Coralis extended a hand, helping Henry to his feet, a black circle of burnt flesh where the ring once resided. “We will take our bumps and bruises, but we will not be defeated,” he said with intensity. “This is not the first time a small legion of Wandbearers has confronted overwhelming odds. We will do this,” he said directly to Henry. “And then we will return to my castle. And you will help me rebuild a powerful council so we will never again be caught flat-footed.”

Henry smiled. But just for a moment.

“Ten minutes.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Dai She rubbed his hands together in giggling glee. He had come a long way from the tortured little boy with the blotched white skin and blistering disposition. All the suffering and shame of his childhood had been locked away—encased in a hardened shell and buried deep inside him. It was a shell filled with really bad mojo. Over the years, he had allowed that shell to open only by the tiniest of cracks. It provided a source of adrenaline in times of need. Not the kind that an athlete would use to win a race, but the kind an evil overlord bent on revenge would tap into.

And now, with only two minutes to go until the vilest moon in centuries would achieve its perigee, he picked that shell fully open. No longer confined, the darkness oozed, puslike, soaking into every fiber of his being. It spread outward, filling him with bitterness, rage … and an undeniable appetite for vengeance.

There was no reason to contain it any longer. He was about to bring this planet to its knees.

And when he was done, he would get rid of that sniveling worm of a self-appointed Wand Master, Markhor. Dai She had no more use for him than a cactus had for water. He would never have what it took to become a true Wand Master and Dai She’s trusted general. Markhor had spent too many years creating relationships with people—creating weaknesses within himself.

But Markhor had served his purpose and, despite his occasional hostility, served it well. And for that, Dai She would reward him with a quick, merciful death.

Speak of the devil, he thought as Markhor strode toward him, glancing at his watch. “One minute.”

Dai She nodded. He checked the positioning of the Corsini Mappaemundi, hovering his stubbly fingers over the surface, unwilling to touch it lest he disturb something before the time was right.

“Thirty seconds.”

Markhor’s voice betrayed his tension. There was no turning back. He had allowed Dai She to use him. Ever since he had occupied this body, Malachai had known that he would have only one chance to draw Coralis out into the open. To see what defenses the Wand Master had left, what kind of network remained of his old empire. Malachai had plans—big plans—and he didn’t want that old fool to get in the way.