Page 170 of Amethyst and Iron
But in this particular moment, staring at those cores, that was rooted in the fact that three necromancers had died, that the reason these cores were here now was because they’d been struck down—by Morien, no less.
The remaining scientist joined Remnant on my right side, yellow magic sweeping over the length of my torso. I sucked in a breath at the freezer-burn sensation. He kept going until there was a two-inch thick yellow shimmering line from beneath my pecs all the way down to my navel.
Remnant startled me as he grasped my hand in a blur.
And then the three with the gems thrust them into the line, driving them with magical force and the entry point provided with the yellow magic into my fucking body.
I roared and bucked violently on the table.
Blazing fire, just like Remnant had warned, tore through every part of me.
Then stabbing pain joined the party and I caught sight of both my arms tinting gray, the desiccation already starting.
I choked out a gasp as it spread faster than I’d ever seen before, shooting up my arms, over my chest, headed for my heart.
“Sire, it’s happening too quickly,” one of the sorcerers warned. “We need to stop the procedure.”
Remnant leaned down beside me, having to release my hand because the fingers of my right hand were desiccating, so much so that I couldn’t even feel them.
He touched my hair to get my attention—maybe as comfort too, I couldn’t tell right now—and told me calmly, “I can authorize them to stop, however, the cores will be rendered useless. Or, it can be sped up, but it will be—”
“Unimaginable… agony?”
“Yes, I am afraid so.”
“Do… it,” I rasped. “Finish… it.”
He addressed his people. “Make haste.”
In the next moment, I felt a massive surge of their collective magic.
The cores being buried within me raged like fucking infernos.
The pain… I couldn’t… it was everywhere.
I was panting, sweat pouring all over me.
And for the first time ever, I wasn’t sure I was actually going to survive the battle.
“Motherfucker!” I bellowed out into the room, convulsing on the table, raging in the restraints. “Ah! Ah!Ah!”
26
~Velra~
“What’s this about us moving to a frost castle?”
I smiled as Lazriel walked back into the kitchen. He looked a little more relaxed.
As much as any of us could actually be knowing Sylas was going through a worrying necromantic core transplant right now.
Lazriel’s father had sent a feeder to the apartment, both to satiate his hunger and clearly as a means to help calm and soothe him as well.
I’d heard the apartment door lock a few moments ago as Lazriel had finished and sent the guy off—not without having a whole conversation with him, though. They’d been talking for about ten minutes. That was how sweet Lazriel was about feeding, how new to it he was as well. Then again, he’d always been very respectful of people giving themselves to him in any way. He’d been very gentle with me, especially when I’d been struggling to feel safe to connect and see past my trauma enough to move forward with him.
I closed my notebook where I’d been taking down everything Nyx and I had discussed on our call.
With Blackline Protocol in effect, Crossborn hadn’t been able to meet in person and Nyx hadn’t been out in the field as much as he’d liked working on Crossborn Refuge System, which now had three facilities that helped hybrids—bringing them in out of hiding and the proverbial cold, helping them to join supernatural society, providing resources, trauma counseling, opportunities, a whole lot.
