Page 161 of Amethyst and Iron
“I’m certain,” I told him. “You just can’t sense him because he always appears at the last moment and shielded by very heavy black magic, and only when we reach the precise spot.”
“All right,” he grunted.
I looked at him in his sweatpants and hoodie, this particular hood overhanging so it covered most of his face. He’d also casta glamor so that the golden fissures that formed jagged patterns all over his skin and radiated a whole lot of light, especially in the darkness, weren’t visible at all. He was the only one of his kind and the fissures were a distinctive aspect to that and therefore a dead giveaway as to who and what he was to anybody who laid eyes on him.
It bothered me that he had to do this—at all.
Those cracks and fissures were him and he should be able to not just show that, but revel in it. Not just around the apartment or within the confines of Haven Initiative, as he did now, but out in the wider world also.
But with these dark times, he saw it as him making himself into a target.
Not for long.
We would change all of that.
“I will safeguard you.”
I swung my head. “What?”
“Your pulse is racing. You are worried. I don’t believeyoucan experience true fear. From what I have researched and gathered about what has happened to you, fear has been bled from you through so much trauma and also isolation. However, you can actually worry. But you do not need to in this case. I am strongest in the world. I will not allow any harm to befall you.”
I usually despised anyone thinking they needed to protect me. And, no, it wasn’t ego, like most people thought it was. It was fucking self-preservation. Maybe the trauma he’d just alluded to as well.
But with Ketheron, the way he delivered those words, I didn’t despise the intent.
“I appreciate it,” I said, patting his arm.
He smiled and we walked in comfortable quiet for a few more feet, before I found myself telling him, “It’s not just being without my magic… the reason you feel my pulse racing.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“It’s… urgh… it’s the fucking black magic.”
“This is about your father?”
I nodded.
“You are not him. He didn’t just succumb to black magic usage, he sought it out. That is known the world over. I have discovered it from several different sources, so it is not just conjecture, Sylas. Also, you do not covet power for power’s sake.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Let me rephrase. Because, yes, you do covet power as a means of control and protection. However, you do not covet it to rule, to dominate, nor to hurt. You right wrongs. You protect the innocent. And you are capable of love, of altering bad habits for the benefit of those you love. Youcare.This man who just happens to be your father is not your mirror. You are a world apart.”
“I see what you’re saying,” I murmured, working to reconcile his words.
He nudged me. “Also, The Shadowed is invested in your recovery and you returning to power. That organization gauges the stability of those who wield great power and you are marked as somebody who can be trusted. So much so that they have worked tirelessly to find a cure to return your might to you.”
I stared out at him. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “You are most welcome.”
We made our way across the narrow strip of coast near the coves to our right then.
A hundred feet in, I choked, tasting that familiar foul shit—the mark of heavy black magic.
Ketheron shuddered, clearly feeling it as well.
I felt a sudden surge and then in our very next steps, everything disappeared and we were immersed in a black void, air swirling around us, yet not touching us.
