Page 144 of The Demon Tide

Lukas focuses on the Shadow magic streaming against the tight shield he’s set around his lines. The same magic that’s edging up against his mind and graying his vision.

You didn’t count on my superior shielding abilities, did you, Marcus?Lukas stealthily considers.

You’re not the only clever one, you zealot bastard.

Forcibly slowing his breathing, Lukas closes his eyes and concentrates as he extends his shielding power out over the gray line of power Vogel has tethered to his lines.

Seconds bleed into minutes and minutes into hours.

He concentrates harder as his vision grays and his sense of time running out intensifies, sending his shielding power out further and further along Vogel’s Shadow leash. A mental map of the magic Vogel has branched out over the entire hive begins to emerge, the network of power too huge and entrenched for Lukas to take down, even with a wand.

But he doesn’t need the whole hive.

Drawing his shielding power back, he sends a slim thread of it out over one of Vogel’s branching tethers, weaving around it silently.

To the nearest scorpio.

Lukas slinks his magic through the scorpio’s head and thorax, then into its powerful forelimb. Sweat cloaking his back, his teeth gritted so hard his molars sting, Lukas exhales, rough and hard, as he forces his will into the scorpio.

Slowly, the scorpio turns its head toward Lukas, the creature’s forelimb twitching, before the shield-connection snaps off and the beast goes stone-still once more.

A vengeful satisfaction rises in Lukas as he pants from the effort.

Two can wield this Shadow.

Let down your guard once, Marcus. Just once, he seethes as he readies himself to send out his shielded earth magic once more.

And I’ll be waiting for you.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

XISHLONTHRALL

Elloren Grey

Voloi, Noilaan

Eastern Realm

Xishlon

I hug my cousin’s waist tight as we soar out of the sublands tunnel toward the Voloi Mountain Range’s pinnacle, our rune skiff zooming into the cobalt predawn sky. My heart flies into my throat as I take in the number of military skiffs hovering at the base of the mountain, a more intense panic striking through me when my eyes flit down toward our skiff.

We’ve disappeared.

Or rather, Or’myr’s camouflaging spell has us blending in with the purple stone of the mountain’s rough peak so exactly it’s as if we’ve vanished against it. Struggling to wrap my mind around the illusion of our bodies being propelled through the air with nothing beneath us, I tighten my grip around Or’myr’s torso.

“Don’t look down,” Or’myr suggests over his shoulder. “Focus on a high point instead.”

I swallow and pin my attention on the fading stars sprinkled across the sky even as worry hums through me over what will happen to everyone if they’re taken into custody.

Eventually, we round a bend in the mountain range and the multitiered city of Voloi comes into view, the predawn sky rapidly brightening to azure in the East. Swooping upward, I flinch as an explosion of bright purple light flashes around us. A small two-story dwelling shivers into being just under the mountain’s apex and my brow flies up at the sight of my cousin’s fantastical Vonor. It’s cut into the stone much like Fain’s estate, its circular tower forming its top story, runes marked over its surface.

Or’myr guides the skiff to a smooth landing on his Vonor’s lower terrace and we disembark and cross the terrace’s violet stone, striding toward a dark plum wooden door. He grabs the lantern hung beside it and I follow him into a small foyer, then up a spiraling staircase. As we ascend, I take in the finely wrought landscapes hung on the walls: deep-violet pencil renderings of the view, most of a romantic nature—impressionistic storms, ethereal, misty mornings, moonlit nights—all marked with Or’myr’s signature.

The staircase leads into a cluttered tower room, and my wand hand reflexively tightens with want. Or’myr’s Vonor is a veritable indoor violet forest. Sanded deep-purple trees are set into the walls. Their branches cover the ceiling and frame the tower’s semicircle of arching windows, which afford a panoramic view of the tiered city below as well as the massive Vo River beyond, the distant Wyvernguard’s two walkway-linked vertical islands unnervingly in view. More branches frame stained-glass amethyst doors leading to a small stone balcony.

My gaze darts around the multitude of shelves set into the trees’ nooks, holding countless books as well as a variety of scientific equipment, scores of purple-hued gems, myriad art supplies, and a variety of purple wands and runic weapons.

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