The Sorcery Code (The Sorcery Code #1)(35)

Blaise’s creation, however, was not a myth. She—it—was an artificially created monster with potentially unlimited powers. For all they knew, it could destroy the world and every human being in it.

And Blaise was attracted to it. The thought made Augusta so sick she thought she might throw up.

No. She couldn’t allow this to happen. She had to do something. Grabbing Lenard’s scrolls, Augusta tucked them in her bag. Then, consumed by rage and fear, she channeled her emotions into a cleansing fire spell—and let it loose in the room.





Chapter 22: Blaise


Flying back home, Blaise tried to convince himself that he’d done the right thing—that Gala needed to see the world on her own, to experience everything she wanted. The fact that he already missed her was not a good reason to limit her freedom.

His trip back was much faster than his flight to the village. He’d purposefully gone slower before, giving Gala a chance to see Turingrad, but now there was no reason to linger. He knew this town like the back of his hand, and there were far too many unpleasant memories associated with this view—especially that of the gloomy silhouette of the Tower.

Passing by the Town Square, he remembered how Esther would yell at him for swimming in the fountain as a child. As a boy, he had enjoyed diving for the coins, and she had always scolded him, saying that it was inappropriate for a sorcerer’s son to be swimming in the dirty fountain water.

Thinking of Esther and watching the people below, he reflected on what he had tried to do for them. He had wanted to give them the power to do magic, to improve their lives. And instead, he’d ended up creating something miraculous—a beautiful, intelligent woman who was as far removed from an inanimate object as anything he could imagine. He might have failed in his original task, but he couldn’t regret having Gala here. Knowing her had already brightened his life immeasurably. For the first time since Louie’s death, Blaise felt some measure of excitement—happiness, even.

Being without her for the next few days would be a challenge. He needed to find something to do to occupy his mind, Blaise decided.

One thing that occurred to him was the challenge of figuring out why Gala couldn’t do magic. By all rights, as an intelligence born in the Spell Realm, she should have the ability to do magic directly, without relying on all the spells and conventions that sorcerers used. It should be as natural to her as breathing—and yet it didn’t seem to be, for now at least.

What would happen if a regular human mind ended up in the Spell Realm? The crazy idea startled Blaise with its simplicity. Would that mind die immediately—or would it be able to return to the Physical Realm, perhaps imbued with new powers and abilities?

The more he thought about it, the more exciting the idea seemed. The way Gala had described the Spell Realm had been wonderful, and it would be amazing if a person—if he himself—could see it (or experience it using whatever sense passed for sight in that place).

Would it be insane for him to try to go there? To enter the Spell Realm himself? Most people would think so, he knew, but most people lacked real vision, rarely taking the kind of risks that led to true greatness.

What would happen if he did succeed in entering the Spell Realm? Would he gain the kind of powers he suspected Gala might have? If so, he would be unstoppable—the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived. He would be Gala’s equal, and if she still didn’t master magic by then, he could even teach her how to harness her inherent abilities. He would be able to do what he’d only dreamed of so far: implement real change, real improvement in the world.

He would be a legend, like Lenard the Great.

Taking a deep breath, Blaise told himself to calm down. This was all great in theory, but he had no idea if this would be feasible or safe in practice. He would have to be careful and methodical in his approach.

After all, he now had something—or rather, someone—very important to live for.



*



Landing next to his house, Blaise stared in shock at the red chaise sitting in front of his door.

A very familiar chaise—one that had been the prototype for them all.

Augusta’s chaise.

And it was in front of his house.

What was his former fiancée doing here? Blaise felt his heartbeat quickening and his chest tightening with a mixture of anger and anxiety. Why did she come here today of all days?

Mentally bracing himself, he opened the door and entered the house.

She was walking down the stairs as he entered the large entrance hall. At the sight of her, Blaise felt the familiar sharp ache. She was as stunning as he remembered, her dark brown hair smooth and piled on top of her head, her amber-colored eyes like ancient coins. He couldn’t help comparing her darkly sensual looks to Gala’s pale, otherworldly beauty. When Augusta smiled, she often looked mischievous, but the expression on her face now was that of shock and fear.

“What have you done?” she whispered, staring at him. “Blaise, what have you done?”

Blaise felt his blood turning to ice. Of all the people out there, Augusta was one of the few who could’ve made sense of his notes so quickly. “What are you doing here?” he asked, stalling for time. Perhaps he was wrong; perhaps she didn’t know everything.

“I came by to check on you.” Her voice shook slightly. “I wanted to see if you were all right. But you’re not, are you? You’ve gone completely insane—”