A Shield of Glass (A Shade of Vampire #49)(19)

I nodded slowly as he placed the book on the table and began flipping through its old, brownish pages. The words had been written in black ink, and I could see diagrams and sketches accompanying the swirly text, along with dark red blotches and charcoal smudges. The book had seen its share of usage back in the day, from what I could tell.

A few minutes went by before I saw his eyebrows come together in a pensive frown as his fingers lingered over a specific passage.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, nearly on the edge of my seat. I hoped we’d find a solution for our Oracles sooner rather than later.

“Not what we’re looking for, but something I think we should all be aware of,” Draven said, still reading. “Especially those of us who know about the pendant Azazel wears…”

The others stopped their search for information on young Druids and concealment spells and focused their attention on Draven. I held my breath as he explained.

“This is a tome of forbidden Druid spells. Magic so dark that it can be truly horrific and merciless, going against our very nature. I’ve been reading through this, and some of the formulas have dreadful consequences, making me feel ashamed that one of my own kind actually devised them,” he continued. “But there is one chapter in particular that rings a damning bell. It’s a spell… Well, not so much a spell as a curse, called ‘The Soul Fusion’.”

He looked at me for a brief moment, concern etched on his face, before he began reading the words out loud.

“The Soul Fusion was Asherak’s final so-called gift to the Druids. We, by our very nature, are creatures of good, our souls linked to Eritopia’s nature, our hearts dedicated to progress and growth, peace and harmony, our minds shaped toward culture and exploration of the unknown while remaining reverent of the world around us. Asherak of Pathos was, by all accounts, the first evil to walk among the Druids. His soul was rotten with envy and greed. He desired power and control. He was the darkest creature to ever exist in Eritopia. He was vanquished after he nearly destroyed the planets, and his name was lost in the annals of history, never to be mentioned again. His spells and notes were mostly burned and their ashes scattered in the wind, save for a single copy compressed in these tomes here, classified as forbidden magic. It was preserved purely for the purpose of reminding the Druids of the dangers of selfish acts of cruelty. A path which we must never walk again,” Draven said as he scanned the text.

“So there was someone even worse than Azazel?” Jovi concluded, an eyebrow raised.

“Or perhaps just as bad. Asherak burned everything in his path. Killed all those who opposed him. He nearly wiped out the Druids, many millennia ago. But, in the end, he was defeated by the Grand Temple Druids, who brought their powers together to take him down. We never speak his name, for there is fear that his evil and poison may rise again, like a ghost,” Draven replied. “During his reign of terror, Asherak devised a number of spells, most of them meant for torture, unimaginable pain, and slow death. But there was this one, ‘The Soul Fusion’, which was different. Asherak desired immortality over anything else. While Druids have extremely long lifespans, we do not live forever. The first part of the Soul Fusion was to remove the soul from the Druid’s body—his life force, his energy, his consciousness and power—and cram it into a cursed object designed to hold it until another body is offered. You see, the Grand Temple Druids defeated Asherak’s armies, but by the time they got to him in his fortress, he was already dead. Or at least, they thought he was, until they found the cursed object on the floor next to his body and realized what he’d done.”

The pieces were slowly starting to fall into place in my mind. A greedy, bloodthirsty, and power-hungry Druid had found the cursed object and used it to attain enough strength to corrupt and infect an entire solar system, which he’d once been sworn to protect.

“From what I am reading here, they hid the object and never spoke of it again,” Draven continued. “They passed it through the Master Druid circle, rulers of the twenty kingdoms of Eritopia. Only a Druid leading a kingdom had the willpower needed to hold onto such an object without letting its corruption into their soul. You see, the object emanated with Asherak’s power, his whispers tickling the ears of anyone who spent too much time around it, beckoning them to break the seal and finish the Soul Fusion.”

“The second part?” I replied, wondering whether Azazel could really be this foolish.

“The occupation of a new body. The curse cannot kick the spirit currently occupying the body out of it. But two souls can coexist, instead. They fuse, their powers combining, and thus, Asherak once again has access to Eritopia. It would take the sickest of minds to condone such a plan, but, looking at Azazel and how he’s been able to conquer the entire galaxy, how he’s always one step ahead of us, and how his power oozes out of every spell he does… One can only think the worst.”

“Oh, Draven, you can’t be serious,” Hansa sighed, unable to hide her dismay.

Draven lifted the book for us all to see the drawing of the cursed object Asherak had infused with his soul. My stomach churned as soon as I laid eyes on it, recognizing the loopy eight-form of a snake with red ruby eyes. It was an accurate depiction of the pendant Azazel wore, and it confirmed everything Draven had just said.

“I’m afraid I am,” he replied.

“I saw this on Azazel,” I exhaled sharply. “Phoenix saw it on an elder Master Druid in the past, before he saw Azazel wearing it. That is it… That’s the cursed object.”