“I’ll think of something,” Thal murmurs, a far-away look in his eyes. He rises, brushing off his pants. “Thanks, Verity.”
Verity starts, surprised to hear him say her name rather than call her Bloodbane. She nods. “You’re welcome.”
“How much longer do you need to make the web?” I ask as Thal strides away.
“I don’t know.” Verity looks pained and she rubs her temples. “I’m getting better, but I can’t guarantee when I will have it.”
I know she's right, but I wish it was different. Last night was pleasant, despite our circumstances, and I had high hopes for the morning. I don't know what I was thinking. We've left the warm connection of last night to our memories and today is a new day. Today is all about surviving and saving the Fae realms from the hunger of the Shades. I can only hope Verity is strong enough to do what must be done and that we live long enough to buy her time to do it. I nod, steeling my eyes.
“Do what you need to do, rest if you must.” I eye Freia behind Verity. “But keep your distance from her. We don’t want to release another evil on the world when we’re struggling to defeat another.”
Verity nods, eyes slipping closed with exhaustion. “We can do it, Altair.”
Her words are empty of feeling and hollow. But I nod along and force a smile. I rise, letting Verity return to her spell-casting while Thal and I plan a defense. I pretend her words mean something, that they're real. But I still feel fear in the back of my mind and ever-present phantom. Countless Shades, I think numbly. And only five of us between them and the world. I don't like our odds.
Chapter 16
Verity
The strain of the magic flooding through me makes my fingers tremble. I dig my heels into the baked earth, back bent with the effort. Sweat beads on my brow and I feel a dull ache throbbing in my lower back. From my hands, tendrils of white thread float, entwining together to make a thicker, unbreakable rope. The cord drifts away from me, towards a rune I carved into the ground with a dagger just a few hours ago. The rune is a slash of lines, violent and demanding—a visual of my own desperate need to complete the spell.
Above it, the white threads of magic coil and braid together to make a dome-like prison. It’s almost a perfect copy of Freia’s, only twice the size. I hope it’s large enough to trap the Shades, but if I make it any larger I risk losing my grasp on the magic. I can already feel my shaky hold on it slipping as my body grows more and more exhausted. In a perfect world, I would have spent weeks building this prison and studying the spell. As it is, I’ve only had a day.
The invisible sun overhead is setting, light sinking down below the flat horizon. I grimace as the spell falters and one of my threads snaps in half. Licking my dry lips, I rebuild it. It takes twice the effort. At my feet lies a pool of dried blood. In the beginning, Serus and I cut my forearms, hoping the blood magic would bolster this spell. It did for a short time, but now all the strength has to come from me.
Serus sits stoically nearby, watching the prison come together with sharp eyes. I groan as my head begins to ache. I need rest and an entire river to drink. I wonder if the Motabilem River ever makes a surprise stop in the Ether. The trembling of my fingers is becoming more like shaking now, evident and worrying. I grit my teeth and wrestle the magic back into my control.
“You need more strength,” Serus says as his amber eyes dart over me.
“I would need the Hulk,” I pant.
He stares unamused. "Can you finish it? You're close."
“I’ll finish it,” I growl.
Serus falls silent and I know he won’t bother me again. He’s checked on me intermittently and I know he means well but the distraction makes the spell even more exhausting. I stare up at the peak of the dome, to the small space where the last cords of the spell are binding together. This is the last stretch, I tell myself. I pull even more magic to me, until my body is brimming with it and it feels as if the very air is vibrating. I hold my breath as the final thread floats on an invisible wind up to the dome and wraps itself around the other chords, completing the prison. When the cords look secure, I send my magic over it, searching for weaknesses. Repairing weak spots is a pain-staking process and by the end of it, my vision is going hazy.
My arms collapse to my sides, feeling like gelatin when the last weak cord is bolstered by more magic. My body is shaking and weak. I drop to my knees beside the pool of my dried blood and then keel over onto the dirt. My cheek presses into the hot earth and the dust fills my lungs with each breath.
“It’s done,” I breathe, reminding myself. “It’s done.”
Serus pads towards me silently and his shadow falls over my eyes. “Well done,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “You weaved one of the most complex spells in existence, and it looks decent.”
“Decent.” I chuckle but it sounds more like a wheeze. It’s a compliment, coming from Serus. He simply doesn’t understand humans, but he tries.
I hear the crunch of dirt beneath boots and I recognize the gait as Altair. My heart twinges and I almost lift a hand to brush the dirt from my hair before I remember that I’m too exhausted to move and that I truly don’t care. He comes to a stop at my side and crouches. I smile weakly as his lean face comes
