It was the animal in Magnus’s voice.
Wolf.
Only werewolves had that.
The rough, primal undertone.
The earlier commotion had swallowed the difference.
The council had heard authority and nothing more.
They were vampires, drunk on their own noise, and none of them knew enough about wolves to recognise the impossible when it spoke from the head of their table.
Kyllian did.
Usually, Kyllian shouldn’t even be in the gathering but Damien had named Kyllian Magnus guardian before he left Blood City.
“Evander’s body barely made it into Blood City a few hours ago,” Magnus said.
“And there is already a battle for the throne.” His gaze moved from one face to another.
“Have you people no sense?” Magnus asked.
The room changed in that instant.
A sudden breeze swept through the council chamber.
It came from nowhere.
The doors were closed.
The windows were sealed.
Blood Castle was high above the city.
And yet the air moved—cold, violent, and smelling faintly of ash and old rain.
Papers scattered across the table.
A dark vortex opened in the centre of the council room.
The edges of it sparked with silver fire.
Shadows folded into themselves.
The lights overhead flickered.
Panic erupted.
“What is that?”
“Guards!”
“Seal the chamber!”
Kyllian stepped forward, ready to place himself between Magnus and whatever hell-spawned nonsense had just invited itself into the room.
Magnus raised one hand.
“It’s okay…It’s just Morvakar.”
Everyone knew the name Morvakar.
The sorcerer who had twisted fate.
He was not dead, but trapped in purgatory.
A place between judgment and oblivion.
A place no living being was supposed to reach.
“Hello, my boy!” came his voice from inside the vortex.
Kyllian did not bother with patience at all.
“Morvakar, you son of a bitch!” He took one furious step toward the vortex.
“If I could see your face, I would punch it clean through.”
A chuckle rolled through the dark opening.
“Ah, still hard-headed, I see.”
“Still an asshole, I see,” Kyllian snapped.
“You could communicate? All this time?”
The vortex shimmered.
The voice sighed. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“You wound me, Alpha King.”
Magnus rubbed his fingers against his temple.
“Enough.”
“Magnus,” Morvakar said, his voice losing its teasing edge.
“It’s time.”
Every gaze turned toward Magnus.
“It’s time for what?” Councilman Darius asked, stepping forward.
Magnus did not answer immediately.
He looked at the vortex then at the council then sighed.
“I have to go.”
The room exploded again.
“Go where?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Your Highness—”
“This is absurd.”
“You cannot leave Blood City now.”
Magnus ignored all of them.
Councilman Darius stepped closer.
“Where?”
Magnus turned his chair slightly, facing them all.
“Into purgatory,” Magnus said.
“With Morvakar.”
Kyllian’s brow rose.
“Excuse me?!”
“Look,” Magnus said, “I cannot explain right now.”
“You damn well can,” Kyllian snapped.
“Uncle Kyllian—”
“You are going to give me a good reason why we should just watch you go into a portal to the worst place in creation, to go sightseeing with the bastard who broke you.”
Morvakar made a faint offended noise.
“I saved the boy, not that I am bragging..”
“Shut up, wind.” Kyllian snapped.
Magnus looked tired suddenly.
“Magnus,” Kyllian said more quietly, “what have you done?”
Magnus looked toward the vortex, where Morvakar waited.
“We have been talking about it for years, Morvakar said he can fix me but not until the time is right.”
“Well, then let him come here to fix you!” Lord Darius snapped.
“He cannot leave,” Magnus said.
“Your Highness, you are the throne’s only hope. We cannot simply allow you to walk into purgatory because a sorcerer with a long record of catastrophic decisions calls for it.”
Morvakar’s voice drifted through the vortex.
“I object to catastrophic.”
Kyllian growled.
“Of course you do. So why is it you have no face I can punch right now.”
Darius stepped closer.
“Blood City has already lost its king. Your brother’s body has not even been laid to rest. The people are frightened. The council is divided. If you leave now—”
“Do you want a handicap for a king?” Magnus snapped.
“A king who cannot defend his people?” he asked.
“A king who needs guards to lift him? A king whose body cannot carry him into battle?”
No one answered.
How could they?
Some lowered their eyes in discomfort.
Others kept their faces carefully blank.
“I have to do this,” Magnus added.
Kyllian turned slowly toward the vortex.
“Why now?” he asked.
“Why not years ago, when he could have been king? Why not when Luna was alive and begging the heavens for mercy? Why now, Morvakar?”
The vortex pulsed, silver light flickering across the walls.
“The time had to be right,” Morvakar said at last.
“Kyllian, there are things I cannot say. Not yet. But Blood City is in trouble. Your kind is in trouble. Only Magnus and the goddess can fix it.”
“Morvakar…” Kyllian began, warning thick in his voice.
The sorcerer interrupted him.
“I promise, he will be fine. I have protected him longer than you know.”
Magnus rolled his chair forward.
“Magnus,” Kyllian called, visibly frightened.
Magnus stopped at the edge of the vortex and turned back.
Kyllian saw Luna’s son.
The child of a woman he had once loved.
Even now, even after she was gone, he could not fail her.
Magnus gave him a small nod.
Then he entered the vortex.
The shadows swallowed his body, leaving the wheel chair behind.
“Wait!” Kyllian shouted, suddenly remembering.
“How about Erin? Morvakar!”
But the vortex collapsed inward with a sharp crack of silver light.
Then it was gone.
The chamber returned to its earlier calm.
For three full seconds, no one spoke.
Then, naturally, another argument erupted.
“What happens now?”
“Who governs?”
“We cannot tell the public!”
“We must tell the public!”
“Summon Damien!”
Kyllian closed his eyes.
Bloody vampires.
He opened his eyes and looked toward the empty space where the vortex had been.
His thoughts were no longer only with Magnus.