

"If not for my interference, she would have been finished with her work before you arrived," Nathaniel says. "With this, my debt is repaid."

I can't decide if that's bullshit—if it's just an excuse to step in, or if this was his plan all along to give him cover—but I don't hesitate.

I finish the spell I started before they got here, anchoring Evram's wand to the grove. The wood pulses with magic, a shockwave that ripples outward.

Then I break a branch off the tree.

I don't know how the first wand was made, but in the modern era, you need a wand to make another wand. It's why all mage training is in the form of apprenticeships: Your master has to help you make your wand.

And so he is, despite himself.

Destien is gaping at me like he can't believe my audacity while my former mentor looks on furiously.

"Sierra, you cannot come back from this," Evram hisses. "This is your last chance to return my wand, or I will not be able to save you."

I ignore him, breathing deeply of the magic around me, my magic and this world's together, and focusing.

I touch his wand to the new stick from my tree, and create the first wand of this world for generations.

It's like zapping myself with lightning, only I'm not electrocuted—I'm the lightning rod.

I was made for this.

I'm spotlighted in the center of the grove for a shining moment, and for that moment, my face lights up.

I'm back, baby.

Magic is mine again.

I want to laugh until I cry.

Instead, it's only then that I look a grand magus of High Earth in the eye, the smile falling off my face even as the light in my eyes remains.

"You were never interested in saving me," I tell my former mentor.

Then I snap his wand across my knee, and Evram swears as another shockwave of magic blasts outward, this one knocking all of us off our feet.

Except Nathaniel, who jumps lightly like gravity doesn't apply to him and settles right back down in his insouciant stance.

God, I like his style. Whoever he is.

Destien and I both roll immediately to a crouch in casting position, though his face darkens as he reflexively grips the end of a wand that no longer works.

Evram, expression as stormy as I've ever seen it, slowly picks himself up. "You'll run out of magic. And then you'll face the consequences for your actions."

I raise my wand— my wand—and tell him, "I no longer need saving."

And with the wand I made of my magic and this world's, I once again banish both of them back to High Earth.

Leaving me alone with a demon.