Vanquished Gods (Hallowed Games #2)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

T he morning light streamed into my room. As I sipped my tea—Bran’s recipe—I looked out at the sun-kissed sea. Someone had left my breakfast outside my door that morning, and I bit into it—a poached pear tart with cloves and ginger.

Here in Gwethel, it felt more peaceful than I’d ever imagined. Last night, I’d gone to see Leo in Veilcross Haven. He hadn’t retired yet, and I’d found him in a little garden outside his cottage, eating rose pudding under the stars with Lydia. He insisted that I have some of the pudding, which he’d made himself. He was immensely proud of the delicate rosewater and honey flavors. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so happy.

But Leo had no idea that a legion of horrors had their sights set on Gwethel, and I didn’t want to give the poor boy more nightmares than he already had. I wanted to destroy the Pater before Leo ever had to think about it.

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine myself slaughtering an entire legion of Luminari, the death magic spiraling from my fingertips as they crumpled to the ground. I tried to picture how it would feel to unleash it from my body, the ribbons of dark power that would coil around the soldiers, making their muscles seize up, purpling their skin.

I sipped my tea. Some dark part of me knew the thrill that would bring, but that wasn’t who I wanted to be. Most of the soldiers were probably just people who needed a paycheck in a world with few options. I shouldn’t feel thrilled to kill them all.

There had to be another way.

A knock sounded at the door, which immediately started to swing, but I called out, “The curtains are open!”

A yelp sounded from the other side, and the door slammed closed again. I stood and quickly jerked the curtains shut, darkening the room.

From the hall, I heard Rowena complaining, “Are you trying to kill us all?” Her voice pierced the door, pinched and high-pitched.

“Usually, people wait for a response after they knock!” I called back. “You can come in now.”

Smiling, she swept in. “I wanted to make sure you saw the breakfast I left out. And Sion asked me to tell you that he will be late to train you today, but that Maelor will stand in. You’re to meet him at the edge of the Tirnamor Forest as soon as you’re done with breakfast.”

I sighed. “Thank you.”

She flicked her blonde curls over her shoulder, smiling coquettishly. “Sion’s probably tired. Long night. Very long.”

I had the feeling she wanted me to ask. “Oh?”

She sighed deeply. “He never got over his first love, you know. Epona. Of course he didn’t. She was so beautiful. So happy . That’s why everyone loved her. She would light up every room. Maelor stopped paying attention to her when his daughter, Pearl, died. But Epona still needed love, didn’t she? And Sion was there to see her worth. And do you know, I think I remind Sion of her. Because I’m happy, and I love to be alive, and I bring a smile to his face.”

I bit my lip. “There’s something you’re trying to tell me, isn’t there?”

She giggled. “Well, let’s just say there’s a reason he’s tired.”

My chest tightened. “Right.”

“He invited me into his bed last night.”

“No, I get it.”

Why did a gnawing ache coil through my chest?

With a fluttering wave, Rowena sashayed out of the room, and I dressed myself in a long blue gown, frowning. When was the last time anyone had described me as lighting up a room? I wasn’t sure it had ever happened. It wasn’t exactly an apt description for someone with the title Underworld Queen .

I touched the place at my throat where Sion had bitten me just yesterday, forcing myself to forget all about him. I wasn’t about to let myself become some vampire-addicted thrall.

I was there to learn how to defeat the Order, and I was starting that morning. I would focus on nothing else.

I found Maelor standing at the forest’s edge. He’d shed his Raven’s cloak for a sleek black shirt and trousers. He stood with his hands casually tucked into his pockets as the wind ruffled his dark hair.

“Good morning, Elowen.”

I squinted against the bright sunlight. “Have you ever taught someone how to use magic before?”

“Never. But I have consulted the most experienced witches in Veilcross Haven. I’d love for them to be here?—”

“But I could kill them.”

A ray of sunlight sparked in his pale eyes. “Yes. At least, until you gain more control over your magic.”

I hugged myself. “What are we doing this morning?”

“Hunting.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out a carved wooden wand. “Here. It’s made of yew. The witches say yew is the best wood for channeling death magic.”

I took the wand from him, feeling a faint hum of power flow from the wood into my palm. My gaze flicked up. “Will I be practicing on you?”

The corner of his mouth curled. “If you’d like. But I was going to suggest we start with animals so I can stay closer to you. The first thing the witches suggest is to take off your shoes. Let the magic flow through you, and use your mind to channel it where you want it to go. They say a vampire’s magic comes from the night, but a witch’s magic comes from the soil, from the buried gods, and that the forest is their temple.”

“Barefoot hunting? I’m up for anything.” I slipped off my leather shoes, feeling the cool, soft moss beneath my feet.

I scanned the green forest around me, the sunlight piercing through a canopy of towering oaks and twisted yews. The scent of moss and wet earth filled my lungs, and the wind rustled the leaves. Between the oak trunks, ivy-wrapped stone pillars stood among the greenery, their surfaces etched with ancient runes. Vines climbed over a carved rock, where I could just make out the image of a man wearing antlers. A temple to the old gods…

“It’s beautiful here,” I said softly.

“And you draw magic from that beauty,” Maelor said. “Life and death mingle in the forest, and magic lives beneath the mossy soil. When you use your magic, let it flow back into you to control it, like the ebb and flow of a canal lock. That’s how you master control.”

“Does it come naturally to you?” I asked. “Controlling your magic?”

“Yes, it comes naturally. My shadow magic comes at will. The only time I can’t summon it or control it is when I use too much at once and my resources are depleted.”

“I’ve never felt any control over my magic,” I admitted. “There’s no will to it, no summoning, no restraint or targeting. I simply touch someone, and they die.”

He took a step closer, and a line formed between his eyebrows. “Does your magic have a feeling to you?”

I cast my mind back to the last time I’d used it. “It feels like hunger. It feels like a dark craving to reap the lives of as many mortals as I can. It’s something that takes over me until I’m not me anymore—I’m just death.”

His pale eyes danced with unearthly light. “Hunger is a feeling I know well. I might control my shadow magic, but bloodlust is something that takes over me just like you describe. The insatiable hunger, it consumes me. When it strikes me…I turn into someone else.”

My eyebrows rose. “You go to a place beyond words?”

He cocked his head. “Exactly.”

“You seem like you’re controlling it better now than you were at Ruefield.”

His expression was hard to read, and he inhaled deeply. “Let’s hope so.”

I swallowed hard, and with a deep exhalation, I imagined releasing my magic from the wand.

He pointed across the path at a white rabbit whose nose twitched as it chewed on leaves. “There. Try to aim for him with your wand. Don’t overthink it. Your magic should act as an extension of you, as natural as taking a breath.”

I raised my wand, and it pulsed in my hand like a heartbeat. It was the life-force of the forest, and it beat in time to the rabbit’s heart. This was an entirely new, invigorating feeling to me. The forest’s energy flowed through the gnarled roots beneath the soil; magic lived here, twining with the spirits of all the creatures. This was what the Order wanted us to be afraid of—the wild beauty of nature.

I pointed the wand at the rabbit, summoning that magic from the earth upward. As I aimed, power skimmed up my calves, my thighs, into my belly. It filled my chest and streamed down my arm into my hands.

I breathed in—and I released.

My muscles tensed.

I’d never seen my magic before, but it was just as I’d pictured it—an ashy mauve smoke that streaked wildly through the air. It slammed down a few feet from the rabbit, and leaves tumbled across the forest floor, scattering.

The rabbit darted away, a streak of white against the forest’s shadows.

“Missed.”

“But that was amazing,” said Maelor. “You channeled the magic. That’s progress.”

I turned to him, raising my eyebrows. “Anything I should change?”

“I could feel your body tensing right before you released. Your breath went still, and you closed off the energy from the soil. You need to let it in, keep replenishing your power constantly.”

It reminded me of what Sion had said in the temple: I needed to let the power back in. And Maelor was right. I’d felt myself close off, and already now, hunger flickered in the pit of my chest, the emptiness that made me want to slaughter people with my magic.

I closed my eyes once more, focusing on the beating heart of the forest, breathing in woodland energy around me. In the hollows of my mind, an image flickered—a man with pale features and sharp cheekbones, his eyes dark and haunted. The god of death. The Serpent craved mortal lives…ravenous. Bone white, he grew from the rich soil. Coiled in serpents, he ripped the heads off roses, scattered the petals…he reaped life from the world and sowed it back into the earth, fertilizing his garden with decay. He harvested the living.

My body vibrated with his energy.

As I inhaled, magic again streamed into me from the ground.

“Let the magic cycle within you,” Maelor said, “like eddies in a stream.”

With my eyes still closed, I concentrated on his words.

“Now, open your eyes.”

I looked up as Maelor reached down from behind me, touching my hand, and I felt a charge pass between us, though his gaze remained fixed ahead. “There. Do you see those blackbirds?”

I looked from his face and locked my eyes on a pair of blackbirds perched in a tree, their glossy feathers washed in sunlight. One of them called out, a clear, high note that pierced the rustling leaves. My heart pounded, and my breath shallowed.

“I’ll help you channel it.” Maelor’s breath was warm against my ear as he leaned down, his hand still covering mine. “Feel the magic of the forest flowing into your veins, down along your arm. Let it become you. Don’t think about it too much. This magic is a part of you.”

I inhaled slowly, envisioning the magic flowing inside me. I exhaled, releasing it, and a dark tendril of energy shot from the wand, twisting through the air. It slammed into the tree, missing the target again—but that time, just barely.

Maelor lowered his hand from mine. “Very good.”

Hunger opened in my chest, just below the surface, a dark, clawing need. My skin prickled, and I licked my lips.

“Now draw it back into your body,” he said quietly. “Like breathing in and out. Close your eyes again. Listen to the living world of the forest. Listen to its breath, its beating heart. It feeds on decay.”

That time, when I closed my eyes, I felt a stronger heartbeat. That of a king. It moved closer, feet crunching over leaves.

Maelor leaned in again, his palm resting against the back of my hand as I raised my wand. Between Maelor and me, energy crackled in the air.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

When I did, my eyes locked on a deer in the distance. My breath quickened.

“Let your power surge into you,” Maelor whispered, “filling you. Focus on your target, and release it.”

I breathed out, letting go. That time, as I exhaled, the magic flowed swiftly and smoothly—a dark tendril shooting out for the deer, then flowing back in through my feet. Just as the deer fled, my magic struck the spot where it had been standing moments before.

I bared my teeth, already wanting more.

I found myself leaning into Maelor. His powerful body helped to channel the magic along with mine, and it charged into both of us, replenishing me.

I remembered something Maelor had said to Sion in an argument once: The Mormaer dragged us back from death, where we belonged.

Was that why I was drawn to them? They belonged with me .

“There,” Maelor murmured. “And as you let the magic back in?—”

“Isn’t this cozy?” A rich, velvety voice interrupted us.

I turned, peering around Maelor’s body to see Sion leaning against a tree, arms folded, shadows sliding through the air around him.