Page 44 of An Archer's Redemption

“How does it feel? I meanthey—how do they feel?Your eyes? How do your eyes feel?” he stammered.

I reached up with a tentative finger and rubbed one eye again, then shrugged. “They don’tfeelany different. I didn’t even know they were glowing, or whatever you’d call this.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure everyone else will notice. It is rather, um, alarming, especially when you don’t know the swirly, glowing magic man is going to glare at you.”

I turned, my lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Did you just make fun of me? In my time of need?”

“I wouldneverdo such a thing,” Fergus said before breaking out into a wide grin. “But seriously, we will need to figure out what’s going on, if there are side effects or other considerations. Before we do, though, let’s get you to Atikus. I fear we may not have him much longer.”

All humor fell away. “He’s that bad?”

“I don’t think he’s in physical pain, but for one so steeped in magic to have that connection ripped away, well, it would make anyone question their will to live. Seeing you might help—butDeclan, he’s not the man you knew when you left. You need to brace yourself.”

I nodded. “My eyes can wait. Let’s go see him now.”

A moment later, Fergus rapped on the heavy door of Atikus’s chamber.

A muffled voice bellowed, “Go away!”

“Atikus, it’s Fergus. Declan just arrived, and we’re coming in.”

Without waiting for a reply, Fergus pushed the door open and strode into the room.

I froze halfway through the doorway and stared in disbelief.

The stones of the floor were hidden beneath a layer of scattered clothing and books. Tomes of magic appeared to have been tossed about. As I absorbed the scene, I found a lump in a heavily wrinkled blue robe curled on the bed. Atikus’s silver hair had thinned, and dark spots of age were spreading across his pasty scalp.

“Atikus,” I said in a whisper.

“I said go away.”

“Atikus, it’s me, Declan.”

“I don’t care if you’re the Spirits-damned Phoenix herself. Get out.”

Atikus’s voice didn’t sound angry. It was hollow, devoid of meaning or life—or more likely thewillto live.

Fergus gave me an understanding look, then patted my shoulder and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

I stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Atikus, please. I came to help.”

The lump didn’t move. “You’re wasting your time. No one can help me. I’m useless now.”

“Atikus—”

“Just leave me alone. You’re better off without me.”

I stared into the man’s back.

Seeing my proud, powerful adopted father in this state shocked me more than any of the wonders I’d experienced over the past year. The once-jovial, perpetually positive Mage had been reduced to an immobile, helpless man filled with nothing but self-loathing and self-pity.

My gut turned at the sight.

And yet, beneath sadness, I also found righteous anger.

This man had raised me, gave me hope, taught me to laugh and love. He’d taught me to read and write, to think for myself, and to challenge the thoughts of others. He’d taught me everything that was good and right. What right did he have to shun that love now? Howdarehe give up when the worldneededhim?

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