Page 20 of Forged in Flame and Shadow

Sensic magic. It has to be.

I desperately call up my training, throwing into place the steel wall Leon taught me about, but I don’t have faith it will last long. I need to get out of here.

Backing away, I turn and run for the door.

More books fly out of the shelves in front of me, blocking my path. I think of safety—the thing I long for most in the world at this moment—and feel an immense tug as my orbital magic surges within me. It spins the books around me and throws them out of my way.

My path cleared, I dart to the left between another row of bookshelves. If I can get out of his line of sight, he won’t be able to use his magic to block me, and I’ll have time to conjure mine.

I stand still, listening carefully for his footsteps rustling through the parchment now littering the floor. At the same time, I reach again for my orbital magic. I’ll need to use a fair bit of it for what I’m planning, but I remember what Gallis has said time and time again in my training. I have the strength—I just need to make sure I’m in control of it.

The rustling footsteps get closer, moving toward the end of the row I’m standing in.

Three…two…one.

The fae comes around the corner, and I release my magic. Two of the huge bookshelves to my right shudder as they respond to my pull. He looks up at the movement, and for a brief moment, I see those hungry, black eyes flicker, his own brown irises returning again in his panic.

He tries to save himself with his aesteri magic, but it’s no match for mine, fluttering uselessly like a butterfly in the way of a charging bull. The shelves crash down, one on top of the other, blocking the doorway, but also pinning him up to his neck.

The noise that comes from him is a horrible, bubbling gasp, and he coughs, splattering blood across the spilled books and papersurrounding him. He’s dying, I realize, and I glance desperately to the door, wondering if I should run for help.

As I open my mouth to shout, the fae rasps something. I step closer, trying to make out what he’s saying.

“The fall of the faithless…transforms us…the fall of…the…fa…”

His words peter out as all the air leaves his body. Then his eyes fall shut.

Leon

I shove my shoulder against the doors to the library’s side room. Of course I’ve known exactly where Ana is at all times in this place, including her visits to the Lyceum’s collection of books. But I’d thought it was harmless, that she’d be safe in the stacks of scrolls and old tomes. I thought that right up until the young mage I had keeping an eye on her came running, saying there was some kind of commotion in the room where Ana was last seen.

I throw my full weight against the thick wood standing between me and her, but it won’t budge. With a grunt of frustration, I summon my terrial power. The ground beneath the doors rumbles and splits open, their frame warping and splintering. It takes seconds for the doors to buckle, pulled off their hinges by their own weight. I yank them out of the way, finally seeing what was blocking them: a huge bookshelf.

Ana stands on the other side of it, and my heart skips a beat. She’s covered in cuts, little rivulets of blood dripping down her face and neck, staining her sleeves red. I vault over the shelvesto reach her just as my unit crowds into the library behind me, summoned by the mage I sent to find them.

She doesn’t fight me as I take hold of her chin, gently lifting it to examine her wounds. There’s so many of them, but they’re tiny—too small to be made by a normal weapon. The sight of them sends hot rage roaring through me, and when I speak, my voice is a growl.

“Who did this to you?”

She points downward. I turn to see a man’s corpse, crushed under fallen shelves. Despite my anger, there’s room for a surge of pride when I realize she must be responsible. I bend down for a closer look at the fae, but I don’t recognize him.

My soldiers help me move the shelves to search him as Ana explains what happened.

“He just attacked me out of nowhere. I think he was waiting to get me on my own, and then he used his magic to try to disorient me so he could grab me.”

“He had a knife,” Eryx notes, pulling it from a sheath concealed beneath the fae’s shirt.

Ana shakes her head. “Why didn’t he use it? He got close enough at one point, and if he’d just snuck up on me in the first place, I don’t think I’d have had time to defend myself.”

The idea shakes me at my core—because she’s right. This fae could have easily used the element of surprise to strike before she could do anything about it. It sickens me to think how easily he could have ripped her away from me.

“He must’ve not wanted to kill you.” Alastor says what I’m thinking. “Whatever he wanted, he needed you alive.”

“What in the gods!” A fae stands in the mangled doorway, wearing the dark blue robes identifying him as one of the senior mages, and his face is rapidly turning purple with indignation. “What have you done to the library?”

He ignores us, and the body on the floor, and focuses on Ana. From his look of disgust, it’s obvious he doesn’t know, or simply doesn’t care, who she is.

“Who let this witless human into our collection?”

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