Page 33 of Magic in My Bones

Ren's fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, clinging to me. “I don't want to be a sacrifice. I don't want to be claimed by some eldritch god.” His voice wavered, thick with unshed tears.

I drew back just enough to cup his face in my hands, tilting his head up so that our eyes met. In the warm glow of the candles, Ren's eyes were pools of darkness, shimmering with fear and a desperate, fragile hope. “Listen to me, Ren Wickens. You are not going to be anyone's sacrifice. Not on my watch. We will find a way to remove this mark, and I will be by your side the entire time. No one, not even a god, has the right to decide who you are. You are your own man.”

Ren blinked rapidly, a single tear escaping to trail down his cheek.

I brushed away the tear with my thumb, my touch lingering on the soft skin of his cheek. Ren leaned into the caress, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opened them again, there was a newfound determination burning in their depths, a spark of resilience that took my breath away.

“Thank you, Dorian,” he whispered. “For being here. For believing in me.”

“Always, my dear boy. Always.”

We stood there a moment longer, foreheads pressed together, sharing breath and strength. In that sacred space, with the remnants of the ritual still hanging in the air, it felt as if something had shifted between us. The bond we shared had deepened with an unspoken acknowledgment of the feelings we had both been dancing around for so long.

But exploring those feelings would have to wait. We had work to do, research to conduct, and a plan to formulate. Ren's safety and freedom were the priority.

Reluctantly, I stepped back, my hands sliding from Ren's face to rest on his shoulders. “We should clean up the ritual space and head to the library. We have a lot of ground to cover if we're going to find a way to break this mark.”

Ren nodded, squaring his shoulders with a determined set to his jaw. “Let's get to work.”

As we began clearing away the ritual components, I couldn't help but notice how naturally Ren moved through the space, handling centuries-old artifacts with practiced care. His fingers traced the spines of ancient books with a reverence that spoke of true understanding. Even the spirits seemed to recognize something in him, a scholar's soul wrapped in a necromancer's power. The candles cast his shadow large against the book-lined walls, and for a moment, I could see the powerful mage he was becoming.

13

Threading the Needle

Ren

I jerked awake justin time to keep my forehead from hitting the book in front of me. Exhausted, I shook my head and tried again to focus on the dusty tome. One more chapter. Just a little more research and then I’d try to get some sleep.

Yet as I scoured the faded pages for any mention of the cult of Dagon, the words began to blur together and my eyelids grew heavy again.

The words swam before my tired eyes, ancient references to blood rituals and sacrificial rites melding into an incomprehensible haze. I blinked hard, rubbing my face vigorously in an attempt to banish the fatigue that clung to me like a shroud. The rune on my forehead seemed to throb in time with my exhaustion-induced headache, a constant reminder of the mystery I was desperate to unravel.

A week had passed since our unsettling encounter with Erasmus, yet his cryptic words still echoed in my mind.

When a soul knows its own name, its true shape, and finds itself mirrored in the heart of another, it becomes a force not easily claimed.

The words haunted me, taunting me. I couldn’t make sense of them, and I couldn’t find any reference to what he was talking about in any of the library’s books, either. I felt like I was grasping at shadows, chasing whispers that vanished like smoke whenever I drew near.

With a sigh, I pushed back from the table, my chair scraping loudly against the library's worn wooden floor. The sound echoed in the cavernous space, and I winced, glancing around to see if I had disturbed anyone. But the library was empty, the only other presence one of the library’s many regular ghosts hovering over near the applied curses section. The spirit ignored me as I walked by, my backpack slung on my back.

As I stepped out into the crisp autumn night, the cool air helped to clear my head. I breathed deeply, letting the scent of fallen leaves and distant bonfires fill my lungs. The campus was quiet, most of the students already ensconced in their dorms or eagerly preparing for the Samhain masquerade ball on Monday. The campus was closing for a whole week to celebrate the holiday and kicking things off with the masquerade. I still wasn’t sure I was going, but at least the break meant I could focus on my research instead of trying to do it between classes.

I trudged back to my own room, my mind still racing with unanswered questions. I pushed open the door to my dorm room, still lost in thought, only to be greeted by an unexpected sight. There stood Luca, my roommate and closest friend at Blackstone, bedecked in an elaborate costume of vines, flowers, and what looked suspiciously like actual tree bark.

“Ren!” Luca exclaimed, his face lighting up as he turned to me, a wreath of small blossoms perched precariously on his horns. “What do you think? I'm going as a dryad for the masquerade!”

I blinked, taking in the sight before me. Luca's gentle features were alight with excitement as he gestured to his ensemble, greenery rustling with each movement. Despite my exhaustion and the weight of my thoughts, I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“It's...wow, Luca. You've really outdone yourself,” I said, setting my backpack down on my bed.

“What are you going as?” he asked.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. “I don't think I'm going to go to the masquerade. I have too much research to do, and I'm no closer to figuring out this rune or what Erasmus meant.”

Luca's expression softened, and he moved to sit beside me, the bed creaking slightly under our combined weight. “Ren, you've been working yourself to the bone. You need a break before you burn out completely.”

I wanted to argue, to insist that I couldn't afford to take a break, not when the answers I sought seemed tantalizingly close yet still out of reach. But as I met Luca's gentle green eyes, I felt my resolve waver.

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