Epilogue

EPILOGUE

The feather was very, very bright.

Callan wasn’t afraid of the light—that much was true—but it weakened him. He couldn’t travel through light, he couldn’t call on its powers, he couldn’t bend it to suit his needs. Normally he would simply find the shadows the light created and hide there, but the feather was too close for him to do that.

The feather was sitting inside him, trying to fill him with warmth.

Fucking Athan.

The feather prevented Callan from traveling very far in the shadows. No matter how fast he went or where he tried to go, the phoenix feather ended up washing out the darkness and forcing him back into his physical form.

It did put a bit of a damper on things. Callan leaned back against the ruins—carefully keeping himself well within their shade—and looked across the clearing.

The altar was still there, the dark magic pulsing inside it. Sure, it was a little bit singed, but nothing that would prevent it from getting used for its purposes. The faint, worn down lines of spell runes were still waiting for magic to be poured into them.

One phoenix feather wouldn’t be enough.

You promised me release, Callan.

Callan flinched against the stinging voice in his mind. “Apologies, Master. I am a bit… incapacitated right now.”

The seal holding his master in place was just underneath the dais’s stone, buried to prevent any human from accidentally unleashing something beyond their ken. Fifty humans had been sacrificed to create it, and wasn’t that something of an irony—that they killed their own to prevent Callan’s master from killing them.

Eoghan’s ancestor had been a very pragmatic person. A shame Callan hadn’t been able to devour her personally.

Three generations later, and Eoghan had apparently forgotten what Callan’s master had wrought on this land. Or maybe he thought he would be better at controlling a being of unknowable power than his ancestors had been.

Using Athan to unseal the altar had been the shortcut attempt. Callan could see the fraying around the edges of the seal. It really was too bad Elric had somehow gained a conscience.

Or maybe Callan was still a little bit soft for Athan.

I made you. I can unmake you.

Callan coughed, and he gripped the stone wall behind him as acid raced down his throat, eating away at him. He tried to buffer it with his own darkness, but with the feather weakening his power, all he could do was choke on the poison.

The acid never reached the feather.

Callan leaned forward and spat out dark bile, which hissed and steamed as it melted the stone beneath him.

“I’ll—I’ll find another way,” Callan promised, coughing as he spoke. “The—the amulet. The key to this altar. It was stolen out of their vaults. I’ll find it.”

It was a worse plan than using a phoenix’s life, but he was in no shape to confront Athan anymore. Even finding a simple thief would be more difficult now, especially if the thief was avoiding this altar.

But Callan was resourceful. He wouldn’t let a phoenix feather in his chest keep him from fulfilling his goals.

He would release his master and regain the power he’d once possessed.

Maybe he’d reward himself by consuming the thief once he found them. Anybody who was able to steal the amulet out from under all those protections would have to be a very delectable meal.

Callan smiled as he let himself fall into the shadows.