I found myself leaning forward without realizing it. Syris never talked about Faerie or his family.
Hell, most days he acted like his past didn’t exist at all.
“The magic of Faerie was never meant to be controlled,” he said. “It’s wild. Emotional.Alive.” His fingers flexed against his knees. “That’s why most modern fae magic centers around illusions like glamour and perception. Those are easier to direct.”
His expression darkened. “But creation…” he murmured. “Creation is dangerous.”
The blade vibrated again. This time, everyone noticed, and Syris’s eyes sharpened instantly.
“My uncle believed my father shouldn’t have been king.” The words came out clipped now. “He thought rulership should belong to the person closest to the land itself. The one Faerie spoke to.”
His jaw tightened hard enough the muscle ticked.
“So he twisted what he learned.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“He bent the will of the land, forcing Faerie’s magic into shapes it was never supposed to take.” Syris’s voice roughened with disgust. “He distorted creatures. Twisted living things into weapons. Corrupted the magic itself by trying to seize power.”
Ternin lowered his eyes. Easton’s arms folded tighter across his chest. Even Manic had gone grimly silent.
“My father killed him,” Syris said flatly. “With his final breath.”
A long silence followed that, but Syris didn’t stop there.
“The problem was…” His fingers dragged through his hair. “The infection had already spread by then.”
His stare landed on the blade again like he wanted to smash it into dust.
“Members of the royal court had already begun experimenting with the magic too. Nobles. Council members. Those of us from the royal line.” His mouth twisted sharply. “Everyone wanted more power.”
The blade gave another small hum.
“This,” he said, pointing at it like it physically offended him, “was the beginning of Faerie’s collapse.”
Nobody interrupted him. Nobody even breathed too loudly.
“Faerie shrinking year after year?” His bitter laugh echoed. “That wasn’t natural. It was punishment. Punishment for our greed and deception.” His shoulders sagged heavily.
“The land retaliated against us for forcing our will onto its magic.”
The air around us felt stagnant and lifeless, and I stared at the blade differently now.
Before, it had been dangerous, but now it felt hungry and alive in the worst possible way. Like it wanted to consume.
Suddenly, I understood why the damn thing adapted every time I tested it. It behaved like the person who’d created it. Greedy. Never satisfied.
“How the fuck did something like this end up here?” I asked finally.
“He kept records,” he muttered, gripping his hands together tight. “A book.”
My head snapped up. “A book?”
“He claimed the land gave it to him.” Syris scoffed harshly. “But it wasn’t divine knowledge. It was just records of his experiments. Spellwork. Formulas. Notes on how to manipulate Faerie’s magic.”
Easton immediately stepped forward, asking the question I wanted to know most. “Where is it now?”
Syris’s face pinched tightly, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know.” That answer frustrated him almost as much as it frustrated me. “I don’t fucking know.”
