Page 76 of What Lies Within Masks & Shadows

The curse from the stars gifted at his birth. Powers of illusions. Of thieving thoughts. The curse of location and an ability to mask an entire world in a seal of protection—or use it as an invisible weapon.

His magic surged. Bursting and rearranging what was reality and what lurked inside the intermedial. Unlike imagination, thiswasreal. By powers of location, his power hurled him into a picture-play of Zyllyryon’s landscape, deep in his subconscious.

Garrik transcended through it all, as if flying on the wings of a thousand sky creatures. Sweeping over the route from his camp to Brennus’s, in pursuit of answers.

On a vivid, grassy hilltop, his sentries’ faces appeared as if they were standing directly next to him, without the knowledge of his presence. Magic pushed him forward through the forest beyond. Ash trees, woodland creatures, coarse moss, tall grass, and stones flooded his mind as he persisted forward. The stinging scent of sage burned his senses on the breeze.

Something outside the tent disturbed his focus. His body trembled in reality, rattling his exploration across time. Garrik balled his hand into a fist and clamped his eyes with more force.

An impenetrable shield encompassed the room, freeing him of distraction beyond its walls.

Then, he was flying again, over a loose pebbled road, passing the sentries that guard the Raven’s encampment. He weaved through the grid of dark purple tents, passing the structure that was Brennus’s, knowing Thalon and Aiden would not be there.

Thalon.His focus deepened, leaning forward in his chair, ignoring how the fabric of his tunic uncomfortably shifted on his skin.

Garrik’s mind raced through the tents of the High King’s army until he landed on one tent among the thousands. Thalon’s magic … not only could Garrik feel it, but like every Mystic, it carried its own marker. Thalon’s cast a golden hue around the tent, much like the hues of a city with its fires burning through the night, casting a glow into the sky.

Thalon was in there. So, Aiden would be too.

Inside.

Garrik gripped his glass with such intensity, that it shattered to the ground.

He saw Aiden. Bleeding and bandaged. Unmoving on a cot.

Ozrin’s scarlet robe was an intelligent choice for a healer. Blood did little to stain it; it was already that color. The extent of Aiden’s blood loss was unknown as those wrinkled hands worked tirelessly to close wounds and scrape out burning, steaming flesh from the oozing poison of the gamroara. Weary brown eyes were meticulously attentive to the hole in Aiden’s right side, administering a vial of milky liquid over ashen flesh as gray as Ozrin’s long hair.

The High Fae elder male was calm-faced, which allowed Garrik some reassurance. Ozrin’s tells had never failed him in all the years those withered hands had tended to him. And even if the healer’s face wasn’t enough, Aiden’s chest slowly—steadily—rose and fell.

Breathing… He was breathing, butbarely.

With blood-covered arms crossed, Thalon stood stone-faced above Aiden’s head toward the back. It was evident that he had assisted their healer in surgery. Blood soaked into every inch of his tattoos and clothing. So much so that he had discarded the white tunic and only the leather vest remained.

Garrik pictured a wall of blaring sunlight inside, so bright that an ache formed behind his eyes. Thalon’s mind would soon fill with tendrils of his shadows, and they were dancing along the rays as he sought out permission.

A burst of swirling sunstorms receded, opening a door that Garrik’s shadows drifted through before the wall was resurrected.

Shifting in his stance, Thalon closed his golden eyes and met Garrik there.

Aiden?

Thalon’s voice was clear as if they were shoulder to shoulder.Holding on. He’s lost a lot of blood, but the gamroara missed major organs. Ozrin was able to stop the spread of poison. If Aiden survives the night, Ozrin is optimistic for a full recovery,but it won’t be easy. Aiden has a long road ahead. Weeks, maybe months. Shit, Garrik, he’ll need to return to Galdheir.

Fuck.

Garrik forced a swallow, gripping the armrest of his chair.I have sent six guardsmen. Inform them to escort Aiden and remain until he is recovered or they are relieved. Return to camp. Find me when you arrive.

Yes, sire.Thalon paused, adjusting nervously on his feet.Are you … alright, brother?The words were carefully offered, delicately handled as if at any moment, an explosion would detonate.

A slithering, phantom touch trailed across his shoulder and down the swell and dips of his muscled chest, knowing the meaning behind Thalon’s words. Knowing his Guardian’s intentions, but also knowing himself. But if he letthattouch affect him, if he let it settle into his mind like it did his body…

Garrik shuddered it away, Smokeshadows whorled around his palm, producing another knuckle’s worth of amber liquid in crystal. He lifted it to his lips, anticipating the welcome burn to sting his throat.I will see you soon, until then…

Every icy vein thrummed with static energy, pulsing in waves as a shield cascaded across Zyllyryon, toweling around that very tent. Around Ozrin, Aiden, Thalon, and the soldiers that Thalon had brought with them.

No one can enter without my allowance. Hurry back, Realmpiercer.

Like a hand reaching, Thalon began,Garr?—

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