Page 80 of The Shadow Wand

Grief slices into me, triggering a longing for my brothers so raw that it sends an ache through me. I stare down at the luminescent flower cupped in my palm, my grief rapidly morphing into a mounting outrage that focuses in like a lightning strike on this potent religious symbol of Gardnerian power.

Gardneria. The monster about to consume the world.

A troubled fire kicks up along my affinity lines as I close my fist around the flower, crush it, then cast it to the ground, the pulp’s glow now a muted midnight blue. Eyes narrowed, I peer back toward the Council’s packed Main Hall.

Blue torches on long iron poles stand around the raised dais at the hall’s far end, the orchestra that was there now absent, the music gone. Behind the dais, a huge Gardnerian flag hangs from the dark Ironwood trees set into the walls, the entire scene bathed in flickering blue torchlight.

I weave my way to the hall’s open doorway and slip inside.

Splayed before me is a sea of black-clad Gardnerians, packed together beneath the hall’s high domed ceiling. The ceiling is supported by Ironwood tree branches, a dense canopy of leaves painted on the dome’s curved surface.

“Vogel’s bringing back order to the world,” a Mage before me murmurs reverentially to the Gardnerians that surround him, as I catch snippets of hushed, jubilant conversation throughout the room.

“Manifesting the Ancient One’s light...”

“Ensuring safety for our children...”

“Beating back the tide of evil. Getting the invaders off of Mage soil.”

“Ushering in the Blessed Reaping Times...”

Resentment claws at me as I listen to them spin their religious delusions, all of them so sheltered from the misery they’re supporting.

An image of Gardnerian mobs rampaging through Verpacia assaults my mind. My fellow kitchen worker, Bleddyn, lying half-conscious in the shadows of an alley. Olilly’s bloodied face and mutilated ears. Little Fern’s terror as she clutched at her doll, guarding her toy’s pointed ears.

Andras’s small son, Konnor, hiding his face against Brendan’s chest the day his Lupine parents were murdered. Diana’s entire people slaughtered.

Embers spark to a slow burn inside my lines as I lurk in the shadows of the Ironwood trees at the back of the room and beat down the desire to thrust my wand hand against the trunk at my back and burn this entire hall to the ground.

I pull in one deep, quavering breath, then another, and let Chi Nam’s steadying words echo in the back of my mind.

Gather yourself, child.

But I’m in so far over my head, there’s no clear way out.

I look to the leaves painted on the domed ceiling far above me as both fury and desperation swell. Aislinn is somewhere in Valgard and wandfasted to Damion Bane. My beloved friend is caught in the jaws of an unimaginable nightmare that could have been mine.

I’ll come for you, Aislinn, I vow, sending the pledge throughout Valgard with the force of a solemn promise. I swear it on the Ancient One. Somehow, I will get you out of here.

My thoughts turn to Sparrow, also trapped here in Valgard along with Effrey.

Sparrow, who saved my life this evening.

I’ll help you get out too, Sparrow.Both you and Effrey.

There’s movement onto the dais, and I straighten as everyone’s attention snaps toward the front of the hall. Excitement ripples through the air.

A procession of Level Five Mage soldiers streams in to line the back of the dais, followed by a throng of military commanders, Lukas and his father among them, followed by priests and Mage Council members, all assembling themselves in a long arc in front of the soldiers.

Marcus Vogel sweeps into the room and onto the dais, two Council envoys striding in behind him, and the room explodes into a frenzy of veneration.

The cheers are deafening, the Mages around me crying out his name, a woman beside me breaking into joyful tears as she calls out, “May the Ancient One’s Blessing be upon you forever!” again and again.

I’m unprepared for the furious emotion that overtakes me as I’m faced with High Mage Marcus Vogel for the first time since Diana and Jarod’s people were massacred. Affinity fire roars through my lines, my wand hand tingling then burning hot, and I pull it into my sleeve, fearing my hand might take on a molten glow.

Vogel steps to the front of the dais and raises one hand as if in blessing, and the massive crowd grows preternaturally silent and still, all eyes looking to their Blessed High Mage. Vogel’s features are raptor-sharp as he scans the crowd, his priestly robes black as a charred forest and marked with the white bird.

In his lowered hand, he holds a dark gray wand.

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