Immortal Reign(86)

Lucia’s hands fisted at her sides. “I can’t leave! Kyan’s taken my daughter and my magic . . . it’s weak right now. I don’t know if I can imprison him and the others.” Her voice was shaking. “I need to save my daughter, and I don’t know how. I came here to ask for your help.”

“I can be no help to you,” he replied grimly. “Not anymore.”

“But you have to be,” Jonas said, stepping forward. “We need answers. We came all this way. I don’t even know how it’s possible I’m here.”

“You don’t?” Timotheus chuckled. “Young man, you have so much magic within you right now I’m surprised it’s not bursting through your very skin.”

He could sense that? Jonas didn’t feel any different than ever before. “How do you know that?”

“I know that because I’ve placed a great deal of that magic within you myself.”

Jonas gaped up at him. “You what?”

“Some mortals over the centuries have proven themselves to be excellent carriers of magic. You are one of them.”

Lucia looked back and forth between the two of them. “What do you mean, he’s a carrier of magic?”

“Just like a rich mortal uses a bank to store his gold—and the same bank to borrow from,” Timotheus explained. “This is Jonas’s purpose and part of his destiny. I thought he would prove very useful, and he has.”

“Wait,” Jonas said. “What are you saying? You put most of this magic inside me? How did you do that?”

Timotheus gazed down at him patiently. “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you. And there’s no time to explain.”

“Make time,” he growled. “I already know the magic inside me is from Phaedra, when she died after saving my life, and Olivia, from the magic she used to heal me . . .”

“Yes. And that is how I knew you were a vessel. I gave you more magic in the last dream of yours I entered—as much as I could. You already know that whatever is shared in your unconscious mind can become reality.”

The golden blade. So Timotheus transferred magic into Jonas just as he’d given him the blade, which had traveled from one world to another.

He stared up at the massive form of Timotheus on the side of the tower in awe. The immortal looked like a man, walked and talked like a man.

But he was no man. He was a god.

All the immortals were gods.

For someone who had never believed in anyone or anything . . . this was a stunning realization.

“Why did you place this magic inside me?” Jonas began, more tentatively now. “Was it because you knew you’d become weak like this?”

“Partially,” Timotheus allowed.

“And now what? You take it back, recharge yourself, and you’re good as new?”

Timotheus gazed down at them for a moment, his lips pursed in thought. “No.”

“No?” Lucia said, stunned. “What do you mean no? I need you, Timotheus. There’s no one else who can help me. Kyan has kidnapped my daughter, and I am afraid I can’t save her!”

“I’ve seen your future, Lucia Damora,” Timotheus said then, evenly. “I’ve seen you standing next to the fire Kindred with the crystal orbs before you, your lips moving as you complete the ritual that will empower him and the other three like they’ve never been empowered before. And you do so of your own free will, just as you stood on the side of the cliff that night—that fateful night—ready to help him destroy the world. You are aligned with Kyan, and any excuses having to do with Lyssa are only that—excuses.”

Lucia’s face was red, her eyes full of fury. “How dare you say that to me? I am not aligned with Kyan. I hate him!”

Timotheus shrugged his shoulders. “We don’t change. We are who we are throughout our lives. We can try other paths, other roads, but it never works. I am no different. I was created to be a guardian to this place”—he waved his wrinkled hand toward the land beyond the city gates—“and to the mortal world. I tried . . . I did. And I’m still trying at this very moment, but I am failing, as all the others of my kind have failed. It is over, Lucia. The fight is over, and we have lost. We were never meant to win.”

Jonas had listened silently to what the immortal said and to Lucia’s reaction, and now he joined her in her outrage. “Is that it? You’re giving up, just like that?”

“You don’t know how long and how hard I’ve fought to reach this point,” Timotheus said wearily. “I thought there was a chance, and I did what I could to help. But in the end, none of this matters. What will be will be, and we must accept it.”

Jonas’s fury began to boil over. He moved closer to the tower as if he could reach into the image and pull Timotheus out. “That’s so typical of you, speaking in riddles, even now. Lucia needs your damn help to fix this bloody mess, and you’re up there on your . . . whatever magic that is that you’re on right now, looking down your nose at us. Detached from it all, safe and sound in your tall tower while we’re out here fighting, bleeding, and dying.”

“Fighting, bleeding, dying . . .” Timotheus shook his head. “It is the way of mortals. Past, present, and future. What little future is left, anyway. Everything ends. Nothing is truly immortal.”