Page 58 of Vanquished Gods
Barefoot, I stood in the forest, my toes sinking into the cool, damp soil. Maelor had been missing for two weeks, but according to Sion, that was a common occurrence. He said we should focus on preparing for the invasion, that Maelor would look after himself. So, we spent the weeks practicing my magic, running around the forest, attacking formations of vampire soldiers. That morning, I was hunting. I just had no idea where my target had gone.
As I held my wand, I felt the earthy magic of the forest wash over me. I wore a thin, wispy gown that clung to my skin, allowing the oaky breeze to brush over me. Above, the canopy of leaves sighed in the wind, sunlight piercing through in rays that stained the ground with patches of gold. I took it all in—the soft rustling, the burbling stream nearby, the loamy scent of the woods. The world thrummed with buried power as I tuned in to my own magic, my heartbeat pulsing in time with nature.
I was supposed to be hunting Sion, but an ancient vampire was much more elusive than a stag. For one, he moved with an otherworldly speed, just shadows unspooling in the corner of my vision. Not to mention, he was technically dead—or undead, as he liked to call it. He didn’t have a heartbeat I could sense. Nordid he have breath I could hear. He moved with the predatory grace of a hunting wolf, his footsteps nearly silent but fast as lightning.
Until, finally, I felt it—a shiver in the air. His dark magic wended through the forest like coiling smoke, resonating deep in the soil. I breathed in the dark, compelling beauty of Sion’s power, a midnight touch that sent shivers skittering across my skin. Through the mossy earth, I felt the subtle shift of footfalls like ripples across a pond. My back tingled. He was right behind me.
I spun, scanning the woods for him. I tightened my grip on the yew wand, its wood humming with the energy of the god of death. His gaunt, ivory face flared in my thoughts like a ghost, urging me on. Shadows darted between the trees, and I unleashed a tendril of magic from the tip of my wand, power rushing through me. I sensed the hit as a tug deep in my chest.
“A hit,” Sion called out. He was still moving, his voice echoing from a different direction. Behind me again. I spun, my magic flaring wildly, but this strike went wide.
The man was so bloody fast. The forest breathed around me, alive with my magic and his, but the man was like smoke in the wind.
Movement between the trees…I sprinted, feet flying over roots and rocks. The sun-dappled forest shifted around me, shadows and light mingling. My breath came in sharp gasps, but I wasn’t slowing. Tension crackled in the air, power surging through my body.
A shape flickered ahead, darkness pooling unnaturally in a ray of sun.
Sion.
His magic coiled from his body like black smoke, spooling out into the forest, wrapping around me. He wasn’t going tomake this easy, was he? He was enveloping me in a bubble of his shadows.
The cold of night spilled around me, and my pulse quickened as I felt its chill trail along my skin.
I channeled her again, the king of bones, and his wild, raw power surged through my veins like a storm wind. I could feel the earth responding—roots shifting beneath my feet, the dead leaves thrumming with buried magic, the magic of rot and decay, of the mushrooms and yews that thrived on the death of all things. Her ancient presence unfurled in my mind, and I let it bloom in the shadows around me.
It was like Percival had said about Cecily, the witch who sculpted rocks out of thin air: our magic could materialize and shape reality, constructing it. My power knew the magic of the night, longed for it, and they reached for each other like reunited lovers. Shadow and decay, night and oblivion, embracing in a shroud around me, his shadows now carrying my death. I pulled the darkness into myself, and then I hurled it back at him from the tip of my wand. It surged, almost alive, and I wasn’t sure if I could contain it.
Was I in control, or was the Serpent?
I could feel myself pushing to the edges of my power, draining my magic. My legs started to shake. With a racing heart, I pulled the magic back into myself, gasping as it charged my body again.
But the use of that much magic left me feeling weakened, shaking. Dizziness swirled in my mind. My breath came in quick, ragged bursts as I whirled to face him—Sion, standing just behind me, his eyes locked on mine as he towered over me.
“What was that?” he asked softly.
I realized too late that I was pressed up against his chest. My wrist brushed against his forearm, and I felt the coolness of his skin touching my own flushed body.
I craned my neck to stare up at him. His gaze flared as he searched my eyes.
“Our magic combined,” I said breathlessly. “Deathly shadows. But it left me feeling weak after I used that much.”
“You will be able to build up your endurance for using magic, like Maelor and I have. But even for us, it’s not unlimited. That’s why we can’t hold the shadows forever. Using magic drains you, and you need time to recover. To let it back in, build back up.”
“So, how do we take on an entire army if I can only use my magic for a minute?”
“Do you realize what’s happening right now, Elowen?”
“You’re standing in my way?” I whispered.
“Your skin is pressed against mine.” His lips curved into a slow smile, something akin to pride sparking in his eyes. “And I feel not a single charge of magic passing between us. At least, not of the deathly variety.”
I glanced down where my hand rested against his forearm, and my eyes widened. I turned my palm upward, staring at it in wonder. Was this truly happening?
Tentatively, I lifted my hand and pressed it flat against his face, feeling the sharp line of his jaw, his cool skin. He stared down at me, entranced.
“Anything?” I whispered.
“Not from your death magic. Just from you.”