Chapter 65

We all felt better once the box was retrieved and we ensured the knife and the amulet were both intact.

Bexley went back to puttering, stopping every so often to listen, though he was now a part of this, so I didn't get the need for sneaking around.

"I lost the keystone." Anaria's shoulders sagged. She was on Zor's lap now, his wings folded protectively around her, a fact I found worrisome, given they were sharp as knives, but she didn't seem to mind, running her fingers through them while Zor beamed.

"As it turns out, that one belonged to the Oracle, just another one of her little games to fuck with me. Typical." She slanted me a look, pouting slightly. "So I have neither a fancy box nor a magical stone of power like the rest of you."

"Bex." The mage's head instantly snapped up. "Did you bring the other stone? The loose one?"

"I barely got yours in time before you were devoured alive by those…things," he muttered tartly. "No, I did not bring any extras. Sorry to disappoint."

"What about this new magic?" Anaria asked. "Can I still use the knife?" She hadn't moved to touch the weapon, and since the damn thing would pretty much kill the rest of us, that lid had remained closed. There was a collective intake of breath when Bexley, of all people, flipped the box open.

"You have all the magic you need to kill Corvus. As for the weapon, pick it up and see." The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Maybe it was my imagination, but the mage was acting…off.

Guilty, almost.

"Are you sure?" I asked, doubts raising their ugly heads over his increasingly odd behavior.

"Pick up the weapon, Anaria. Remember our exercise with the flame?" Bexley smiled faintly when she nodded, sliding off Zor's lap. "This is the same thing. You need to train yourself to use the blade, become a conduit to the magic instead of fighting the effects."

I was lunging forward, a shout of warning on my tongue, when Anaria's pale, delicate hand wrapped around that ancient handle. Her expression changed the second she touched the metal, like a shutter had been drawn. All traces of softness melted away, leaving her face a blank mask.

But within that stony coldness, her eyes burned. Defiant. Raging.

"It's…it's…"

I was still staring when I doubled over from a brutal, demanding yank beneath my heart. Like someone had dug their hand between my ribs, grabbed a fistful of muscle, and twisted. I wasn't the only one. Tavion gasped, Zorander groaned, Tristan sucked in a ragged breath.

Power whipped around the room like a raging wildfire, igniting us each in turn, Anaria's newly forged magic fueling that spark at our core like a match to dry tinder, and we burned at the command of our queen.

Like some avenging spirit of old, Anaria hoisted the knife over her head, white hair tangled around her beautiful face, dressed in a blood-splattered shirt, her legs bare, and never had I beheld such indominable power.

My legs shook, everything inside me demanding I fall to my knees and bow.

A brilliant aura of pure, undiluted magic glowed around her, so blindingly bright that I blinked the scene back into focus, finally seeing what I'd missed before.

A star hung suspended in the empty place within the blade, gleaming with the same iridescent light spilling out of Anaria.

Blaring in power, the star exploded through the shredded room, plaster and wood sundering around us. I tasted blood. We all did, a rivulet of red tracking down Zor's face. Tavion's.

Tristan was doubled over, panting, shuddering beneath the onslaught.

Hang on, her voice echoed in my head. Hang on a little longer.

Oh gods. This punishing onslaught wasn't meant for our mortal bodies to withstand. Wasn't meant for flesh and bone to hold. This was like trying to cup a thunderstorm in your palms. Impossible.

But then Anaria lowered her hand, the weapon winking out. The storm passed, leaving a kernel of raw power burning at my center. Not hot, this fire burned glacially cold like the center of a dying universe.

Like our old, lifeless world we'd left behind, nothing but a barren rock.

I didn't know where the thought came from, only that I knew it was true.

"The knife was never the weapon," Bexley murmured, carefully setting down the books. "Anaria is. You are. Your magic is the catalyst; she's the conduit, channeling all your powers to form that star of pure magic and become the spear that slays the monster."

Pride shone in the mage's brown eyes. "Fatal to an Old God. Once that blade pierces Corvus, nothing will save him. We made sure of that. However…"

He nervously traced the cover of the book in front of him. "There is something I must show you. A truth I kept hidden because I wasn't sure you could be trusted. I hope you'll forgive me." Without another word, Bexley turned and walked out.

We followed him to a basement hewn from the bedrock, past cobweb-draped rooms that could have been dungeon cells, along a dank corridor ending in a solid cast iron door. Every square inch was covered in that nulling metal—the intricate hinges, the emblem of the three goddesses, even the complicated lock which resembled a handprint melted into the metal.

Cobwebs hung in thick sheets from the ceiling, and so much dust clogged the air, I doubted anyone had been down here in centuries.

"Place your hand in that depression," Bexley instructed Anaria, "and the door will open."

Every single instinct prickled, and I swallowed, meeting Zor's eyes.

Her hand looked so delicate against the aged, blackened metal, but deep within the door I heard a series of clicks followed by a raspy metallic groan, then the door clicked open.

"I'll go in first," I murmured, finally close enough to run my hand down her back, cup her chin, and peer into her eyes. "Hey. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you when I should have been," I told her softly. "You had us all scared."

Her lips quirked. "Yeah, well, you scared me more. Kicking monster arse and taking names. I like your style," she teased, grinning as I stepped toward that choking darkness.

"Stop right there," Bexley shouted, his voice high and thin. "Only Anaria can go inside. No one else will survive the ward." Bex wrung his hands together, and I pulled Anaria back, away from that dark opening that now seemed far more threatening than it had a few seconds ago.

Everyone adjusted their positions, leaving Bexley surrounded by four pissed-off, nervous, overprotective males.

"What the fuck has you so jumpy tonight, Bex?" I asked softly, putting myself between the mage and Anaria.

With his wings raised, Zor positioned himself directly behind the mage. Tavion lounged halfway down the corridor looking for all the world like he was only half-paying attention, when in reality, he was one second away from shifting into his wolf and going absolutely feral.

"I'm not…" Bexley's dishwater brown eyes skimmed between us, filling with doubt and fear. "It's only…you will be very angry with me, I think, when you discover what is inside this room."

"What are you hiding, Bex?" Zor asked softly. "You'd better start talking, because in case you can't tell, we are all very much on edge right now."

"I'm not hiding anything." The mage had the audacity to look offended. "I've never even been inside that room, but if my suspicions are correct, behind that door is a portal to Stormfall."

"Well, I'm not standing around debating. I'm going in." Before I could grab her, Anaria was through the door, the faint whoosh of the ward falling accompanied by a rush of ice-cold air blurring past us and disappearing down the corridor.

"There, the room is perfectly safe." She waved us in. "No scary monsters." The room was a sphere, less than twelve paces across, the seamless walls polished to such a mirror-like finish, we were reflected along every wall. Anaria approached the…portal, which was more like a gleaming crystal pillar with a glowing light suspended above the reflective surface.

"What exactly is this place?" Anaria leaned close enough her nose almost touched that humming glow, and I fought the urge to yank her back. She looked over her shoulder at Bexley. "This doesn't look like any portal I've ever seen."

The mage shrugged, reaching out to touch her arm, but jerked his hand back when I growled softly. "I imagined a doorway, but this appears to work differently."

We'd all crammed into the tiny space, careful not to touch the pillar, or that glowing globe, or to jostle Anaria, who was entirely too close. I ran a hand down the reflective wall. This room was constructed from the same dark granite as Stormfall.

The stones even smelled like the fortress, seeped with ancient cruelty and cold.

"Hello?" Anaria cocked her head, peering into the orb. "I think…I think I see movement inside there. Shadows."

I shifted my feet, every instinct on high alert, and beside me, Zorander did the same. Tristan moved closer to the mage, Tavion stepping directly behind Anaria, prepared to snatch her away. "Are we sure this leads to Stormfall and not somewhere else?"

I drew my knife from my scabbard. "Bexley, where does this portal go?"

If wringing your hands was an expression, that's what was written all over the mage's face. "This has to lead to Stormfall. It's the only explanation that makes sense." He frowned, muttering to himself, "But what if this wasn't a portal, per se, but merely a means of communication?"

"The Wynters would have needed a way to keep the High Priestess informed of their progress without arousing the Fae King's suspicions." Tavion looked like a ghost, bathed by that white glow. "An undetectable means of communication makes far more sense."

"So you can talk through this?" Anaria breathed. "What sort of magic does that?"

"Anaria?"

We all took a healthy step back as Bella's voice echoed hollowly out of the light, before the glow dimmed enough for a cloudy image to solidify inside the globe. "You found the Vitreglobe. We didn't think the device still worked. The Wynters should have destroyed it."

"They never got the chance," Tavion muttered behind me.

"I can actually see you." Anaria squinted, reached toward the light, then tucked her hands behind her with a wry smile. "How is this possible?"

Bella grinned. "Trade secret, I'm afraid. We use smaller versions of these globes when we travel long distances, and this form of communication is faster than sending a raven. This is a bigger version, capable of higher magic."

"What sort of higher magic?" Tavion asked roughly, his hand poised to drag Anaria away. "Is this…device dangerous?"

"Not at all." Bella laughed, the sound dissonant like it echoed down a long hallway. "Though, after so many years of unuse, I'm surprised the mirrors are still working. My mother happened to hear your voices and notice our globe glowing, which is stored in the High Priestess's meeting chamber."

"How secure is this?" I asked, leaning forward until my cheek brushed Anaria's. "Can anyone hear what we are saying?" Because if that globe became another thing for the Oracle to use against us, I'd shut this down right now.

"Only the people standing in that room and my mother and myself."

Vesper leaned into the picture, and Anaria grinned and waved. "Hi, Vesper. It's so good to see you." Vesper tipped her head solemnly before Bella came back into view.

"We've heard some disturbing reports that the wall separating Varitus fell. That was you, I take it?"

Anaria nodded. "That was most definitely us. But maybe I'd better start at the beginning. A lot has happened since we left Stormfall." Anaria explained everything. About killing the Shadow King and Trubahn and finding the weapon. The blight and losing the Fae magic to the Oracle.

While they talked, Tavion went back to pacing the circumference of the small, rounded room, Zor blocking the doorway with his wings. Tristan crouched down, inspecting the clear glass pillar. Bexley stayed out of the way, pressed against the wall.

"You found the Aetherial?" Bella leaned forward far enough her nose flattened against the other side of the globe. "We've only ever heard stories…You truly have the knife?"

"The box is upstairs, but I'll bring it down and show you." Anaria grinned. "But we have both pieces. The knife came from Mysthaven, and the amulet we recovered from Trubahn's." She caught my eye and I shook my head. No sense in going into that whole story right now. Not when time was so precious.

"Bella, I have…witch magic too. Enough to wield the knife. We have everything to stop Corvus, but we're running out of time. We know Blackcastle is already lost…"

"But it's not. The blight stopped spreading the moment you dropped the wall. We got a raven from Torin who reported…Corvus changed focus entirely when the ward fell. He headed west and abandoned Blackcastle. The blight stops short of the city."

I swore the air inside the room lightened.

"Good," Zor muttered, raking his hand over his shorn head. "That's good."

"Unless the Oracle makes good on her promise to burn the city down. We need to distract her. Only long enough for us to get to Corvus's cave." There was a slight tremble beneath Anaria's brave words, and I gripped her hand and squeezed.

"What can we do to help?" Bella asked. "You'll have to cross the Pale, but our ravens—the few that have returned—report the Hammer is completely overtaken by blight. You won't be able to get close, not on foot." Her eyes narrowed. "And you'll have to be close in order to use the weapon."

"We need to slow the Oracle down," I growled. "A distraction to draw her attention elsewhere. Give us time to get into position." A day of travel, I estimated, then another day to climb to that cave cut halfway up the side of the mountain.

"We'll see what we can do." Bella's face hardened. "You said she's heading for Blackcastle? Half the city's been evacuated, but there are still a few stragglers."

Zor stepped into sight and Bella's eyebrows rose, even Vesper looking shocked as they took in his wings rustling slightly as he crossed his arms. "What I wouldn't give for a safe house right about now," Zor muttered. "Close enough for us to easily fly to the Hammer in less than an hour, but somewhere hidden from Corvus and Gelvira."

Shadowy Bella and shadowy Vesper traded a look. "There is such a place. Though no one has been there in thousands of years. A northern watchtower, once manned by our fiercest warriors to sound the alert whenever the Mystara stirred in their cave, so we could make preparations for war."

"Is it still there?" Anaria asked breathlessly. "Because that sounds perfect."

Shadows moved on the other side of the globe, Bella and Vesper holding one of their silent conferences before the High Priestess nodded.

"The tower was built by the conclave so long ago, no one alive has ever been, but it's east of the Ironhearts, situated at the very edge of the Pale, and nothing can breach those walls."

Someone handed her something, and she peered at it for a moment before setting it down in front of her with a metallic clink. "The council agrees, by blood this belongs to you, Anaria."

Bella pushed a key onto the surface in front of her, and within seconds, that same key appeared on the smooth crystal top of the pedestal. "Because of your witch blood you'll be able to penetrate the ward, but we don't know what you'll find or if the tower still stands."

Anaria hesitated then picked up the key, an ethereal silver glow gilding the dark iron forged into an intricate design resembling intertwined vines and arcane symbols.

"But Darkspire is as close to the Hammer as the witches ever dared get."

Bella smiled slightly. "If you need more information, you can ask Bexley hiding over there in the corner. How are you doing, Bex?"

Bexley crept into view. "Very well. How are things at Stormfall?"

"We miss you, Bex. But I'm glad you took our directive seriously and are doing everything in your power to assist Anaria in her quest." Bexley winced as Bella's face hardened. "You are doing everything possible, aren't you Bex?"

The mage wilted under the weight of our stares, especially Anaria, who studied him with narrowed eyes. "You know I am," he said stiffly, tugging on the collar of his robe. "But this hasn't been easy."

"It never is, Bex." Bella folded her hands in front of her. "Bex will go with you to assist at Darkspire. The tower will give you anything you want. Weapons, food, maps, whatever you desire. And…wait." Bella smiled serenely. "There is someone who would like to say hello." Shadows moved behind her, then Lucius's and Dane's grinning faces filled the globe.

"Anaria, how has my son been treating you?" Lucius was…Lucius. No sign of fur or ears. Just a handsome Fae male with lines spreading from his green eyes and a smile on his face. "Like a queen, I hope?"

She laughed. "Other than his usual wickedness, he's been behaving himself." She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Most of the time, anyway. You look good, Lucius."

"I am." His gaze lifted over Anaria's shoulder to where his son stood, and his expression banked. "I am better than good. Hello, Tav. It's good to see you, son."

"Father." Tavion's smile was genuine, and even though Lucius's face was shadowy, I swore there were tears in his eyes. "You made it. I was worried."

"We really don't have time for reunions," Zorander grumbled, pulling me aside while Tavion traded war stories with his uncle. "Do you think this secret room is the reason the mage has been acting so squirrely?" His dark eyes were clear and focused, as if the old Zorander had been sharpened on a whetstone to a razor-sharp point.

"I thought I trusted him." I kept my eyes pinned on Bex, Tristan watching him every bit as closely from the other side of the room. "But we've been burned before, and everyone has a price, Zor."

"Don't I fucking know it." He flared his wings slightly, feathers rustling. Or maybe those were the knives concealed within the gleaming softness. "But a watchtower close to the Hammer? That news is better than anything I hoped for."

"Did you find anything, Lucius? About the blood oath?" Anaria was asking. "I know that was a tall order…"

"We broke the Oracle's hold over the coven," Lucius told her excitedly. "Everyone's marks are gone. You were right, the Oracle used the blood oath to put a trace of her magic into each member of the coven."

I was half listening as Lucius and Bella explained how they'd figured it out, also watching the mage, trying to pinpoint what, exactly, he was up to. He hadn't interfered. Hadn't delayed or held us back. In fact, he'd done exactly what Bella asked.

Helped us at every turn.

Lucius and Bella finished up, then Anaria asked the question we'd all been dreading.

"How is Adele?" There was so much hesitant hope contained in those words I wanted to drive my fist into the wall. Because we all knew what the answer would be. Nothing good.

"She is settling in, learning to work with others," Bella said a tad stiffly. "In time, she will find her purpose."

"Thank you for giving my mother a place." Anaria pressed her hand to her heart. "Even if she never says the words, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Tell her that I hope she finds her way."

Zorander turned his back, muttering the same curse echoing inside me. "She's too good for us, you know that? Too fucking good." I nodded in agreement.

"We will arrange a distraction for the Oracle and draw her away from Blackcastle," Bella was saying. "Give you as much time as possible."

Anaria inclined her head. "Thank you. We'll make this count," she said, her voice thick.

"Oh, and Bexley?" Bella called, and the mage popped his head up. "I'm assuming you still have your Vitreglobe? Use that once you reach the watchtower, and we will send help if you call."

And while the mage didn't transform into a mouse, he shrank even smaller as every eye in the room landed on him.