Page 48 of Vanquished Gods
I turned to him, raising my eyebrows. “Anything I should change?”
“I could feel your body tensing right before you released. Your breath went still, and you closed off the energy from the soil. You need to let it in, keep replenishing your power constantly.”
It reminded me of what Sion had said in the temple: I needed to let the power back in. And Maelor was right. I’d felt myself close off, and already now, hunger flickered in the pit of my chest, the emptiness that made me want to slaughter people with my magic.
I closed my eyes once more, focusing on the beating heart of the forest, breathing in woodland energy around me. In the hollows of my mind, an image flickered—a man with pale features and sharp cheekbones, his eyes dark and haunted. Thegod of death. The Serpent craved mortal lives…ravenous. Bone white, he grew from the rich soil. Coiled in serpents, he ripped the heads off roses, scattered the petals…he reaped life from the world and sowed it back into the earth, fertilizing his garden with decay. He harvested the living.
My body vibrated with his energy.
As I inhaled, magic again streamed into me from the ground.
“Let the magic cycle within you,” Maelor said, “like eddies in a stream.”
With my eyes still closed, I concentrated on his words.
“Now, open your eyes.”
I looked up as Maelor reached down from behind me, touching my hand, and I felt a charge pass between us, though his gaze remained fixed ahead. “There. Do you see those blackbirds?”
I looked from his face and locked my eyes on a pair of blackbirds perched in a tree, their glossy feathers washed in sunlight. One of them called out, a clear, high note that pierced the rustling leaves. My heart pounded, and my breath shallowed.
“I’ll help you channel it.” Maelor’s breath was warm against my ear as he leaned down, his hand still covering mine. “Feel the magic of the forest flowing into your veins, down along your arm. Let it become you. Don’t think about it too much. This magic is a part of you.”
I inhaled slowly, envisioning the magic flowing inside me. I exhaled, releasing it, and a dark tendril of energy shot from the wand, twisting through the air. It slammed into the tree, missing the target again—but that time, just barely.
Maelor lowered his hand from mine. “Very good.”
Hunger opened in my chest, just below the surface, a dark, clawing need. My skin prickled, and I licked my lips.
“Now draw it back into your body,” he said quietly. “Like breathing in and out. Close your eyes again. Listen to the livingworld of the forest. Listen to its breath, its beating heart. It feeds on decay.”
That time, when I closed my eyes, I felt a stronger heartbeat. That of a king. It moved closer, feet crunching over leaves.
Maelor leaned in again, his palm resting against the back of my hand as I raised my wand. Between Maelor and me, energy crackled in the air.
“Open your eyes,” he whispered.
When I did, my eyes locked on a deer in the distance. My breath quickened.
“Let your power surge into you,” Maelor whispered, “filling you. Focus on your target, and release it.”
I breathed out, letting go. That time, as I exhaled, the magic flowed swiftly and smoothly—a dark tendril shooting out for the deer, then flowing back in through my feet. Just as the deer fled, my magic struck the spot where it had been standing moments before.
I bared my teeth, already wanting more.
I found myself leaning into Maelor. His powerful body helped to channel the magic along with mine, and it charged into both of us, replenishing me.
I remembered something Maelor had said to Sion in an argument once:The Mormaer dragged us back from death, where we belonged.
Was that why I was drawn to them? They belonged withme.
“There,” Maelor murmured. “And as you let the magic back in?—”
“Isn’t this cozy?” A rich, velvety voice interrupted us.
I turned, peering around Maelor’s body to see Sion leaning against a tree, arms folded, shadows sliding through the air around him.
CHAPTER 22