Bleddyn picks up the tiny pearlescent white-bird pendant that is gleaming in the wood dust. She hands it to me, glancing pointedly at my Black Witch figurine. “Best crack that witch’s head open, Ny’laea. You’re going to need all the luck you can get.”

I glance down at the evil statue, then at my glamoured fastlines. Soon, I remind myself as an ache for Lukas rises. Your magic will be freed in a matter of hours. Lie in wait for now and survive.

Then, portal west. And fight your way back to Lukas.

Grimly resolved, I pick up my Black Witch figurine and untie the hammer.

CHAPTER FOUR

WITCH FASTING

Lukas Grey

Shadow hive
One day prior to Xishlon

Elloren.

The name pulses in the back of his mind as Lukas watches Vogel stride toward his Shadow-barred cell, the desire to break free and find her an all-consuming blaze inside him. His focus sharpens on Vogel, hackles rising, dagger sharp, as he takes in Vogel’s greatly altered attire—military blacks instead of the long dark tunic of a Mage Priest.

“Did they kick you out of the priesthood?” Lukas chides as Vogel stops just outside the cell’s wavering bars, his multi-eyed raven perched on his shoulder, six gray-eyed Mage soldiers falling in behind him.

Vogel’s mouth gives the trace of a lift. “I stepped down from my Holy Calling this morn.”

Alarm darts through Lukas, but he forces a smile, his lip swollen from the latest beating. “So...the Magedom finally realized what an unholy beast you are?”

Something lethal flashes in Vogel’s pale eyes, silvery hot. “Bind him,” Vogel orders.

The Mages raise their wands as one and Lukas is hit by a blast of Shadow netting that knocks him to the ground, pinning him there, arms outstretched. Breathing hard, Lukas glares piercingly at Vogel.

Vogel steps straight through the cell’s Shadow bars, then gracefully lowers himself to one knee beside Lukas. He tilts his head, contemplative. “There are other callings as true as the Blessed Priestdom.”

“Unbind me and give me a wand,” Lukas snarls. “And I’ll show you mine.”

Vogel’s gaze narrows. “You tainted my Black Witch.” He says it lightly enough, but Lukas can sense the proprietary spite in it.

“She’s my Black Witch,” Lukas snaps, baring teeth.

“She’s the Magedom’s Black Witch,” Vogel snipes back. “And you turned her against her true calling.” His expression turning eerily calm, he traces his Shadow Wand’s tip over the fastlines on Lukas’s palm. Lukas shivers at the invasive contact, an icy, unnatural sting chasing the Wand’s touch. “And so, the Ancient One has called upon me to rectify this corruption.” Vogel softly begins to sound out a disturbingly unfamiliar spell, and Lukas’s fastlines tint to gray.