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“Yes,” he said. “The battle of our lives.”
Somehow even that was an understatement.
It had been bad enough when we’d believed Ketheron had been ordered here by the Celestial Plane. But now with others involved and thoseotherscurrently being unknown, it opened things up to a dangerous degree.
Not knowing who our enemies were, especially ones who had control over such mammoth power, was a really terrifying thing.
It was why I couldn’t stay here right now and eat breakfast, why I couldn’t hash it out with my men when we already had something we could work on immediately.
It was why I had to take some sort of action right the hell now.
I couldn’t stomach doing anything less.
It was my last thought before I then teleported out with Cassius.
14
~Kai~
“Fuck,” I grunted as I watched our latest attempt at re-engineering theInhibitorspell fail.
Yet again.
The suspended kaleidoscope of magical colors in the center of Arcanum Conclave turned to ash instead of brightening and fusing, as was the goal.
I looked up from my position fifty feet away working over one of the stone benches on producing our ninth Bastion Gauntlet, as Cornelius and Maelira discussed possible remaining options to try. Gabriel and Calla were over by another table making more gauntlets just like me. And Sylas was late. Again.
I shot myself with my magic accidentally, my frustration impacting my work, a mild burn forming on the back of my hand.
I healed it quickly and stepped back from the table, then headed on outside, recognizing that I needed a brief mental breather.
I pushed out of the entrance doors and took a walk around the property, my coat flapping behind me against the wind.
The peaceful surroundings infused me, and I continued for a while, even savoring the chill in the air as welcome and soothing.
And then a voice caught my attention, stalling me in my easy steps.
“Ungh… just a little more. Yeah… come on.”
I zoned in on the sound, the grunts and some shuffling growing louder as I reached the rear of the building.
I caught sight of an alcove concealed by shadow.
Approaching cautiously, I strained to make out the figure shrouded by the darkness and the protectiveness of the alcove.
I was a few feet out when I identified exactly who it was.
Fuck me.
There Sylas was sitting on a rock, his coat on the ground beside him, his shirt off as he injected a fucking syringe into his chest.
It was filled with a milky liquid infused with flecks of his crimson magic.
With a burst of teleportation, I was in front of him. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He jolted, almost dropping the syringe in the process.
His head shot up. “Motherfucker, Kai,” he grumbled, then proceeded to inject the remaining liquid.