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I turn the knob, ignoring my men. Praying I’m not making a mistake.
The door peels back to reveal a strange device standing in the massive room’s center. Large, boxy machines like bulky server towers flank metal pincers generating a magic orb between them. The orb looks like a miniature black hole, perfectly black, encircled by a halo of white-gold light thin as a single hair.
My dark magic vibrates inside of me, answering the call of the magical orb, acknowledging it in a way that feels unnatural, and yet like a puzzle piece sliding into an empty spot.
I know what it is deep down, even if it seems impossible. The power source. It’s real?
This is the power source. It has to be.
The boastful Blood Mage had told the truth to his dancefloor partner. I can feel the energy given off by the orb, a hyper-concentrated ball of dark magic. I can’t say for certain how far its signal reaches, but standing so close its overwhelming power suggests a radius to encompass the country. Maybe the continent. Or even the world.
“Wow.”
“What the fuck is that?” asks Max.
I look up into his eyes and see the orb’s reflection in his gaze. “The source of the dark magic.”
“Just like the Blood Mage said.” Max looks as shocked as I feel.
“The what now?” asks Braxton, his expression confused.
But before we can answer, Orson says, “Holy fuck!”
My head spins to him. He’s staring at one area, eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost.
“Wh–?” I follow his gaze to see a man chained against a wall. A man I’d recognize anywhere. “Simon!” I cry, my heart aching with relief.
Stumbling over loosely coiled cables that cover the floor, I hurry to my brother, joy and relief rushing through me as I fight back tears. He’s chained up, wrists clamped and hoisted overhead, ankles fettered with chains bolted into the brick wall. He’s beaten and bloody, his clothes tattered, his face pale and slick with cold sweat. But he’s alive. His chest rising and falling like my hope these past few weeks.
My men are suddenly there behind me as I stare, trying to remember how to breathe. How to move. Tears spill down my cheeks, even though I know it’s not yet time for them to fall. We need to free my brother and get as far from here as we can.
Orson gives the chains a tug. Then he grabs hold of them, grunts, and pulls, but he can’t free them from the wall. Max and Braxton come to his aid, but even working together, my brother remains imprisoned.
Put away the tears. Focus. Free him. Almost instinctively, my hands glow silver with magic, and I pry the links open with my fingers one by one. My magic courses through me like adrenaline. My brain still seems unable to process what my heart has accepted so quickly.
Simon falls into my arms. “Simon?”
There’s no response.
I squeeze him tighter, shaking his bony frame. “Simon, wake up. It’s me. You’re safe.”
There’s no movement.
Desperate, I shake him even harder and raise my voice, if only by a little. “It’s Asha! Your sister. Your pack. I’m here!”
He stirs. His head lifts. It seems to take his eyes forever to open, and then they don’t seem to focus on anything at all.
“Simon, it’s Asha. It’s your sister. I’m here. You’re safe now.”
His gaze focuses on me. “Asha?” But I’m still not sure he’s seeing me.
I nod, tears gathering in my eyes.
“No, this is a trick,” he whispers, as if to himself.
My heart shatters and a sob builds in the back of my throat. “It’s not. I’m here. I promise.”
“You’re dead. Everyone’s dead.” A shudder rolls through his body.
