Page 59 of The Illuminated
“This is all a bunch of delusional nonsense,” Lucius said, but Gregory grabbed Katherine and dragged her to the altar. A cloud of desperation dispersed above Lucius’s head, transforming into the same quiet determination from months prior.
“I’m sorry, my love,” Gregory said, but there was nothing in his voice but a biting cold—an everlasting winter of need and hunger.
The flames grew taller, and a darkened smoke entered the space, slithering around each witch’s ankles. It was pain and loss manifested, and in its depths lay the screams of slaughtered witches, scorched lands, and stolen and enslaved children. It was the realm’s shadow, so overwhelming and plentiful it had taken on a life of its own at Angelina’s direction. Like a poltergeist or a demonic entity, it traveled and searched for a place to anchor like a parasite.
Angelina handed Gregory a blade.
“Wait,” Lucius said. “It won’t work this way.”
Angelina smiled, raising a brow. “Perhaps not.”
Gregory looked between the two of them. “Explain yourself, boy,” he bellowed. His whole body twitched with delirious anticipation, like a wolf just before biting into the flesh of a rabbit’s neck.
“You don’t truly love her. The only person you love is me, your only son,” Lucius said bravely. “You know it’s true.”
Lucius, no,Katherine begged.
Gregory weighed his words, looking to Angelina.
“He’s right,” she said, something dangerous flickering in her eyes.She’d already seen the shift in the smoke, imperceptible to the others but clear to her heightened sight. She’d seen the way it snaked around Lucius like it were already his pet.
“Once I am a god, I will resurrect you. I will have that power,” Gregory said insistently,but no one in the clearing believed him. He pushed Katherine away. “Offer yourself to me, like Isaac to Abraham in the human Bible, lay upon this altar—and I promise you will feel no pain. I promise I will bring you back one day, my son.”
Lucius slowly walked to his father, his back straight and eyes forward. “Do what you must.”
“No. Lucius, stop,” Katherine sobbed, but she was ignored.
“Just like your father. Brave and intelligent and—” Gregory faltered as Lucius lay before him, motionless. His hand shook as he lowered the blade, his frenzied eyes growing teary. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Let me help,” Lucius said, grabbing his shaking father’s hand and pulling the blade down to his throat.
“Gregory,” Katherine shrieked. “Please don’t. You’re unwell,” she begged as her sobs turned hysterical.
Gregory’s eyes widened for a moment, leaning over Lucius’s body as his face contorted with conflicting emotions. In his moment of weakness, his grip loosened. Lucius took advantage of his lapse to tear the blade from his hand and swiftly slam it to the hilt into his father’s chest. Lucius then shoved him with a burst of magick, and Gregory fell back into the grass as he clutched the handle of the blade lodged in his heart.
Katherine screamed, scrambling to them. But the smoke was thick and growing tall all around, channeled from each corner of the realm by Angelina and her new form of magick.
Lucius could taste the smoke’s depths now—the same well of power that had nearly eaten his father away to madness—and it felt like strikes of lightning, their crackling electricity flooding through his veins and melting away all pain, all uncertainty, all weakness. He was no longer powerless, and if he continued… he’d never feel powerless again. His father and his men would all be dead, and he could fashion the world into something better than the horrible one they’d imagined. He could be a savior for all—a King who was loved rather than feared.
He wrenched the knife from his father’s chest, watching in a morbid fascination as the light drained from his hateful, dark eyes.He’d wanted to do that for a very, very long time. And thus, his own shadow had awakened, eclipsing his ego like a cloud over a full moon. He knew what he had to do.
He looked to Angelina, who nodded.
“Yes. You must. It’s too late now—not claiming this power would mean it will go to someone else, like one of your father’s comrades. They’re coming here now. They know they’ve been betrayed. They feel what we’re doing, and they’ve come here to kill you both. Either way, she is dead. But you don’t have to be.”
“I’m sorry mother. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Lucius choked out,his eyes brimming with the last tears he would cry for a very, very long time.
“You already have. You’ve saved me every day of your life,” she said, stroking his cheek. She leaned her head against his, holding still even as blood began to pour from her neck and mouth like a gruesome fountain.
The blade fell to the ground, as did Katherine’s body. Lucius lay on the altar, now slick with his own mother’s blood, and he waited.
His body shook as Angelina resumed her chants, beckoning the smoke forward. Like a commander of the realm’s winds, she blew a breath into the chilly night air, and the shadows descended upon Lucius’s body and soul in a swarm of screams and whispers. It entered his mouth. As he convulsed, his eyes went white.
The split that had already begun inside Lucius’s psyche was now complete. The moon was fully eclipsed by the shadow—by everything hidden and repressed and secretly desired.
Everything went dark.
Soon a voice emerged from the void, coaxing Lucius.
