Caelan didn't seem to notice my discomfort, or perhaps he did but continued regardless.
“The queen absorbed a great deal of knowledge from delving into the vessel's mind, meticulously recording it all in a book. However, one particular form of magic captivated her most: a spell capable of tearing away another's magic, their soul.”
My nostrils flared as the realization struck—this knowledge, this magic, was known only in our world because ofthem. Anger ignited in my chest, but as his power surged in the air once more, I inhaled deeply, attempting to calm my racing heart.
“The queen had a new goal—to become immortal, to be a god among her peers. She worked tirelessly to rip my sister’s essence from that vessel, but no man, woman, mortal or otherwise, can steal our power. It is not something one can take. Only give.”
A chill ran through me at the knowledge that something this vast, this powerful could be given to someone, passed on. I shuddered internally, but waited for him to continue.
“The queen once again found a way to twist the spell she discovered, experimenting with it and creating a curse that would mimic immortality—a crude mockery of us.”
“What do you mean?” I hissed, the fabric on my skin feeling way too tight suddenly.
“Upon her death in battle, her soul, her magic, and consciousness transferred to her only living heir, her daughter, merging with her and making them one.”
My eyes widened, and the shock of what he had said settled into my bones like an icy chill.
“The queen slowly awoke within her heir, pushing her daughter back and claiming control of her body, her mind. However, unlike a mere vessel, her dark magic consumed the daughter, reducing her to nothing more than the bare essence of herself—her magic. Thus, Morgana was alive once more, her power stronger now, merged with that of her daughters.”
My blood boiled. Only a monster would sacrifice her own child, her own flesh and blood, to save herself. It was an act so unthinkable, so selfish, it was beyond cruel.
“This cycle continued for seven generations,” Caelan stated smoothly, his guttural voice devoid of emotion. A chill ran through me as I absorbed his words. The story, the details, finally clicking into place.
“So, what you're saying is...” I let my sentence hang, my breath catching in my throat.
I snatched up the crystal glass and downed its contents in a single gulp.
Caelan smiled sadly, “Morgana is not your mother, but your ancestor—seven generations back—who has been passing generation to generation through her bloodline to survive.”
But that would mean…
Caelan nodded again.
“Morgana may look like your mother, Xavier, but she is far from it. And far more dangerous, more powerful than you can imagine.”
What of my mother? Was she still in there? Still fighting?
Caelan looked somber again in my direction, “Your mother is no longer there consciously. Only her power, and her body remains.”
A hollow ache began in my chest, filling me with icy rage. It was as if someone ripped my stomach from me, leaving me empty. Nothing but a burning pain that was igniting in my veins, my chest as bile churned and rose in the back of my throat. My mother, who I had grieved, was nothing but a shell, her life, her memory now tainted in the eyes of my people. She didn’t do this… and the relief of that knowledge was crushing and yet so devastating that I felt I couldn’t breathe. It changed everything that I thought, and guilt stabbed my gut as it plummeted again. I had believed my mother evil, when all along…
Realization struck my spine like a blow, and I whipped my gaze toward the Fate. Vision blurred as tears burned behind my eyes. Did that mean I was next?
“The curse is contained to only female heirs.”
My chest deflated with my breath at not being victim to this curse, that Jaxon and I were safe, but my mind speared for one other–Lana.
Caelan sighed heavily.
“And if Lana dies?” I spoke the question out loud, but many more raced in my mind. If she died and we killed Morgana, it would be over. It would—
“Her soul will go dormant in the in-between until the next female heir is born within your bloodline.”
No.
Cursing, I roared, slamming my hands onto the table, needing to do something, anything. My palms gripped the smooth wood, the crystal pitcher and glasses falling to the floor and shattering at my feet. I threw the table as far as I could and watched it splinter on the marble, its pieces ricocheting into the air. As if passing some sort of ward, they were sucked into the abyss surrounding us.
Breathing heavily, I looked back down to find another table in front of me. The crystal reformed and full of liquid again at its center. I snarled again, knocking it over. The crystal flew and once again shattered onto the marble. The table followed closely behind.
