Magic Undaunted (The Grimm Files #6)

Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

ELYRIA

E lyria knew she shouldn’t have lingered after the fight, but there had been no other option. The creature—once a fae servant, now a twisted, magic-drained husk—was proof of the darkness looming at the edge of the fae realm. It had confirmed her worst suspicions about the High Council and Oberon’s shadowy dealings. But the adrenaline hadn’t faded as she made her way back to the hidden encampment of the rebels, and her mind remained tangled in what had happened. Worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about Stryker.

His presence had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. The tension between them was as palpable and perilous as ever, simmering just below the surface, waiting for one wrong move to erupt into something more. But it wasn’t just the tension, it was the look in his eyes. There had been doubt there.

As rumors of their spies in Celestia reached her at the rebel stronghold, she knew that Stryker had been tasked with investigating the incident. The High Council wanted someone—arguably their best warrior and one who, at least, had the appearance of being unbiased to find out what had happened and, she was sure, to cover their tracks if necessary. That meant Stryker would come looking for answers.

Their choice only showed the High Council’s arrogance. Stryker was no fan of the High Council, and the answers he sought might just make him understand the depth of the Council’s corruption. Elyria just questioned if she could stay ahead of him long enough to expose those answers before everything fell apart.

Stryker

S tryker’s mind churned as he moved through the lavish corridors of the High Council, his steps heavy beneath the burden of this newest task. He was a warrior, not an investigator. The incident—the discovery of a creature, the twisted form of a lesser fae servant—had sent shockwaves through Celestia. The fae who had witnessed it were terrified, rumors spreading like wildfire about dark magic invading their realm.

Now, his job was to investigate; to find out what—or who—was behind it. Unfortunately, he already had a suspicion of who it might have been. For Stryker, the question was really, why?

He clenched his jaw as he walked toward Oberon’s chambers, his thoughts a whirlwind of anger and confusion. Normally, his loyalty to the High Council would have been enough to carry him through an investigation like this. But ever since finding Elyria wandering the halls of the palace, everything had shifted. The seeds of doubt she had planted the last time they’d spoken had taken root and now were growing faster than he could control.

She had warned him. She had told him that the High Council was hiding something, that their hands weren’t as clean as they pretended. And though he had dismissed her words at the time, the unease gnawing at him now was impossible to ignore.

He reached Oberon’s chambers, the grand double doors towering over him, the faint glow of magic shimmering along their edges. With a deep breath, Stryker pushed them open and stepped inside.

Oberon was waiting, his usual regal demeanor firmly in place. He sat behind a massive crystal desk, his fingers steepled, his golden eyes watching Stryker with an unsettling calm.

“Stryker,” Oberon said smoothly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “You’ve come to discuss the unfortunate event at the gathering, I presume.”

“Unfortunate doesn’t quite cover it,” Stryker replied, his voice steady, masking his emotions and the conflict within him. “A fae was twisted into something unrecognizable. The witnesses are terrified. There are rumors of dark magic spreading through Celestia.”

Oberon’s lips curved slightly, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Rumors have a way of exaggerating the truth, Stryker. You know that.”

Stryker stepped forward, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “I’ve interrogated several of the witnesses, and they all saw the same thing. A fae servant transforming into a creature—a husk, drained of magic. This wasn’t a random accident. Something dark is happening, and it’s spreading.”

Oberon leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful, though Stryker could sense the evasiveness behind it. “Dark magic is a dangerous thing, but it is also elusive. It has ways of manifesting where we least expect it. Perhaps the servant was simply… tainted by exposure to something outside of our control.”

Stryker narrowed his eyes. “Outside of our control? Or outside of the Council’s control?”

Oberon’s gaze sharpened. “Do you doubt the Council’s ability to protect its people, Stryker?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Stryker’s jaw tightened. “I’m not here to question the Council or any of its actions,” he said carefully, though the doubt in his voice was undeniable. “I was tasked to find out what really happened.”

“Then find it,” Oberon replied, his tone cold and final. “I would suggest exercising caution when you make your accusations. The Council has many enemies, some of whom would like nothing more than to see us falter.”

Stryker bristled. He didn’t need to be reminded of the dangers lurking beyond Celestia’s borders. But there was something in Oberon’s tone that struck a chord—a warning, a threat, veiled beneath the surface.

The memory of Elyria’s voice echoed in his mind. ‘There’s something bigger happening, and you’re too blind to see it.’

His loyalty had never been questioned. It had always been steadfast and unwavering. But now, as he stood before Oberon, the High Lord of the Council, the man who had banished Elyria without a second thought, Stryker couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that something was being hidden from him.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Stryker asked, his voice low, challenging.

Oberon’s eyes flashed, but he kept his expression composed. “I’ve told you all you need to know.”

The words were final, dismissive, but they only deepened Stryker’s unease. He had known Oberon for centuries, had once fought under his command, had trusted him without question. But now, standing here, Stryker couldn’t help but feel that something was terribly wrong.

Without another word, he turned and left the chamber, his mind spinning with doubt. Oberon’s evasiveness had only confirmed what Elyria had been trying to tell him all along—there was more at play here than the Council was willing to admit. Had he been too blind to see it all along?

As Stryker made his way down the corridor, his thoughts drifted back to Elyria. Her warnings, her defiance, the way she had looked at him that night after the gathering—angry, hurt, but still burning with the same fire that had always drawn him to her, continued to gnaw at him. He had tried to push her away, tried to bury his feelings for her, but it had been impossible. The more he tried to forget, the stronger the pull became.

It felt as if some elemental truth about the Council was slipping through his fingers, Stryker couldn’t deny it any longer. Elyria had been right. She had seen what he had refused to, and now, he was standing on the edge of something he didn’t fully understand. One thing was certain: if he was going to find out the truth, he would need to look outside the parameters the Council had set before him. Perhaps, in the end, it would be Elyria who proved to be the key to unraveling it all.

I n the shadows of the back alleyways of New Orleans, Stryker stood with his pulse thrumming as he waited for the Duvall sisters. He had sent a discreet message, knowing full well the risk of meeting them here, in their territory beyond the High Council’s influence where the fae of the Council dared not tread. But he needed answers, and the Duvall sisters—half-fae demon hunters with their own web of alliances—were his best shot.

The city buzzed with a life entirely different from the polished beauty of Celestia. Here, danger lurked around every corner, magic of all shades mixing in the air, thick and heady. It made him uneasy, but he pushed the feeling aside. He had spent centuries serving the Council, loyal to its rules, loyal to its cause. Now, after everything that had transpired, he was beginning to see that his loyalty might have been misplaced.

A soft rustle broke through the stillness, and Stryker’s hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his blade. But before he could react, a figure materialized from the shadows as did a blade to his throat.

“Careful, griffon,” a silky voice said from behind him. “You don’t want to pull that unless you mean it.”

He turned to find them there—Geneva, Phoenix, Catalina, and Savannah Duvall, their distinct beauty matched by the fierce magic that crackled just beneath their skin. They moved like wraiths, each sister exuding a dangerous grace that had earned them their reputation as the most feared demon hunters in New Orleans.

Phoenix, the eldest, crossed her arms over her chest, her silver eyes assessing him with cool detachment. “Stryker Landry, of all people,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “What brings Celestia’s golden warrior to our side of the world?”

Stryker clenched his jaw. He didn’t have time for their games. “I need information.”

Savannah, the youngest, snorted, her spiky blue-tinged hair catching the faint glow of the streetlamps. “And why should we help you? Last I checked, the Council didn’t much care for our kind.”

“I’m not here on behalf of the Council,” Stryker replied, his voice hard. “This is about something bigger. Something dark. There’s a rogue mage?—”

“Rogue mage?” Geneva, the quietest of the sisters, spoke up, her voice low and thoughtful. “You mean the one who’s been making deals with the lower courts?”

Stryker’s gaze sharpened. “You know about him?”

Catalina’s expression darkened. “We know enough. The mage you’re after is no ordinary rogue. He’s human, yes, but his power comes from something far older and far more dangerous than any mortal should have access to.”

“What kind of power?” Stryker asked, dread creeping up his spine.

“Blood magic,” Phoenix said, her voice serious now. “And not just any blood magic. He’s been experimenting with fae blood—stealing magic, twisting it, corrupting it.”

Stryker’s stomach turned as the memory of the twisted fae servant at the gathering came rushing back. “He’s turning fae into monsters.”

“Not just fae,” Geneva added, her eyes narrowing. “He’s using the stolen magic to build a weapon. A weapon that could tip the balance of power in Celestia and beyond. If he succeeds, no one—not the High Council, not the rebels—will be able to stop him.”

Stryker’s mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. The disappearances, the dark magic, the creature at the gathering—it all led back to this rogue mage. And if what the Duvall sisters said was true, the mage wasn’t just a threat to the Council. He was a threat to everyone.

“Do you know where he is?” Stryker asked, urgency lacing his tone.

Geneva shook her head. “We’ve been tracking him, but he’s careful. He’s made allies in the shadows, both fae and human. If you’re looking to stop him, you’re going to need more than just the Council behind you.”

Stryker’s jaw tightened. He knew what she was implying, and it was a path he hadn’t wanted to take. But there was no avoiding it now. The Council wasn’t going to help him. If anything, they were part of the problem.

He needed allies—unlikely ones.

“I need to find Elyria,” he said, the words leaving his lips before he could second-guess them.

The Duvall sisters exchanged glances, and Phoenix let out a low whistle. “Elyria Knightshade? The one who was banished?”

“Yes,” Stryker said, his voice firm. “I believe she may know more than anyone about what’s happening. If I’m going to stop this, I need her.”

Phoenix studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Be careful, Stryker. The line between ally and enemy is razor-thin in these times. Elyria’s no longer part of your world.”

“I know,” he muttered, more to himself than to them.

L ater, as the setting sun cast deepening shadows over Celestia, Stryker stood atop the highest tower in the realm. The wind whipped around him, cold and sharp, but he barely felt it. His mind was consumed by the choice he had made.

From up here, the city looked peaceful, the twilight glow illuminating the crystal streets and grand halls where the fae lived their perfect lives, unaware of the darkness creeping ever closer. But Stryker knew better. He had seen the cracks in the facade, felt the weight of the corruption that lay beneath the surface.

And now, he was standing at the edge, torn between the loyalty he had sworn to the Council and the undeniable truth he could no longer ignore.

Elyria had been right. She had seen the danger long before he had, had tried to warn him, and he had pushed her away. He had been too blinded by duty, too afraid to face the possibility that everything he had fought for was a lie.

Now, as he stared out at the horizon, watching the sun sink lower, Stryker knew that he couldn’t turn back. The rogue mage was a threat unlike any he had ever faced, and if Elyria was the key to stopping him, then he had no choice. He knew the path he was facing was dangerous, one that could cost him everything—his standing with the Council, his future, his very life.

Yet, the thought of seeing Elyria again stirred something deep inside him—something that had never truly faded, despite the anger, the pain, the betrayal. The memory of their last encounter, the fire in her eyes and the way she had stood defiant in the face of danger haunted him.

Stryker stood back. He’d made his choice. He would find Elyria, and with her help, he would put an end to the rogue mage and whatever he was planning—no matter the cost.