Crowned (Beholder #4)(38)

When the haze cleared away, the executioner was left standing alone on the meadow. The younger Kila Kitu had transported away. I stepped in for a closer look. Sure enough, the executioner now held only the blade of the Sword of Theodora.

I turned to the present-day version of Kila Kitu. “You only took the Sword’s hilt. Is that because the executioner held onto the blade?” Such things often happened with transport spells. If one part of an object was outside the sphere of the spell, it would get left behind. When it was a thing that got split into pieces, that wasn’t so terrible. It was only when human beings tried to join a transport in process that things got truly ugly.

“Yes, I was able to leave with the hilt. And my having it is what brought you to me.”

“And now you wish to keep your promise to your Elea.” I looked down at the ghostly version of my body. More blood dripped from my fingertips. Spots appeared in my vision. “And will you help me?”

“I do not yet know if you are worthy,” answered Kila Kitu.

My back teeth locked with frustration. Why didn’t Kila Kitu simply give me the hilt? Still, he hadn’t said he wouldn’t do so, only that he was unsure. There was still time to convince him, and I could be rather compelling when necessary.

In the scene before us, the Sire lifted the body of Not-Viktor. Meanwhile, the Lady did the same with Not-Elea. After that, the deities carried their burdens toward the nearest gateway. All the while, the executioner watched on silently.

My chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. The vision before me seemed too terrible to be real. Not-Elea and Not-Viktor were gone. This was like witnessing my own death.

The Sire and Lady set the lifeless bodies onto the thresholds of two nearby gateways. Instantly, the corpses of Not-Elea and Not-Viktor seemed to come to life once more. The pair convulsed on the threshold, their eyes wild and unseeing. Their Necromancer magick poured into their casting hands, making the bones there light up blue. It was something I’d done a thousand times.

Blue light arced from the dead mages’ palms, flowing directly into the gateway stones. In the sky, the Martyr’s Comet flared a brighter shade of red, casting a crimson glow over the scene. I’d read that the comet bathed the world in red light before it disappeared. Now, I understood why that was so important.

The blue power of the Necromancers mixed with the red energy from the comet, creating a violet colored brightness.

Hybrid magick.

These combined purple lights spread from one gateway to the next, until all the arches blazed with violet light. The long cracks in the earth sealed up before my eyes. The bodies of Not-Elea and Not-Viktor shone with purple light as well.

Then the comet disappeared from the night sky. The brightness that had illuminated Not-Elea and Not-Viktor faded too. As the light left the corpses, the bodies turned more translucent and ghost-like. Within a few seconds, they were completely gone.

For a long moment, the Sire and Lady stared at the spots where the bodies had recently been. The Sire was the first to break the quiet. “I don’t like this obsession with hybrid magick. It gets worse with every Elea.”

The Lady snapped her fingers. “I have it. Perhaps we should keep them apart next time. If they don’t know about each other, they can not work as a team.”

The Sire shook his head. “Those two always found each other if they’re in the mortal realm, no matter where we placed them. It’s like how souls always found us, even before there were gateways.”

“In that case, we shall raise the next Viktor with us in the Eternal Realms. We can then place the next Elea with the mortals. We can give her a godling to watch over her when the time comes. As long as she learns the ways of magick eventually, she’ll be a great conduit for the gateway.”

“Yes.” The Sire nodded. “A godling. Tristan would be a fine choice. No woman can resist him.”

“Agreed.”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. The Sire and Lady just admitted that I’d been entrusted to Tristan. Now, I realized the truth. My so-called sacrifice was why I’d been saddled with Tristan’s cursed so long ago. It was all so I’d learn Necromancy. After so many years of practice, my body would then automatically channel magick to the gateways.

And it was all for the Sire and Lady.

My blood heated with anger. Where once I had worshipped these two, now I felt nothing but white-hot rage.

The Sire tapped his chin. “Yes, when the time is right, Tristan can force the next Elea to learn how to access her power.”

“But there’s a flaw in my plan.” The Lady sighed. “If the Viktor is raised with us, then he could suss out ways to generate hybrid power using the knowledge of the Eternal Lands. We can’t keep him from every library and archive.”

“Even if he does learn the secrets of hybrid magick, I doubt a Viktor would become any serious threat. His kind can never take in enough energy.” The Sire’s voice lowered, and the reverberation shook the ground. “No, an Elea with hybrid power is a far worse worry. If she got the Sword…”

“That will never happen. We’ll plan this out perfectly.” The Lady clapped her hands. “I have it. You can cast a spell on what’s left of the Sword. Turn it into a possession to ensure things go smoothly, if all else fails.”

“It might not work, considering the Sword isn’t whole.” The Sire rubbed his chin. “Still, it would act as a failsafe.”