Immortal Reign(20)

“You think too much, Jonas Agallon.”

Jonas let out a nervous snort of laughter. “No one’s ever accused me of that before.”

A small smile touched Timotheus’s lips. “You are brave. You are strong. And you are worthy of this.”

From the folds of his robe, Timotheus drew out an object. It was a golden dagger, beautiful, unlike anything Jonas had ever seen in his life. The blade was covered in etchings. Symbols—some of which appeared to be the symbols for elemental magic.

Something shimmered from the blade. Jonas couldn’t see it exactly, but he could sense it.

Magic. But not just any magic—ancient magic.

Timotheus placed the heavy golden hilt in his hand. Jonas inhaled sharply as a cool shiver of that ancient magic traveled up his arm.

“What is this?” he managed to ask.

“A dagger,” Timotheus said simply.

“I can see that much. But what kind of dagger? What does it do?”

“It can kill.”

Jonas glared at the immortal. “Just speak plainly to me for once, would you?”

Timotheus’s smile grew, but his eyes remained deadly serious. “This dagger has been wielded by several immortals over millennia. It contains magic that can enslave and control minds and wills. It can kill an immortal. It can absorb magic. And it can destroy magic.”

“Destroy magic?” Jonas frowned, his gaze locked upon the golden blade. The sunlight caught the metal and cast a prism of colors down to the grassy ground. “Lucia said the Kindred couldn’t be destroyed. Even if I had the chance to get close enough to shove this into Kyan’s chest, all I’d be doing is murdering Nic.”

Timotheus’s expression grew strained. “I can’t tell you exactly what you need to do.”

Frustration burned in Jonas’s chest. “Why not?”

“That’s not how it works. My direct involvement—beyond what I’ve already done—is not allowed. I am a Watcher. I watch. It’s all I’m permitted to do. To say any more is literally impossible for me. But hear me, Jonas Agallon. Lucia is and always will be the key to all of this. Kyan still needs her.”

Jonas shook his head. “Lucia won’t help him. She’s different now. She’ll do anything to stop him.”

Timotheus’s jaw tensed, his gaze fixed upon the dagger. “This weapon can stop her as well, even at her most powerful.”

Jonas blinked, understanding all too well what the immortal meant.

“I won’t kill Lucia,” he growled.

“I’ve seen her die, Jonas. I’ve seen a precise moment in the future with this very blade in her chest and you standing over her.” His expression shuttered. “I’ve said too much already. This is over. The remainder of my magic is nearly gone, and I have no more to spare on entering the dreams of mortals. You must go forth alone now.”

“Wait, no.” Panic rose in Jonas’s chest. “You need to tell me more. You can’t stop now!”

Timotheus glanced to the right of the colorful meadow, seemingly at nothing at all. “You’re needed elsewhere.”

Jonas frowned. “What? What are you—?”

The expansive field of green shattered, falling away like shards of glass. Jonas realized someone was shaking him awake. He opened his eyes to see Taran Ranus staring down at him.

“Jonas, wake up,” he urged.

“What is it?”

“Felix is going to be executed.”

The fogginess of sleep left him in a rush. “When?”

“Now.”

Jonas sat up so quickly that a wave of dizziness hit him. He noticed something cold and heavy in his hand, and he looked down with shock to see that he held the very same golden dagger that Timotheus had given him in the dream.

But . . . how?

He let go of it as if it had been covered in spiders. The weapon lay there on the blanket, shimmering in the meager light of the room.

“Hurry,” Taran barked as he pulled on a shirt.

For a moment, Jonas’s mind went completely blank, as if he couldn’t make a decision or move or rationalize what had happened.

But then he realized what Taran had said. His friend was in danger.

Nothing else mattered right now.

Jonas grabbed the strange new dagger, thrust it into the empty holder on his belt, and joined Taran as they left the small room the empress had provided for them during their stay at the compound.

“Thought you hated Felix,” Jonas said as they rushed toward the prison.

“Only in the beginning. He’s a friend now, just like you.”

“How did you hear of this?”

Taran frowned deeply. “I heard voices . . . in the air. Guards discussing doing away with a difficult prisoner. They were loud enough to wake me.”

Jonas had no reply to this. He knew the air Kindred was inside Taran now, just as the water Kindred was within Cleo, but Taran had barely spoken of it since Jonas’s arrival.

They arrived at a small dusty clearing just outside the compound’s prison area just as guards dragged Felix out in chains. A small crowd of guards and servants had gathered to watch as Felix was forced to his knees, his head shoved down onto a chopping block.

Jonas pushed through the crowd just as the executioner raised his ax.