Page 14 of Stone Sentinels

“Why, if you have nothing to hide?”

“Because you are unworthy,” I snap. “All of you are. Continue this fight and I will be by your side, but knowing what is to come will not change the path ahead. Not even mine.” The lies may indeed be my undoing, but they are necessary. I cannot afford for one of them to go off on a mission to find Abedon and ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to set into place.

Aima takes a deep breath and retreats from the room, but not before casting a look over her shoulder. “I know you loved Abedon, but don’t let whatever happened destroy what good may still linger in your heart. Unless you wish to die alone, forever watching the world around you as an outsider.” She leaves me, and I hear the telltale sound of fluttering wings as the sprite follows. For a moment, I smell the scent of freshly baked cookies on the air.

For the first time, I am invited to dine with the rest of them. I pretend that my health has improved enough that I can make it down the stairs. Supper is quick and without much etiquette as the lumbering fools around me shovel food down their gullets. I pick at the contents of my plate, eating just enough to satisfy my hunger and their curiosity. No one asks me questions on this night, and for that I am grateful. Once they all toddle off to bed, I pretend to sleep until the little creatures that watch me doze off.

Then I project myself to Variant, who stands in his trophy room, surrounded by garish displays of severed angel wings.

“What news have you?” I ask. I take in the sight of his bare torso and intense features. Variant strolls toward me, bearing the cocky smile of a king like a second skin, and I feel myself growing hot.

“A ritual of tantric magic, one that requires two sacrifices.”

“What of it?” My gaze flickers across that mouthwatering expansion of muscle on his chest. “We’ve heard of rituals more often than not, and they have led us astray more times than I wish to admit. How is this different?”

“Because the tantric magic requires the sacrifice to be a necromancer,” Variant whispers seductively. “He, along with someone with magic in their blood but no true arcane powers, must complete the ritual of their own free will. Once it is done, they will rupture, and upon the altar will be a crystal capable of tearing open The Veil.”

I am impressed. I must admit.

“Where is this altar?”

“Cogost Mountain,” he replies. “Deep in the belly of the mountain rests a temple that was once used to honor the necromancers and their practice.”

“Can the crystal and talisman be fused together by magic?” I ask.

“I will need to speak to the artificer, but it is possible in theory.”

“Ask her immediately. And, in the meantime, I will focus on getting out of here. There is too much to be done for me to sit around and wait any longer. Keep reading about the ritual and tell me everything. I’ll be in touch soon, Variant.”

My soul floats back into my body. And this time, the snoring little sprite in the window does not see me.

CHAPTER SIX

CAMBION

The Veil

I have worked hard to find a way into Pyre’s private quarters. There’s no bed, and no furniture aside from a writing desk and two chairs. Piles on piles of books, boxes, and papers fill the space. Does Pyre sleep? No, I suspect he doesn’t. I creep deeper into the dwelling of the necromancer until I find a door. I don’t find it using the sense of sight, because the door is concealed by magic, but I sense it and the spells that hide it from me.

Brushing my hand along the wall, I feel the tingling sensation of wards. They’re powerful, but not malicious. Pyre’s trust in us is touching, but foolish. There isn’t one person within this cottage who wouldn’t betray the rest of us if it meant completing our task. The fate of the Realms is just too important to allowfriendshipandtrustto get in the way. This thought saddens me, but it is what it is. Continuing forward, I summon my power to open the door without tripping any alarms Pyre may have in place.

He’s hiding something here. Something that can help me. I’m certain.

Pyre’s use of artifacts is no secret. And I’m determined to uncover the place where he keeps them. Thus far, I’ve searched the cottage high and low without finding anything of use. This is the last place I can think of to find the necessary components that would allow me to contact Theren.

And why should I want to do that? Because I’m his brother and I’m convinced he’ll tell me who is really controlling things. No, that information won’t come easily and yes, I’ll have to suffer through who knows what… but I still believe it’s possible to mend whatever ugliness exists between the two of us. I just need to reach him so we can talk... so I can hear fromhimwhy he betrayed me.

Us, I remind myself. I wasn’t the only one hurt by Theren.

The room is dark, but the floor illuminates with a green glow as I step on the floorboards. Torches flicker to life and I see a seemingly endless space crammed with what appear to be innocuous artifacts. A charm increases the size of the cavernous chamber, defying both logic and the physical structure of the cottage. An echo carries as I walk deeper into the cluttered room, filled with junk and treasures alike. Surrounding me is a potent magical energy, likefeelingsound. My body feels loose and pliable.

I need to find a mirror. Theren’s magic will allow me to scry for his location once I make it to Oronrel through the portal. But each step I take causes me to slow my pace and drag my feet. The power here is vast, like everything else in The Veil. It’s overwhelming, but I can sense I’m near my goal. Mirrors, unlike other enchanted objects, are very cold in nature. And, if used properly, they’re one of the most powerful objects in all the Realms—which was why the catoptromancers had been killed long ago.

Even before Variant killed the male angels and took the wings from the females, Theren sentenced every catoptromancer to execution. But to do the same to Aima? I know my brother is capable of great acts of cruelty, but even he has his limits.

The mirror I sense hangs on the wall at the very back of this enormous room. It’s small, barely the size of my palm, but it’s strong with ethereal magic that feels... ancient. The magic signatures within the mirror are similar to Morrigan’s. Whoever owned the mirror before Pyre was a very skilled catoptromancer.

I climb the steep pile of magical rubbish until my fingers brush the mirror. Shocks travel through my entire body and the mirror falls into my hand. Its weight is much greater than its size, and I struggle to carry it to the ground. But, after a few more seconds, the enormous weight of the mirror lifts until it feels as light as a feather. I make my way back to the door. Sweat beads on my brow as I step across the threshold. With a hiss, the door closes behind me, and I feel the unsettling weight slowly lift from my soul.

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