Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(40)

You hesitate? The magic tsked. If you are not interested in our help, then . . . With every word the magic’s voice grew quieter and quieter, and Alfie felt his chance slipping away.

“Wait! No, wait! Please! I will free you, but—”

Be careful, boy. We are not known to bow to conditions and your time is running out.

Then Alfie could hear Luka’s heart beat as if he were in Luka’s very chest. The darkness pulsed with slow beats, the space between them stretching far too long.

No. Luka was not going to die. Alfie wouldn’t let it happen.

His voice breaking with fear, Alfie said, “Just promise me that Luka will come back as himself and he’ll be safe. He’ll be him. Make him strong enough to survive this. That’s all. If you swear to heal him and never hurt him, I will set you free.”

The magic curled about once more. Friendly and purring.

If you free us, the boy will be safe from harm, this we swear. We will not touch him. We will give him the strength to survive this. To him it will be but a nightmare long forgotten.

Alfie hesitated again, the darkness around him foreboding and endless. This was wrong. He shouldn’t do it. But then there was the whisper of a thousand voices booming from each direction.

Free us, free us, free us.

Beneath the chant was the slogging beat of Luka’s heart. He had to do it. There was no time. But this black magic was bound by rings of different shades of magic. This was stronger than any magic he’d seen. Something old. Something he knew he should not be touching.

Something that would save Luka’s life.

Alfie engaged his propio. He let his magic match the color of each ring, then he pushed his magic in and felt for a seam to tear it, to ruin it. Ring after ring of colored magic shattered in his hands like glass, the shards pricking his skin until his palms were slick with blood. To reach this state, this realm of magic, was a mental exercise, not a physical one. Why was he bleeding? This wasn’t right.

Then a ring of dark green magic stood before him. The shade and its sure, slow movement were as familiar to Alfie as his very own magic. Alfie froze where he stood. This was Paloma’s magic. It had to be. To unravel a stranger’s spellwork was one thing, but to do it to the magic of someone he knew, someone who’d helped raise him, was something entirely different. The thought alone felt like a betrayal. He didn’t know if he could go through with it. And if Paloma had caged this being, then it must be something too terrible for words. What would happen if he released it?

FREE US! FREE US! FREE US!

The shrieking dragged Alfie away from those thoughts. He had to save Luka. Paloma would have to forgive him for this. How could she not? If Luka’s life hung in the balance, then nothing else could matter.

With quivering hands, Alfie took Paloma’s magic in his hands and broke it. He closed his eyes as he did it, afraid to watch himself do such a thing. It felt worse than the others, as if he’d snapped the neck of an innocent animal. Alfie swallowed thickly and forced himself to move on to the next, and then the next.

Finally, there was only one ring left. A ring that shined silver, a color he’d never seen in all his years of watching magic flow through the air. He let his magic match its shade and threaded his magic into the ring. This one was strong. The ring of magic was so flawlessly drawn that he feared he wouldn’t be able to dispel it; he feared that he would be able to dispel it just as much.

He found it. The magic’s seam, a stitch for him to tug at. He began to pull on it with all his might. At first there was nothing, the strength of the magic unshakable, and Alfie knew it was over. He’d lost Luka, lost everything to this room again. But then the threads of magic begin to pull apart and burst, fraying at the edges. He pulled harder. The magic singed his fingers, fighting him. But he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t take the pain as a warning.

With a great shattering, the magic splintered and broke into countless pieces in his hands. It fell through his fingers in a fine silver sand.

As Alfie lost consciousness and fell tumbling into the darkness, he finally knew the word to describe this magic.

Hungry.





13


Freedom


With a glorious burst of energy, the tangle of magic bloomed into the room as the boy who’d released it fainted.

It twisted in the air, spreading its dark, smoky limbs this way and that, full of an exhilaration it could hardly contain. It had forgotten how large the world truly was.

The magic peered down at the boy passed out on the floor. One mere life had hung in the balance, and that was all it took to trick the fool into opening a cage that had locked it away for centuries.

A strangled sound of shock stole the magic’s attention. Before it on the ground sat a girl, her face tight with fear.

She shuffled away from the freed magic, her breaths ragged. The magic watched in amusement as she grabbed a dagger from her belt and threw it. The knife flew through its sinuous form without a sound. Her eyes widened in terror as she realized that she was truly powerless before it.

If the magic had a mouth, it would have stretched into a wide grin. But that was what it needed, wasn’t it? A mouth. A body. Its master could not return without one. Maybe this girl would do?

The magic circled the quivering girl like a scavenger would a corpse. How strange it was to finally be free, yet to still feel caged without its master. Without his command.