Page 161 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

The solution honestly feels too simple to me. Too obvious to work. But that’s often how magic works. Sometimes you spend way too much time looking for zebras when you can get perfectly well trampled by horses instead.

Then again, it could just be that I know Damien would absolutely lose his shit if he heard the insane idea we’ve come up with.

“It boils down to the same concept as the one that keeps me trapped in his power. In order to be rid of the subjugation, we must overwrite it,” Aemon says.

“And the way we plan on doing that is by placing another subjugation working on me,” I say.

“Yes,” he says.

“Your subjugation working,” I say.

“Well—our subjugation working. We’re likely not able to usurp his subjugation as individuals. Because we would need to assert enough power to override his. But as we know, three is a number which exponentiates the effects of any working.”

I know I can trust Wren and Bastion with this plan. I don’t quite trust Aemon with that yet. Not at all.

“Couldn’t we do it with Damien instead of you? He has some of my magic now,” I say.

“He has your magic, which means it won’t overwrite a working that subjugates your magic.” Bastion says. “In fact, it could destabilize the working and cause a nasty rebound.”

I rub at my temples. “I don’t like this,” I say. “And it’s hurting my head. Won’t this just put me at your beck and call, magically speaking? I trust you guys, but what’s to stop you from taking all my magic if we have a disagreement?”

“We would have to all agree and have the same intention for that to happen.”

“It just feels invasive,” I say.

“It would only be in place so long as the other subjugation is in place, once we figure out how to do away with the other problem, we can undo this three-fold subjugation,” Bastion says.

“That’s a mighty big ‘if.’” I sigh. “And what if the three of you together still isn’t enough?”

“It feels like you’re trying to poke holes in this,” Aemon grumbles.

“No, I’m making sure there are no holes. What happens if the spell rebounds anyway?” I ask.

Bastion pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s right. It’s risky. A spell with this much power rebounding could be catastrophic. It could do anything from making The Abberant’s subjugation take immediate hold to killing her,” he says. “We need to go back to the drawing board.”

Wren shifts a little bit between her feet. “I don’t know. I think we’re being too pessimistic. I think we need to try,” she says.

“What is wrong with you today?” Bastion sneers. “First you were cracking jokes about her death, now you seem fully willing to risk her actual death.”

“That’s not what it is,” I say, meeting Wren’s eyes. “You saw something, didn’t you?”

Wren looks at Aemon and the familiar shakes his head, drawing a path over his creasing brow with his middle fingers.

“Okay. New fucking rule,” I say, my frustration peaking. “No more withholding information. No more secrets. No more ‘protecting me’ from the truth.”

“Agreed,” Bastion says, crossing his arms.

“What did you see, Wren?” I ask.

She swallows and looks down at her feet, having the grace to at least look a little guilty.

“It was when we were trying to revive you a few nights ago,” she said. “After Aemon’s first shock to your body, when I was breathing for you. I saw you at the age you’re at now. With black hair. Weak, gathered in Damien’s arms.”

“Dead?” I asked.

“Not sure,” she says. “But you were somewhere unfamiliar.”

“There’s no way to know if that happens because of what we have planned here,” Bastion says. “Sometimes your visions came to pass because of the attempts made to prevent them.”