Page 102 of Bewitched By the Djinn
A chill skates down my spine. The Ring of Solomon.It’s like a moon. A gravitational pull, not just of power but of intent. An ancient hunger being woken up. Used. Controlled.
We move, fast and silent. The deeper we go, the colder the air gets and the more the castle around us changes. The walls are no longer decorative or grand, only raw stone and flickering torchlight. Older. Forgotten. A hidden corridor, a stairwell spiraling down, deeper and deeper into the foundations.
The magic pulses again, stronger now, rhythmic, like a heartbeat echoing through stone.
A voice rises with it. Low, but getting louder. Chanting. Each word makes my skin crawl, like the syllables weren’t meant to exist outside of nightmares. The energy sharpens like a blade. I grab Bennet’s arm and nod toward a heavy door cracked open enough to let a sliver of golden light spill through.
Bennet peers through the crack and I duck into his side to view what’s happening inside. A wide, circular chamber stretches out, lit by a ring of fire that dances in unnatural colors, violet, blue, and a sickly green that makes my stomach revolt. Symbols are etched into the floor, glowing beneath a circle of black stone. At the center of it all is Helen.
She’s on her knees, bound by chains that shimmer with magic. Her head hangs low, dark hair falling into her face.
Standing above her is Hugh, and next to him, another Helen.FakeHelen, draped in a deep purple ceremonial robe.
Circling the chamber like hungry wolves are three smoky ifrit charged with lightning.
Hugh lifts his hands above his head. Darkness swirls around him, drawn in by the magic, wrapping around the false Helen, and then the real one, tying them together.
His voice echoes through the chamber, proud and venomous. “You should be honored, Helen. Despite your half-blooded weakness, you will be the instrument of our victory. Through you, we will become what the old blood only dreamed of. We will transcend.”
Helen raises her head, defiant even as her limbs shake. “You meanyouwill. You’re using them. Just like you used my parents. Just like you used me and Bennet and everyone.”
Hugh sneers. “They were foolish. Weak. Your father allowed you to be born through mortal seed. Your mother clung to peace and treaties instead of domination. I warned them, and they ignored me. So I did what had to be done.”
Then his hand sparks with magic and he lifts the flare overhead to strike.
Bennet bursts into the chamber like thunder, magic pulsing off him in waves that crack the stone beneath his feet. “Don’t you dare.”
Hugh whirls around, the ring in his hand spitting sparks of furious gold.
“I wanted to be like you.” Bennet’s gaze locks on Hugh. “I thought you loved me. I thought what you taught me meant something.”
Hugh’s lip curls. “Love. You fool. You haven’t learned a damn thing from me. You’re weak. Powerless. The ifrit understand power. They don’t shirk their duty for their feelings. They don’t dilute their bloodlines forlove.”
I sprint to Helen’s side while they face off. I grab the chains around real Helen’s wrists. They are looped through another chain, attached to the floor. They sting like acid, but I don’t let go. I have to get her free.
Bennet stands tall, his eyes burning with the fury of betrayal and grief and barely leashed magic. “You killed my parents for this? Because love made them weak?”
Bennet takes a step forward, and the flames bow away from him. His magic surges around him like a rising storm.
“You don’t understand strength. You think it’s about domination. About the pursuit of power with no limits. But real strength—real power—is about protection. It’s standing in the fire and saying:I will burn before I let those I love get hurt.My parents knew this. I pity you, that you don’t.”
I try to tune out their argument, knowing Bennet isn’t just trauma dumping. Thanks to the bond, I know he’s giving me time to free his sister. Where is it? Where’s the weak link? But these chains are new, and?—
“Cassie. Behind you!” Helen screams.
Fake Helen lunges for me.
Time slows, my magic flaring. Of course Hugh let Bennet talk. A distraction while his minion goes for the weak link—me. It’s the giants all over again, dammit. My heart hammers, instincts screaming. I need a solution. Where?Where?
There. Between the steps of her awkward gait and the angle of her charge is an opening. A narrow, perfect fraction of a second where her weight will shift off balance.
I dive sideways, kicking out and tripping her at the kneecaps. She stumbles, crashing to the ground.
Praise the gods.
“What do you think you are doing?” Hugh’s fury boils over.
The ring flares and he throws everything he has at us.
