Page 82 of Oath of War
‘You had no ambition except becoming a scholar. I wanted power, and you and your conduit mage will give me more than I dreamed possible,’ she said, brushing a strand of silver hair off my forehead. ‘I’m so happy you found your domina, Alaric. I promise to take good care of her for the rest of her brief existence.’
‘You’re a monster,’ I said as I pulled away from her touch, feeling the last ties binding me to my family snap, leaving me untethered and cut off from my roots.
‘A monster? No, of course not. I’m the perfect, sweet, golden-haired, soon-to-be empress of the continent. I wish you’d consider serving me, brother. We could rule this world if we worked together. We still can. I came here to offer a trade—’
‘No,’ I sneered. ‘You may be able to steal my magic, but you cannot force me to use it. You might as well let me die.’
She sighed, standing up as she gestured to someone in the shadows. ‘Take my father. We have preparations to make.’
For the first time in my life, I heard the cruel, sadistic parent who’d abused me for years howl in fear.
‘You can’t do this, Rowena. Take Alaric. He’s younger and more powerful. Take that fucking bastard! Rowena, I can give you power. We can work together!’ he kept screaming even as a corrupted Moroi dragged him from his cell.
‘What is my role in this?’ I asked calmly, even if everything inside me raged in silent fury. ‘You can’t be so delusional to think I’ll help you channel Cahyon’s spirit into our father’s flesh.’
Rowena licked her lips, smiling as she listened to the fading screams before her gaze shifted towards me.
‘You’re a conduit to my conduit, the key to unlocking Annika’s abilities,’ she answered before tapping her finger to my chest. ‘The spell I used to help you communicate with her will allow me to siphon her power. I only needed your cooperation to establish the link, hence our little play ...Oh brother, I’m so scared,’ she exclaimed with a suddenly fearful expression before bursting into laughter. ‘We knew you were on our lands the moment you used the portal. Didn’t you notice that your journey here was a little too easy?’
I’m sorry, my love. I shouldn’t have left,I thought, half listening to my sister’s bragging until she fell silent, realising she had lost my interest.
‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘I will get what I want, even if your domina has to suffer a little discomfort.’ With a snap of Rowena’s finger, another two Moroi stepped forward. ‘Take him to the Chamber of Rituals and chain him to the wall. Ensure he cannot hurt himself,’ she instructed.
The evening fae approached me, and I saw the corruption only the blood hunger could cause up close. Elongated fangs distorted their mouths, their eyes permanently filled withcrimson, and their bulging muscles had made their bodies monstrous and twisted.
My sister’s spell had drained me so much that I could do nothing when they unchained me. I was dragged through winding stairs and corridors until we reached a candlelit grotto. There, they strung me from metal hoops bolted into the rock directly above a large, flat stone that appeared to be a sacrificial altar.
This must have been Ozar’s Chamber of Rituals. The pathos and splendour were still there, visible in the thousands of half-melted candles decorating every nook and cranny. Deeper in the cave was an underground lake with a small island accessible by two bridges. And while the sound of splashing water was soothing, the view of the dark stone altar was decidedly not.
The hours passed as I hung there, trying to ignore the discomfort. I slowed my breathing, letting my body mend the cuts and bruises I’d received fighting Cahyon’s monsters.
As soon as I felt able, I tested my restraints. I suspected the collar around my neck was made using augurec,1 a metal known for its ability to disturb the aether. The chains, however, were pure iron. If my sister wanted to use me, she would have to remove the collar, and as soon as I had access to my magic again, I could try to escape.
So I waited. My limbs grew numb, extended above my head, and I had to squeeze my fists several times to restore circulation. Finally, the Moroi that had tied me to the wall returned.
‘Are you ready, boy? The fun’s about to begin,’ one said, licking his lips, and I was sure he wanted to sink his fangs into my neck. The Moroi liked to taste blood—it prolonged their lives as well as gave them a boost of aether. Those corrupted by the Lich King, though, needed to drain their victims dry, and they liked them conscious, the kicking and screaming driving their bloodlust.
Moments later, they reappeared with my father, his naked body covered in runes. He cursed, thrashing in their grip, but he wore a collar similar to mine, blocking his use of magic. I was so entranced by the sight of the Moroi tying him to the altar that I missed Cahyon’s entrance.
‘Ah, Alaric!’ he said, approaching me. ‘Once this is done, we will renew our bond. Something disturbed it, but no worries, there is nothing our skilful Ro can’t fix.’ The illusion he usually wore to hide his hideous body was absent, and I shuddered as he trailed his finger over the marks on my chest.
The Moroi came back to me and opened my collar. I couldn’t move or fight, pinned by the immense power of the immortal lich, though his touch had revealed the source of his immortality. I could feel the magic of the land flowing into his body, fuelling his existence.
Unable to eat and drink, unable to store aether, he sustained his body by stealing the land’s vitality, and Katrass was at the crossroads of three ley lines, the gateway to his power. It was why he was tied here, unable to leave it for long enough to control his monstrous army.
‘The moon is in position. We need to start the ritual, my lord,’ Rowena said, and the hand that touched my cheek slid to my neck, squeezing it like a vice. My world darkened, the air entering and leaving my lungs in short pants, as strands of aether encircled my arms and legs, replacing the iron chains.
My father’s eyes filled with fear and fury, but he was as helpless as I was. Cahyon dragged me over to him, inspecting him with a knowing smirk.
‘I have to thank you, Roan, for keeping yourself in such good shape. I’m sure your body will serve me as well as you did,’ he said, laughing when my father tried to spit in his face.
‘When you’re ready, my lord, lay next to him,’ Rowena instructed. ‘You need to be touching him to allow your spirit to pass over.’
My father screamed in a mix of rage and despair, his eyes locking onto mine as though I could save him. For a fleeting moment, pity gnawed at me. Tal maladie wasn’t his fault, but even madness of the heart could not excuse the way he had treated his children.
As the Lich King reclined his body, Rowena approached, standing at the head of the altar. Her hand pressed against the sigil carved into my chest, the other on my father’s brow, and she began her incantation. I hoped her plan to siphon aether through my bond with Annika wouldn’t work, but as it flowed through me, I was stripped of that illusion.
Fire erupted in my chest, tearing through me like molten blades. I screamed, writhing as raw, unrelenting aether coursed through me. Annika’s shock rippled through our bond, swiftly replaced by her own pain, which fused with mine in an unbearable cacophony of torment. The spell worked.
