Page 270 of The Sins of Silas

“And Kayin—Ryia—she is in Otacia, trapped by that necromancer bastard.” Torrin clenched his fists. “We have to save her, but how?”

“How was she able to communicate? Even with your blood…” I began. “Dani, do you know anything about what spell he and Kayin performed?”

One of the clerics stepped forward. “I wrote it down—here.”

She handed Dani the piece of parchment, and the Warlock studied the symbols.“Coniungere,”she muttered. “A siphoning spell.” Her eyes flicked up. “This one isn't listed inPotestas Verae Maleficis.I have no idea where they learned such a thing.”

“I need to speak with Lucretia immediately,” Kismet urged. “You were right, Supreme. We have lived in comfort for far too long. Seeing what we saw…” She shuddered. “His power is a plague. One that needs to be eradicated before he takes over everything.”

We all rushed through the passageway and back into the main area of the temple. I had asked if anyone had seen Silas, and I was informed he was in the sanctuary.

I ambled in to see Silas sitting on one of the benches, his head buried in his hands.

I walked over slowly and sat down beside him, my hand on his back.

“This is all such a shock,” I whispered. “Worse than I imagined.”

“It is.” He slowly lowered his hands. “Ulric…he is the necromancer. He is a fucking God.” Silas shook his head. “This whole time, I had been slaughtering those I thought hurt my mother—hurt you—and it turns out that those were the good people. It turns out I was being influenced by the evil one all along. The entire time, I was doing his bidding.” Tears fell down his face. “I…I fucked up.”

“There was no way you could have guessed this, Silas. No possible way.”

“I should've seen it…should have known by his cruelty that something was wrong.” He buried his face in his palms once more. “My poor mother…she would be so ashamed of me.”

“No.” I held his face in my hands, turning him to face me. “She would be soproudof you. After everything you endured, after everything taught to you, you chose right over wrong. Good over bad. Hard over easy.”

“There were many times I did choose wrong, Lena.”

“We have all made mistakes.”

“None like I have.”

“None have endured what you have,” I said sternly and kissed him. “If I can forgive what you have done and am proud of you, then I know Ryia—Kayin—would be, too. I know it.”

He was silent for a while.

“I killed so many of your kind…I killed my grandfather.”

“Igon knew, Silas. He forgave you for a reason.”

His eyes looked to mine in desperation. “How can we save her? How can we…fixher?”

“I don’t know.” I ran my hand along his thigh. “But it’s a good sign she was able to talk to me, able to break free from whatever trance he’s put her in.”

“Does that mean all the puppets we’ve killed…the original soul is still trapped inside them?”

I thought back to Igon in that form, swallowing down the pain. Was he in there? Could we have saved him? “I think it means they must be brought back to life fully.”

Silas dragged his hands down his face. “The problem is, Ulric is the only necromancer.”

“There must be an answer of some kind…something we can find,” I insisted softly. “But that’s something to worry about another day.”

Silas continued to stare at the ground. “I have always been so unworthy of you.”

Just as I went to protest, a voice filled my head.

“Lena.”

My whole body jerked at the sound of Kayin's voice in my head. Silas sat up straight, brows drawn tight.

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