Page 25 of Pain Run Rampant

“We’ve all lost something because of him. We can never forget that. If you were to unbind him now, he would annihilate us all.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I’ll never unbind him.”

“And that makes me worry about you even more. It hasn’t been that long, Rey, and he’s already acting as if he owns you, not the other way around. How long until you start to accept it? Until you don’t stop him from, say, tossing me off a cliff?”

That makes me turn toward him and promise him, “That would never happen. I would never let him hurt you or anyone else. I will never let him own me.” I’m a person. No one, not Invictis, not Frederick, not any dick that comes around, can ever own me.

Frederick sighs. “It’s not only Invictis I’ve been watching. I’ve watched you as well. In spite of all that he’s done, you let your guard down around him.”

I want to argue with him, tell him he’s wrong, but I can’t. As much as I hate Invictis, as much as I tell Frederick I’ll never let the bastard own me, I’m not blind. I know I feel things Ishouldn’t—but the same can be said about Frederick, too. He might not be a killer, but we started off with him lying to me. And if, say, something did ever happen between me and Frederick, what Invictis said in my dream back in Pylos was right.

Frederick would get old and die and I wouldn’t age a day. Is that something I can handle?

“I only want what’s best for you,” Frederick whispers. “Nothing good can come from Invictis. You know that.”

As my gaze returns to the fight, I see Invictis launching himself in the air, above the dragon’s head. A sharp, spear-like weapon forms in his hands, and he brings it down upon the dragon, piercing its skull. The dragon freezes up, and then it collapses, slowly disintegrating into nothing, the magical guardian beaten.

Invictis’s feet land on the dirt the moment the dragon dissipates, and he wears a genuine smile. Not a smirk, a full-blown smile—but that smile is replaced by a frown the moment he glances at Frederick and me, as if he doesn’t want anyone else to see him smiling.

Frederick says not a word more as he makes a beeline toward the door on the opposite side of the arena. I wait a moment before hurrying to catch up to him. Invictis doesn’t wait for us; by the time we reach the center of the arena, he’s already waiting for us near it.

It sounded as though Frederick is worried I’ll forget Invictis is a monster, that I’ll someday be okay with him grabbing people by the neck and choking them when they try to show me any sort of physical affection. That won’t happen. I won’t let Invictis off the rails. He’s bound to me, and by God, he’s not going to drive me insane.

That’s the only reason why, once we reach the door and Invictis, I don’t make fun of Invictis for having such a good timebattling that dragon. After a conversation like that, now isn’t the time for jokes.

I push past both men and open the innermost chamber, the first to step inside it. It’s a mirror image of the one in Pylos: a smaller circular room with a stone altar right in the center, where a perfectly-shaped box sits.

Frederick sets his bag down and pulls out a journal and a small piece of charcoal to take an etching of the markings on the altar. I stand a good ten or so feet from the altar, knowing I need to get closer to that box, but also remembering what happened the last time I touched a box like that.

I passed out.

Granted, I also had just lost a lot of blood, which I didn’t do this time, so the end result might not be the same. Still, it’s enough to give me pause.

I don’t need to look to know that Invictis stands beside me, and even though I shouldn’t say a word to him, I do: “It’s hard to imagine a piece of you was inside that box for centuries.” Longer than that, in all honesty. I don’t know how old Laconia is, but old enough that any trace of the great evil its first high empress fought is gone. “Do you know how long you were trapped?”

“No.” His answer comes quickly, and I can tell he doesn’t really want to talk about it.

Doesn’t matter. It’s something we should’ve discussed before, but it can wait until we’re out of this stale air and topside.

I move toward the altar, making sure to give enough space to Frederick so he can continue what he’s doing while I touch the box.

Frederick glances at me, noting my outstretched hand. “Rey, are you certain that’s—” The rest of what he says I don’t hear, mostly because my fingertips brush against the edge of the box and everything goes black.

Chapter Twelve

The aether. I was not supposed to find the aether. The aether is what connects all life, what gives us magic. The lifeblood of Laconia, the lifeblood of the demon itself. Pure and undiluted, it remained that way since the beginning of time—and that’s why it had to change.

The aether was never meant to be mine. Its power was never meant to be split and shared between three empresses, but that’s precisely what the land needed: dilution. The taint would come slowly, but someday in the distant future, it would be enough to change everything.

I was the beginning of that change. You are the culmination.

I don’t know where the voice comes from, or if I hear all that in my head, like a strange, distant memory that suddenly surfaced in my brain even though it doesn’t belong to me, but I find myself standing in an undercroft. I don’t know which one; they all kind of look the same. Aether surrounds me on either side, thick, viscous liquid that apparently is magic in solid form.

The only reason the first high empress became what she was is the aether. The lifeblood of Laconia, it was pure until she found it, until she took some of its power as her own. If it’s connected to all magic, it’s connected to Invictis, too.

It’s his lifeblood. But what the hell does that mean?

“Aurelia,” a familiar voice speaks my name, so calm and gentle I freeze.

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