Page 136 of Rose and Shadows
Sylas.
Sylas was here.
Back with us.
About a half hour ago, a massive surge of black magic had swept around Solumira.
It hadn’t been able to enter because of the Celestial potency of the ward that Ariana had in place, something that had even been reinforced by Ketheron recently, just for extra overkill.
But then Ambrose Wisteryn had materialized outside the boundary—with Sylas in his arms.
An unconscious Sylas.
Bruised and bloodied.
Magically tapped out.
But alive.
And here.
Ambrose had broken him out with black magic.
We’d get all the details soon enough, but our priority was to see to Sylas.
Nothing came above that.
Kai had allowed Ambrose through on the condition that he would only use his black magic when within Ka’s lab and nowhere else, because he was concerned about it infecting the environment, specifically Ariana.
I forced myself onward, watching as my purple power continued to draw the dust particles from Sylas, amassing them in a levitating ball in the air above the bed.
Until it was all out of him, Cassius couldn’t heal him effectively.
That Light Fae shit,Somnoria,compromised mental acuity needed to wield magic, the usage itself, and a supernatural being’s healing capabilities.
It was some nasty stuff.
The fact it had been infused with Celestial power in order to significantly impact somebody of Sylas’ caliber was fucking disturbing beyond belief.
Cassius had already pulled out the Celestial power itself.
But actually drawing out the dust itself was a task best handled by me. It was Fae magic, something I was obviously familiar with, even with this being Light rather than Dark Fae in nature.
Finally, I watched as the last of the dust crowded around the sphere, and I cut out my purple power and stepped back with a breath.
“Very well done,” Cassius said, coming over and calling his white power to either palm.
He placed his hands either side of the sphere, his magic flaming and infusing it, until it was swallowed entirely in a burst of white light.
Gone.
That nasty stuff was obliterated.
He brushed his hands, then shrugged off his black jacket and laid it over a cozy oversized ivory chair in the seating area a few feet away underneath the window.
As he strode back toward the bed, those big biceps of his flexed, his muscles rippling beneath his form-fitting black T-shirt. Much to my surprise, given the situation, it sent a lick of desire through me.
Of course he felt it through the Brand, cocking an eyebrow at me.
