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“Why dusk?” I asked, glancing up at the cloudless sky. We’d arrived in the Otherworld late afternoon, which meant evening wasn’t too far off.
“It’s the magic hour,” Kit answered. “Sometimes called the witching hour. It marks the separation between light and dark and provides some of the most powerful harnessing magic.”
“How long until dusk?” Angela asked, rubbing her arms as she glanced back the way we’d come.
A trio of butterflies left the flowers and flitted around her legs, dancing up to her face. Smiling, she released her arms and held a finger out. One brave bug settled on it and proceeded to wash its face.
Or whatever bugs did.
Kit checked her watch, an analog that still functioned in this world. She was smart to bring it. “An hour at most. Enough time to decide.”
Lena raised an eyebrow. “Decide what?”
“Who will use the weapon,” Thane said, eyeing the base of the splashing waterfall.
“Not it.” I raised my hands and backed away.
“No offense, V, but you weren’t in consideration,” Kit drawled.
I glared at her, but I wasn’t mad and she knew it. Impulsive decisions wouldn’t go well with this weapon’s kind of magic. I’d go evil in a snap for a fresh slice of mushroom and truffle oil pizza.
“That leaves Thane, Lena, and Ivan,” I said, counting them off on my fingers.
“And Angela.” Thane nodded at the human.
I cast an apologetic grimace in her direction. “No offense, but your magic isn’t as strong as theirs.”
“No offense taken,” she said with a smile, still watching the butterfly groom itself on her finger.
I smiled back. We could use more of her humility in the world.
Once the daggers unite, the Last Hope will form a bond with whoever wields it. The stag bent his legs and settled onto the grass. Butterflies flitted closer, swirling between the tines of his antlers.
My smile drooped. “What does that mean, exactly?”
It means the weapon and its wielder will find it challenging to be apart, he replied with a note of caution.
I eyed my friends, trying to decide who was best suited for this job. “Does it come apart again? Or can we destroy the whole thing?”
That is unknown. Abaddon’s Last Hope has never been created.
Lena cocked her head and frowned. “Then how do you know this much?”
The stag turned its starry-eyed gaze on her, making her fidget. Even while sitting, his gaze was almost level with hers. When necromancers forged the daggers, the Last Hope was their ultimate purpose. But no necromancer could harness enough magic to create such an object.
Lena’s frown deepened. “I don’t get it. Why does anyone expect the daggers to turn into this super weapon if they couldn’t do it? Sounds like a myth.”
My thoughts drifted back to the little I knew of the daggers, but my memories were murky. A lot had happened since then. Necromancers had created the daggers in the dark ages, but they were stolen and disappeared for centuries, lost to the world until William brought them back into play.
They made a pact with a demon and imbued the daggers with its demonic magic. When combined with an angel’s holy magic, the weapon will form. It contradicts nature’s two most basic essences. An abomination.
I shuddered. I had definitely forgotten about that detail involving the demon.
“I’m surprised William didn’t try to combine them,” Thane said.
Very few know the original intent of the daggers, the stag explained. That knowledge was lost to time.
Except to the stag, angels, and Kit of course. William had gone after angels, but we assumed it was for creating Risen en masse. Maybe we were wrong. “Unless that’s what he was trying to do by kidnapping and torturing angels.”
