Varyn
“Varyn,” a gentle voice calls me. “Varyn Blackmoore.”
The sound pulls me from a deep sleep, yanking me back to consciousness. As I blink awake, the heavy weight of magic has vanished in the warehouse, leaving an unsettling emptiness behind. I attempt to push myself up, but the swift movement triggers a wave of nausea that rolls through me like a tide, threatening to pull me under once more.
Blinking away the haze, I focus on the strange woman before me. She kneels beside me, no longer aglow, her hair cascading around her delicate face like a halo. Her eyes are wide with concern, and I can see the apprehension stirring in them.
“Your name,” I demand.
“A-Audrey,” she stammers softly. “Audrey Sinclair.”
“Well, Audrey Sinclair, we need to move—now,” I order as I attempt to stand again. I stagger forward and motion for her to follow.
“Wait,” she halts as she rises from her knees, her eyes flickering around the space. “I don’t even know you. I can’t just go with you.” Her words suggest she’s hesitant, but her body language tells a different story. She stands with her body angled towards me, leaning in just slightly—an unconscious signal that she is open and ready to hear me out, coupled with a clear desire to be closer to me. She maintains eye contact, showing me a willingness to connect. She’s teetering on the precipice of trust.
“Listen to me carefully,” I begin, taking on a calm, reassuring tone to nudge her further over the edge. “We have very little time before they return to finish what they started. The ritual drained them of power, and they didn’t want to risk taking me on without their magic.”
Audrey’s eyes drift over my frame, taking me in. I may not be a hulking figure, but I was no stranger to strength. Years of honing my skills have chiseled my physique, each muscle defined and ready for action. Trained in Krav Maga and Systema—a Russian martial art that emphasizes hand-to-hand combat, grappling, and adaptability—as well as Aikido, which teaches the art of using an opponent’s energy against them, I’m equipped with skills that make me formidable in a fight.
“Who are they,” she asks, stepping closer to me.
“I’ll explain everything once we’re somewhere that doesn’t leave us vulnerable to another attack. I have a safe house near here,” I reply, my voice firm but reassuring. “We need to go,” I urge her, softening my gaze, hoping to ease her tension and encourage her to lower her guard. “Are you with me?” I extend my hand to her.
Thick silence hangs between us as I hold my hand out, every second stretching into an eternity. Her gaze bounces between my outstretched hand and my eyes, uncertainty fogging her expression. The tension between us is like a visible tightrope, threatening to snap with the slightest disturbance. I need her to come with me—to trust me. It’s the only way to get my magic back. I brace myself, waiting for her to make a choice that could change everything.
She lifts her eyes to meet mine. She hesitates, but her eyes soften, offering a small glimmer of trust. Slowly, she steps closer and raises her hand, trembling slightly as it reaches for mine.
“I’m with you,” she says softly. Relief floods me with her small gesture. It’s a crucial step, one that brings me closer to reclaiming what’s rightfully mine.
Leaving the warehouse is dangerous, but we must get to the safehouse. We step out, greeted by a raging storm. The rain lashes against us; each drop is a cold reminder of the chaos outside. Thunder rumbles ominously in the distance, causing Audrey to shiver. The streets are slick with water, glistening under the intermittent lightning flashes illuminating the sky.
I lead us through the city’s winding alleys, my senses on high alert as I scan our surroundings. The safe house is only a few blocks away, but each step feels charged with danger.
“Stick close to me,” I order, my voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. I glance back at her, making sure she understands.
The small, nondescript house comes into view, nestled between two taller buildings. Its shadowy windows and plain exterior offer nothing to draw the eye of strangers passing by. Rain cascades off the edges of the sagging old porch, pooling in the corners.
I step toward the door, but before I can touch it, a surge of energy explodes outward, slamming into me like a freight train. My barrier spell—one I’d forgotten about—throws me from the porch and sends me flying, crashing hard into the mud at the base of the stairs.
“What was that?” Audrey rushes down, her eyes wide as she pulls me up.
“A barrier spell. I forgot…I don’t have my magic anymore,” I growl through gritted teeth. “You’ll have to take it down.”
“Me?” Her hand flies to her chest in disbelief. “I-I can’t do it.”
“You have to,” I snap.
“I can’t,” she protests, panic filling her voice.
I grip her shoulders, forcing her to look at me.
“Yes, you can,” I say firmly. “I’ll help you.” I lead her up to the door, taking her right hand in mine and placing it over the barrier. “Repeat after me: Aperintia Veraclis.”
“A-Aperintia…” she stammers.
“—Veraclis,” I remind her softly, keeping my voice steady.
“Veraclis,” she murmurs. “Aperintia Veraclis.” We both stand frozen and breathless, waiting for the spell to take hold. “Nothing’s happening,” she whispers anxiously.
“Focus,” I urge her. “Breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Nice and slow. Focus on the air slowly filling your lungs as you steadily inhale and on it slowly leaving your lips like a whisper.” She closes her eyes and her breaths deepen with each inhale, becoming more steady. Her chest continues to rise and fall in a slow, rhythmic dance. “Again,” I encourage.
Her eyes snap open.
“Aperintia Veraclis,” she whispers, and this time, the hidden barrier flickers, revealing itself for a moment before dissolving, crumbling away like wet parchment.
“I did it,” she gasps, her face lighting up with pride. “I felt it—the magic inside me.”
“My magic,” I remind her. “Let’s go.”
I look for some towels to dry us off. The interior is small and sparsely furnished, and every creak of the floorboards under our feet echoes in the silence. Audrey stands frozen in the entryway, her eyes scanning the room with wariness, still grappling with what she just accomplished. The faint glow of the streetlamps outside flickers through the curtains, casting a hazy light across the room.
“Here,” I toss a ragged towel towards her I found in the bathroom.
“Thanks,” she says quietly. “This place…” her voice trails off, her unease evident as she wraps her arms around herself.
“It’s not much,” I admit, wiping the mud from my clothes. “But it’s safe. We won’t be found here with the barrier spell up.”
Her eyes snap to mine with concern.
“You mean the barrier spell that I just took down?”
“Relax,” I assure her. “The barrier reactivates as soon as we’re inside.” Relief flashes across her face.
I turn my attention to an old cabinet in the corner. I rummage desperately through it, shoving aside forgotten trinkets until my fingers close around my one last hope, its contents glowing faintly. I sigh deeply in relief—residual magic I can still harness. I grip the vial tightly, knowing I can only use it once.
“What’s that?” Audrey asks, her eyes fixed on the glowing vial in my hand.
I glance at her, tightening my grip on the glass.
“It’s a small reserve of my magic. Something I kept hidden for emergencies.”
“I’d say scary men abducting you for an ancient ritual undoubtedly qualifies as an emergency,” she replies dryly.
“I can only use it once. As soon as I do, it’s gone. It might last me twenty-four hours if I’m lucky, so I need to save it for when we absolutely need it.”
“When I woke up this morning, I didn’t even know magic existed,” she whispers hesitantly, looking dazed. “Now, I’ve got it coursing through me.”
“Not for long,” I assert, my voice unwavering. “I’ll be taking it back soon enough.”
Audrey stiffens, and her eyes break from their daze, flashing with resentment.
“Do you think I wanted this?” she snaps. “It’s not like I plotted to steal your magic. It was forcefully put in me by some freaky wizards.”
“Siphons,” I correct her harshly.
“What?”
“The freaky wizards you’re talking about are called Siphons. They’re witches who prey on the magic of others. They’re incredibly dangerous,” I explain, barely containing my irritation.
“Okay, Siphons,” she echoes, her annoyance clear. “Whatever they are, it’s not like I invited them to use me in their little ritual!”
“They think they can use some mortal vessel to store my magic until they need it,” I say under my breath.
“I’m sorry. Are you…are you referring to me?” Her voice rises in disbelief with rage.
“That’s what you are,” I reply bluntly. “Something weak to keep my magic safe until they need it.”
“Weak,” she echoes angrily. “I’m just a weak mortal that houses your magic. You probably would’ve abandoned me to those ‘Siphons’” —she emphasizes the term with exaggerated air quotes— “if it weren’t for the fact that your magic is now tied to me.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m no hero,” I reply, my words cold as ice. “I wouldn’t risk my life for a stranger.” It’s a lie, but it’s a lie I need her to believe. There’s no reason for her to like me; if anything, any affection would only further complicate matters. “I’m helping you because you have something of mine that I desperately need back. That’s all.”
“I’m a person—a human being,” she shoots back as her eyes narrow. I can see a storm brewing inside her. “And you? You expect me to trust an asshole like you? Ha! Not a chance.”
“You don’t have to trust me. You don’t even have to like me, but I’m the best chance you’ve got at surviving the Siphons. Like it or not.”
“Go to hell,” she snarls.
“I’m already there,” I snap back, matching her intensity.
Our gazes lock in a fierce standoff, and the weight of the daunting realization settles heavily on me: this infuriating woman, with her feist and defiance, is now my unwilling partner in the challenges that lie ahead. She stands firmly in the way of reclaiming my magic, a living barrier to the power I desperately need. I can’t shake the bitter annoyance gnawing at me at the thought of having to keep her safe—an obligation I never asked for, and one that feels like a chain shackling me to a fate I never wanted.
