She could tell he had moved over to the mirror, that same one that kept drawing Nox’s attention. Could vaguely make out his shape as he pulled something from his belt.
What was not vague, what was unmistakable, in fact, was the hiss of pain and sudden scent of copper as Lord Leviathan Church sliced his hand open and pressed it to the mirror’s surface.
In the shadows, Tenny made a soft noise, a strangled sort of gasp, and Kit reached over, grasping for her hand in the darkness.
Glowing red symbols appeared then quickly faded as, with a low rumble, the mirrormoved. Lord Church reached into the wall, into some sort of hidden compartment that had just been revealed.
Kit couldn’t see what was held within, could only focus her gaze on the back of the lord paramount’s head as he fussed with something inside. Could only try to keep the frost she felt icing through her veins at bay, the rage that threatened to spill out in the face of such blatant blood magic.
She saw the faintest glint of whatever the lord held in his hands as he turned—something small enough to fit in his still-bleeding palm. The mirror slid back into position, as if it had never moved in the first place. As if the lord had never bled upon it. Perfectly ordinary once more.
Lord Church pulled a black handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his hand, giving the room one more look before he strode back out the door.
The silence he left behind in the room was thunderous.
Kit only realized she was still holding her breath when Nox finally let their shadows recede and she fell back into the room with a gasp.
Tenny was a ghost. Pale, trembling.
“Tenny...” Kit started, but the girl just shook her head.
“What was that? Who is he?” The words were a brittle whisper.
“Did either of you see what he took? What was in there?” Nox asked.
Kit shook her head. Tenny didn’t move at all. She just stared at the mirror, disbelief carving through her face. And something deeper too, something sadder. Like she was suddenly all too aware that her own father was, in reality, a stranger.
Not just a stranger.
Sanguinagi.
Kit wanted to ask questions. Wanted answers, wanted to see if Tenny’s blood could open that compartment right back up, if they could see what else lay inside.
But Tenny looked like she was about thirty seconds away from fainting entirely, and this had all been too much. So Kit folded the piece of parchment she was still clutching into quarters and slid it into her pocket.
Later, she thought. Later, they would find more answers. They would figure out what all this meant. What Lord Church was really up to. What secrets hissanguinagisafe held.
Later, Kit would ask Tenny if she understood the last part of what was written on the page in her pocket. The final three lines, each one underscored in red:
The son must rise.
Let the son rise.
The son will rise.
46
DEEP MAGIC
CEDRIC
The deeper Cedricand Elyria walked into Elderglade, the lighter the air felt. Magic was everywhere here—ambient, alive. It clung to the bark of ancient trees, flickered in the dust motes floating through shafts of sunlight. It filled Cedric’s lungs and crawled over his skin. Appraising. Curious. Friendly.
As if the forest itself recognized him.
Neither of them had spoken much since crossing the threshold—neither aloud nor in their minds. They were both too busy taking in the wondrous scene around them, thin vines of merryleaf growing out of the ground, winding around more of those silver-barked tree trunks, birds chirping above them. Rainbow light filtered through leaves larger than Cedric’s head, translucent and veined likestained glass, painting the ground with a kaleidoscope of color.
Bowed trees lined either side of the leaf-lined path before them, branches growing toward each other, just as they had to create the archway they walked through. It gave the effect of a long corridor forging through the forest.
