Varyn
“Do you know what this is?” I huff, my breath coming in quick bursts as I watch Grey examine the dark object I’ve placed before him.
He lifts it carefully, turning it over in his hands, his brow furrowing with concern. “I think it’s a Wraithstone Chest.”
“No, it can’t be,” I insist, the words spilling out in a rush. “Those are ancient. The order of sorcerers that created them is long gone.”
“It’s…different,” he replies cautiously, his voice low. “It’s been modernized. But I’m telling you, it’s a Wraithstone Chest.”
“That’s not possible,” I retort, my panic rising like bile in my throat. “If it is…that means they’re back.”
“The Arcanists,” Grey murmurs, his gaze locking onto mine, disbelief etched across his face.
A chill runs through me, settling in my bones. “That would mean the Siphon is one of them.”
“I have to tell Malachi,” he says urgently, reaching for his phone. I thrust my hand out, stopping him in his tracks.
“Just wait,” I demand, my voice sharp. “I don’t want Malachi Varkon involved.”
“Varyn,” he starts, his tone careful, “it’s not Malachi’s fault.” My anger flares, fueled by memories that cut deep. “What happened to Beth—”
“Was because of a careless mistake,” I interrupt, the words bursting forth like a dam breaking. “And that mistake started when Malachi gave me his orders.”
“I have to tell him. You can’t fight the Arcanists by yourself, especially without your magic.” Audrey. If the Arcanists are back and the Siphon is one of them…
“Grey,” I say, my voice suddenly steady but filled with urgency. “I have to go. Now!”
I bolt from his apartment, fear tightening its grip around my chest. Audrey. She was right all along. I shouldn’t have left her alone and vulnerable. I was arrogant to think my boundary spell would hold against anything or anyone.
I race through the rain-slick streets in Grey’s car, ignoring every stop sign, my pulse pounding in my ears. If something happens to her… I force myself to halt the thought, knowing it would drown me in despair.
As I pull up to the house, the grim sight of the door wide open greets me, sending a cold rush of adrenaline through my veins. The rain falls lightly, creating a quiet drumming rhythm against the pavement, but all I hear is the frantic pounding of my heart. My combat instincts kick in as I jump out of the car, scanning the area for threats.
I move swiftly but cautiously toward the entrance, the chill of the air heightening my senses. The muted sounds of voices filter through the rain. I approach the doorway, staying low and keeping my body shielded from view as I look inside.
Audrey is just beyond the threshold, and I can see the two men moving toward her. My blood runs cold at the sight of her vulnerability. I take a deep breath, steadying myself.
Time slows as I evaluate the situation. I focus on their body language—arrogant, unguarded—and I know I can use that to my advantage. I lock eyes with Audrey, conveying a promise to protect her without saying a word.
In this moment, I prepare to act. They may think they have the upper hand, but they’re about to learn that underestimating me would be their biggest mistake. With determination building inside me, I ready myself to strike.
My pulse races as I burst through the doorway, adrenaline surging through me. Audrey backs up against the wall with her fists raised, eyes wide, while the two men stand too close for comfort. Their arrogance drips off them like the rain from my clothes.
I take a split second to assess their positions—both are muscular, but one is slightly taller, with a more intimidating presence. I can’t let them see me hesitate.
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” I say calmly, my voice cutting through the tension. The men turn, surprised, and that one moment is all I need. I launch myself forward.
The taller man reacts first, swinging a fist toward me. I duck under it, feeling the rush of air as his arm whips past and counter with a swift jab to his gut. He stumbles back, breathless, and I turn my attention to the other guy. He lunges at me, hands reaching for my throat, but I sidestep and grab his wrist, twisting it behind his back.
“Stay down!” I growl, pushing him to the ground hard, shoving my knee into his back. The other man recovers quickly, lunging at me again. I pivot just in time, and his momentum sends him crashing into the coffee table, sending shards of glass everywhere.
I barely have time to catch my breath before the first man is back on his feet, fury riddling his face. He throws a wild punch, but I’m ready. I block it, then counter with a knee to his stomach. He gasps, doubling over, and I use the opportunity to land a punch to his jaw.
He collapses, and I glance at Audrey, expecting fear—but there’s only fierce determination in her eyes. She shifts her gaze to the second man, now struggling to his feet. Without hesitation, she extends her hands, and my magic bursts from her fingertips, sending him crashing to the floor like a fallen tree.
Her eyes are wide in astonishment at the use of my magic, and her face pales at the power that just left her body.
Both men are down.
“He’s not here,” she says, her voice quaking slightly and replacing her strong determination.
“Who?” I ask, forcing myself to stay focused.
“The Siphon,” she whispers, a flicker of panic creeping in. “The one who performed the ritual.” Her eyes dart around the room as if trying to conjure his presence. “He’s not here,” she repeats, her voice trembling.
“Audrey,” I say, steadying my tone.
“He’s not here,” she insists, her breath quickening, caught in a loop of disbelief.
“Audrey,” I say more firmly, locking my gaze with hers until her eyes finally meet mine. “We need to leave. Now.”
“Leave?” Confusion and fear knot her brow.
“Yes. This place is no longer safe,” I say, urgency driving me.
“Where will we go?” she asks.
“Somewhere safe,” I reply, taking her hand and leading her to the car. I open the door, urging her inside. She sits down but doesn’t let go of my hand, anchoring herself to me. I take a deep breath, gathering my resolve. Gently, I place her hand in her lap and reach for her seatbelt. Before I can close the door, she grabs my arm.
“Where are you going?” she pleads, her blue eyes a mix of fear and desperation.
“I’ll be right back.” I try to sound reassuring, but inside, I’m anything but calm.
“Where are you going?” She tugs at my arm again, a sense of anxiety in her voice.
“I can’t leave those two alive. They can’t know where we are or where we’re headed. I have to handle this.”
Her expression shifts to something softer, almost resigned. “Oh,” she whispers, releasing my grip. Did I scare her?
“Stay in the car. No matter what happens.” My tone is firm, but concern twists in my gut.
“I won’t,” she promises.
I’m doing what needs to be done. I’d go further if it meant ensuring her safety and protecting my magic.
As I navigate the rain-slick streets, the silence is suffocating. Audrey doesn’t look at me, her mind likely racing with thoughts of what just happened. I pull into the parking garage at Grey’s safe house.
“Where are we?” she finally asks, breaking the heavy silence.
“A friend’s place,” I reply, keeping my tone even.
“You have friends?” she asks, a hint of disbelief coloring her words.
“Just follow me.”
At Grey’s, we’ll have access to the magic we need. With his expertise as a historian, we’ll inch closer to reclaiming my magic and helping Audrey return to the life she once knew, free from the foes that have bound us together. But this is merely the prelude to a much larger conflict, and I feel neither of us will walk away from this unscathed.
