Page 107 of Duskbound

"Exactly why it's the ultimate curse. Those who pull from the land itself, from their fellow Kalfar—well, I'm sure you're both familiar with how the Umbrathians feel about the corruption of essence."

Aether and I exchanged glances, the weight of his words settling between us.

"A siphon is an abomination,"Krayken continued, his voice growing darker."The one I saw by the river that day was swiftly killed once more realized what she was doing."

"Could a siphon drain the essence from an entire realm?" Aether asked.

"I never witnessed such a thing myself, though the theoretical implications are rather thrilling. Of course, the strain on the siphon would be..."He paused."Well, astronomical, I'd imagine. Like trying to drink the ocean through a reed."

"But it's possible?" I pressed.

"My dear, in my experience, most things can be achieved. This, however…"Krayken paused for a few seconds."I suppose if one could do it incrementally, store it over time, such a thing might be achievable."

The black liquid rippled violently, and one of the sirens emerged further from the surface. Its black eyes fixed on me.

"Time grows short,"the siren's voice cut through our minds like ice."The price only buys so many words."

"Wait," I said quickly. "Just tell us one more thing. How would one identify a siphon?"

Krayken's laugh echoed through our minds one final time."Oh, you might never know. I’m sure one born of today would make sure to keep such a thing veiled in secrecy. But there could be clues—they are,after all, beings of theft, feeling the pull of essence around them, always fighting the urge to reach out and take?—"

His voice cut off abruptly as the black liquid stilled. The phosphorescent glow dimmed, leaving us in near darkness.

"The dead have spoken enough,"the sirens sang in unison."Leave now, Realm Crasher. And take your fair-haired friend with you."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

My heart thunderedin my chest as Tryggar carried us higher, the cold air whipping past until we broke through into cloud cover. The sirens' voices still echoed in my mind, but something else was taking shape—something that made dread coil in my gut like a serpent.

"The King of Sídhe," I called over the wind. "He must be a siphon."

Aether guided Nihr closer so we could hear each other. His expression was guarded, but attentive.

"I never knew what his focus was," I continued, the pieces falling into place faster now. "No one did. In all my time in the Guard, there were no stories about his power." My hands tightened on the saddle’s horn. "But it's him. It has to be. He's been slowly draining Umbrathia, using the arcanite to store what he's stealing."

"If that's true," Aether said carefully, "destroying the arcanite towers won't solve anything."

"No," I agreed. "He could continue draining essence with or without them. And worse—if we destroy the arcanite, all that stored essence would be lost. It would never return to Umbrathia."

The implications hit me harder with each passing moment. All those years of prosperity in Sídhe, the abundant harvests, the thriving cities—it had all been built on stolen Essence. And the arcanite towers weren't just storage; they were proof of how long this had been happening. How long he'd been planning this. He had destroyed Riftdremar with this goal in mind.

"The towers are just the beginning," I said, my voice growing stronger despite the wind. "Think about it—he's had decades to perfect this. To figure out exactly how much essence he could take without completely destroying Umbrathia. Just enough to keep the Kalfar weak, but not enough to kill them outright."

"A slow death instead of a quick one." Aether's golden eyes had turned sharp. "But why? Why not just take everything at once?"

"Because he needs the realm alive, at least in some capacity," I realized. "If Umbrathia dies completely, there's no more essence to take. No more power to steal. Even as the essence is drained, the realm creates more—just not enough to make up for the loss. But perhaps, enough for him to take and store as it’s created." The words tasted bitter. "He's farming the realm. Taking his time."

Tryggar let out a low sound, as if he could sense my growing anger. Below us, the fertile fields of Draxon stretched endlessly, the only part of the realm that was left untouched.

"We have to tell Urkin," I said. "The entire strategy needs to change. If we keep focusing on the towers while ignoring the real threat?—"

"He won't believe it," Aether cut in. "Not without proof."

"Then we'll find proof. We have to." I met his gaze across the space between our Vördr. "Because if we don't stop him soon, there won't be anything left to save."

We flew on in silence, moments dragging by as clouds drifted around us. Without warning, both Vördr let out sharp hisses, Nihr's turning into a growl as they suddenly banked downward.Through gaps in the mist, I caught glimpses of something large moving through the brush below. A deer.

"What are they doing?" I yelled, gripping the saddle horn as he dove faster.

---