Page 40 of Demon Touched

Keros and a few of his friends snicker as Efram apologizes, blushing.

“Right,” Baxir says, continuing his lesson as he explains how we can use lightning to destroy runic sequences. I’m handed a shadow shield, the runes around the edge creating a veil of shadow which allows it to absorb and dissipate lightning strikes. I’ve seen them in action often enough on the plains and much closer up in Infernum itself.

“If your lightning is precise enough, you can break the protections cast by the runes without triggering them,” Baxir says. “Sometimes it’s more effective than others, but when it works, it’s damn useful.”

It makes sense, I guess. Regular fire isn’t enough to obliterate Cyrax runes. Rift runes activate when you burn them, rather than just being destroyed. But then, that’s what they’re designed to do. Just as the runes on the shield in my hands are designed to create a shadow layer that can bear the brunt of a lightning bolt. Not all runes are about protection, though. Some are for speed and others for precision; the arrowhead Filippa is holding is engraved at the tip with a spell for stealth. If I want to remove the shield’s ability to weather lightning, I’d need to know which runes to target.

But I abruptly realize this is a connection only I am making. Because unlike everyone else here, I can read Cyrax.

So when we start practicing searing away the power of the runes, I have an excellent starting point. While the other fledglings frown and squint at the runes, picking them at random and hoping for results, I just have to search my shield for the relevant markings: the ones that deal with the shadow’s ability to move and redistribute power.

When I hover my palm above the metal, calling forth my lightning, it feels like there’s a thread running between my magic and the runes, guiding the burning light along the exact shape of the Cyrax marking. It’s as if my understanding of the rune—my ability to read it—makes my magic able to read it too, a mutual understanding that allows it to pick the Cyrax apart like a knot in a string.

When I’m done, I wedge the shield into the ground and take a few steps back. Then I hit it with my lightning, a crackling bolt of it striking at the center. Rather than shadows rising up and dissipating the lightning power, the shield cracks right through the middle, rending in two with an impressive snap. A surge of triumph crests through me.

“Surprisingly not terrible, Fledgling Illidore!” Baxir shouts, and most of the other fledglings stop what they’re doing to watch the instructor stride over to me. “Maybe we’ll make a soldier of you after all.”

I blink at the rare praise and try not to fidget as he bends down to scrutinize the broken shield.

“Very precise work,” he says, then straightens up with a curious look in his eye. “You only took off some of the runes. Why those?”

Right. Why those? Definitely not because I can read Cyrax. That would be very difficult to explain.

I’d not anticipated this working so well on my first go, and now I’ve singled myself out. But I think fast.

“I trusted my gut,” I say, with a shrug I hope looks nonchalant. “It felt like my foresight was guiding me toward those particular runes.”

Baxir scrubs a hand through his thick, red beard. “Interesting. Well, your foresight seems to have a particular knack for this. Let’s hope you get to use it in the trials,” he says, then glances at the ridges between my shoulders. “You certainly can’t rely on your flying skills.”

I nod weakly as he turns to bark across the field. “What are the rest of you looking at? Stop standing around like gormless buffoons and get to work!”

As most of the fledglings scramble to start practicing again, I feel someone watching me. Scanning the field, my eyes fall on Keros, his hate-filled gaze pointed firmly in my direction. He’s kept his distance since I beat him in our sparring match, but that just makes me warier. It’s not the first time I’ve caught him looking at me, like he’s scheming up something very unpleasant.

Whatever it is, I just hope my foresight can warn me about that when the time comes.

Chapter 13

Syrus

“You’ve lost your mind,” Viz says, tossing down a scroll of parchment for emphasis. “You got it stuck one time when you were in Leah’s head and just left it there.” He gestures to his silver hair. “There’s nothing going on up there now. You’re just walking around, empty.”

“Yes, Viz, I think you’ve made your point,” I say, with enough of an edge to my tone to make him snap his mouth shut, cutting off whatever he was about to say. “But I really have thought this through. I know it’s drastic⁠—”

“Drastic?” Viz interrupts, not able to contain himself for more than a few seconds. “You might just start a damn war, Syrus!”

“Aren’t we already at war?” I say, just to be annoying.

“I’m trying to avert a civil war. And might I remind you it’s not been that long since you nearly triggered the last one.”

“Well then, we know how to defuse the situation if it comes to that.”

I rise from the table, moving to the tapestry hanging on the far wall of the dining room. It shows the old story about Aphelion and Hekate, the Son of the Light and Daughter of the Dark. I remember telling Leah the tale as we walked through the streets of Malice, her skeptical voice cutting through the story with its usual, beautiful sharpness.

It feels like a lifetime ago, but I’m not willing to accept that that life—the one I shared with her—is over. It can’t be. I won’t let it be. Even if it means taking some…unusual steps.

Last time we spoke, she pointed out that there was nothing I could do about the wretched maggot who attacked her in Aradis—whoever they are. And she was right. What can I do against the threats she’s facing? I can guide her, maybe channel some of my power through her, but short of taking control of her and forcing her to walk out of Aradis one step at a time, my hands are mostly tied.

And I won’t do that. I may be a desperate fool, but I know enough to realize I would lose her forever if I even tried. Not to mention that the ephilium are already suspicious of her, and I’d probably only end up putting her in more danger.