“Victor Halrow?” Ambrose questioned. “He is aware that you are currently bound?”
“Yeah, he came for me.”
“He would have taken you to Morien. In your current state, Morien would have killed you. He wants to take your form, to wield your power as his, your lifeforce. He cannot remain forever as a resurrected being. He has been stabilizing himself with necromantic cores, tearing them from other necromancers and murdering them in the process. He has failed the last three times due to interference from Remnant. None of those can stabilize him for very long. He needs yours. You are bound in blood, father and son.”
A chill shot down my spine.
This was… beyond twisted.
“What of Corvin? We know he passed something to Morien from the Veil.”
“You are asking me if he can be resurrected using enough black magic to infect the Valley?”
Ketheron startled me as he suddenly grasped my hand.
I stroked his fingers, trying to offer at least some comfort, despite how heavy this was for him, how much it was bringing forth his horrific trauma in so many ways.
“No. He can’t be brought back.”
“He struck a deal with Morien.”
“Yes, to pass that portion of your core through to him. Corvin used black magic to enable that, all so he could hold it over your father, force him to pull him from the Valley. But it can’t be done. Corvin is learned, but he is not a necromancer. More than that, the only necromancer he has ever learned from was your father, who told him only what he wanted him to hear. He skewed the truth of what a necromancer can do. Also, Morien is severely tainted by black magic, so he cannot touch the Valley for long without it corrupting his spells. Any time he tries to touch it, he’s poisoning it and himself. He won’t risk that for Corvin. Especially when Corvin is a rival to him. Both of them want to be top dog. They won’t share the seat of power.”
Ketheron released a huge breath of relief.
Ambrose shifted, swinging his head around. “Something is coming on the outside. I cannot remain.”
In the next second, the swirling blackness slipped away and our surroundings of the cove and dark beach returned.
And Ambrose was gone.
Already.
In a fucking blink.
Ketheron spun then, his gold magic flaming on his palms as he scanned the immediate area frantically, searching.
“What is it?” I asked. “What’s coming?”
“Dark Fae. And a vampire.” His eyes narrowed. “Not just any vampire, an—”
Explosions of magical light erupted just feet from us, the Dark Fae materializing. Twenty of them.
And then a violent wind tore through the area.
That wind morphed into a fucking tornado in seconds.
It whipped around the hostiles who fired their magic wildly, but to no avail.
And then they were screaming as the tornado hauled a handful of them into the air.
I jolted as their necks snapped.
The swirling dissipated, and then the tornado became rushes of walls of wind tearing through them all.
Rapid-fire neck snaps happened in quick succession.
Several of them shrieked and lurched, then their hearts were ripped from their bodies.
