Page 34 of Mantle (IMMORTAL FLAME #3)

~Kai~

He was struggling.

Staggering in his step.

Hands trembling.

Breathing unsteady.

And, of course, trying his utmost to hide it.

He hated showing weakness—possibly more than I did.

Us witnessing him in that state earlier and him being trounced by Masquerade had already demonstrated that and brought it to the forefront—at least in his mind.

The truth was, it hadn’t been a fair fight. Not in the least.

And, as much as he tried to act like it wasn’t true for the majority of the time, Sylas was sick.

Terribly sick.

Fuck, he was dying.

I eyed the door at the far end of the space that led into his bedroom.

He’d had to step back from our work to perform a Ruminat in order to clear his head, something vital for a magic-wielder.

I took in what we’d managed to accomplish in the last little while, eyeing the table in his cramped kitchen of the rustic cottage.

The wood surface was scorched in places from past experiments, stained by spell elements, herbs, even his own blood.

Above the table was a sagging shelf lined with reused potion vials, stacks of syringe racks, mismatched glass jars.

A narrow cauldron was etched with necromantic symbols that pulsed faintly while the serum cured.

There were syringe holders beside it, ready to receive the milky liquid with flecks of Sylas’ power once it was finished curing and cooling.

Several mortar bowls filled with crushed and liquified elements were also situated on the makeshift workspace.

A large curved glass beaker glowing with Sylas’ magic swirling inside was beside it.

And a copper funnel was suspended above the beaker by a stand of iron designed to filter magically-infused fluids.

Amongst all of that were dozens of syringes.

Even with what we’d been able to accomplish already, it wouldn’t be enough.

With Sylas’ condition, he would need to be sustained constantly.

He’d told me that when Corvin had attacked him tonight, the bastard had manipulated him into burning through massive amounts of power, forcing him to draw from his own essence just to survive.

And because of the infection he’d been carrying, his healing was already compromised.

Corvin has known exactly what he was doing.

He was the one who’d infected him in the first place.

He’d wanted Sylas dead—before word could reach us about him searching for the Wrath of Hades…

or the fact that it was already on this plane.

That was why the desiccation had been so fast. So brutal.

Sylas would require constant dosing and at increased frequency as well now.

And it already took a great deal of power to make the serum.

It wasn’t sustainable.

Fortunately, I had a solution in mind, which I’d present to him once he emerged from his room.

I stepped back from the table and took a walkabout his home, heading back into the modest living room and gravitating toward the bookcase, taking in his impressive collection of magical volumes.

I needed to distract myself from the fact that V had sent me a mind-link update that he and Jaxon hadn’t yet located Ariana.

I was holding on with a white-knuckle grip to the fact that she was no damsel in distress.

She was a fucking warrior and she’d grown to not only accept her power, but to also wield it with absolute greatness and capability.

I’d had Warlow check in on Nyx, and he was doing well, actually resting and recovering. With the Corvin aspect to those memories Nyx had recovered, there was concern that it would make Nyx a target now that Corvin was out there in the world.

I ran my fingers along the spines of the volumes in Sylas’s bookcase—until an eruption of white light had me jolting and spinning around.

A magical hologram shimmered into being—just like the one Cornelius had summoned of Ryker that day in his home.

Cassius and Cornelius both came into view.

But that wasn’t what drew most of my attention.

It was what Cornelius was holding in a white-knuckle grip.

The sight of the fucking thing sent a shudder through me, knowing what it could do to the woman I loved and so many members of her family.

The Wrath of Hades.

The blade had an unnatural silver hue, the edge honed and precise.

Down the center ran a double, decorative groove.

The hilt was encrusted with multicolored stones, the grip wrapped with patterned silver.

It was ornate and striking, belying its dangerous nature and the fact that all it carried with it was death.

“The link Corvin formed has been severed,” Cassius informed me.

Cornelius continued, “We’ve also run tests to confirm that his spell hadn’t gotten close enough to determine where it was being held. That knowledge remains safe.”

“So you didn’t just know about it, you had it all along?” I questioned Cornelius.

“That was the mysterious topic behind the meeting you requested? You’d discovered that fact? How?”

“Sylas Morgrave gave Ariana a warning. Death circles her. I launched an investigation and the Wrath of Hades obviously came to mind as something that could bring about that upsetting reality.”

Cornelius choked. “She hasn’t come to us with this.”

“I found out on my own from the source himself. And before you go there, he doesn’t deserve your ire. He never speaks of the warnings he imparts. They are sacred to him. He only did so with me due to a misunderstanding between us.”

Cassius remained unusually silent.

Perhaps he was still in shock about the presence of the Wrath of Hades on this plane, and how close somebody had come to accessing it to wield against Ariana—and then him, in all likelihood.

“I didn’t know you had the dagger in your possession. I just knew that you were the last one to lay eyes on it after Draco and Mia fell by it years ago.”

“I had no choice. I couldn’t risk returning a weapon to the Celestial Plane that could be used against my granddaughter—my granddaughter who they wanted on a leash, as you well know.”

“Who they really wanted to eliminate,” Cassius spoke. He shook his head in utter dismay.

“Yes,” Cornelius admitted, heavily. He shoved his hand through his long, silvery hair. “The blade cannot be destroyed. The safest place for it was with me.”

“Or so we thought,” I ground out. “All the while that blade exists, Sylas’ warning can come to pass.”

“We will develop a defense against it,” Cassius spoke. “Mia, Jaxon, and I will incorporate it into our work toward finding a way to break the connection that the Celestial Plane has to the mortal world.”

“Until then, I will bury it beneath cloaking and layers of magic, including the remnants of death magic that we were able to extract from the serum Sylas provided us. It means that another spell like that by Corvin will be repelled.”

“Hurry, Cassius. Because we all know, none of you are safe now that Corvin has acted. He is tied to Ketheron and the Celestial Plane… beings who can conquer what should not be conquerable. Including layers of cloaking and magic. Find a way to destroy that fucking thing. For Ari, and for all your sakes.”

A heavy look passed between us.

Nods of understanding were exchanged.

And then the hologram faded away.

I shoved a hand through my hair.

Fuck!

I slammed my fist into the bookcase, the hard, solid wood thankfully absorbing the impact. It shook the books, though, and as a couple fell out, a piece of folded parchment slipped from between the pages of one.

I swept the books and the paper off the floor and put one book back in its place on the shelf. But as I went to open the remaining one to reinsert the parchment, I stilled as I caught sight of the scrawled words on the back.

Maven Coven – Legacy Blood Binding.

“Hmm… the fact you found that in amongst all those books says a great deal.”

I spun around with the paper in my hand at the sound of Sylas’ voice.

“You were meant to, it would seem,” he said, as he walked out of the bedroom devoid of his usual swagger. He was weary and clearly also traumatized by Corvin’s brutal attack. “That wasn’t my intention, but sometimes there’s a higher power guiding things—and I don’t mean the Celestial Plane.”

I unfolded the piece of paper and took in what was inside.

Holy. Hades.

Magical markings and formulas, incantations, glyphs… and death magic.

I studied it for several moments.

It couldn’t be.

“I don’t… how did you… how did you even know about this? About my parents binding me to the Maven Coven in this way?”

“Because after we were together that night, I received a warning about you: ‘Death is the key. Freedom from the binds of legacy borne from Maven—a Coven without one enslaved.’ ”

“Why didn’t you come to me with this?”

“Why do you think, Kai?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I would have interpreted that, in my desperation to be free, as needing to literally lay down my life.”

“Yes. Or you might’ve crafted a spell that required your death and attempted to revive yourself the moment it struck.

And the final part likely would’ve failed—you’d have remained dead.

You were younger then. Less studied. Far more reckless.

” He stepped closer and pressed a finger to two particular lines of the spell I’d seen earlier.

“But as you can see, I’ve discovered a far more viable—and safer—way around what binds you.

You didn’t see it because you lack the deep, specialized knowledge of necromancy needed to detect it.

This spell is rooted in death magic and was heavily concealed by a veil your parents constructed, saturated in blood magic.

Not family-linked, but specifically targeted: bound solely by their blood, not yours.

Only they could see what was hidden beneath.

” A small, smug smile touched his lips. “Fortunately for you, there was a loophole. A necromancer of high enough skill could taste the death magic beneath the veil. Which I did.”