Page 191 of Rose and Shadows
Here I was holding it in my hands.
Well, levitating it a few inches from my hands.
A fantastical magical object that had been forged like an impossibility.
It pained me that this would be the first and only time.
Ryker had been right—it couldn’t exist much longer.
It was too dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands.
I was pulled from the reverence I was lavishing on it from incessant beeping.
I swung my head to my left where Remnant stood with me on the mountaintop as we awaited Ketheron’s arrival. A translucent film encompassed him, which was the work of hismagic-wielders shielding him temporarily from the sun. It was something he’d used several times when business couldn’t only be conducted at night. He was clad in his leather jacket, a hood hanging low and his metal mask in place, but I could at least make out his eyes from this close range position.
Thick mist hanging heavy surrounded the entire expanse of the snowyMordrek Mountains.It was primarily a Guardian Movement training ground, but we were using it for what needed to be done today because Ryker had imbued it with his defensive power, which turned powerful magics into harmless mist should they rage out of control, something that protected both the environment and the wielder—an out-of-the-box failsafe.
While I was certain I could do this, it did actually bring some comfort.
Repairing the Valley of the Dead was no small thing after all.
In fact, even though Ryker was bogged down with the fallout of the war, he had a shimmering green holoscreen hovering near us, keeping an eye on the situation.
“I thought you said things were in a calmed state for you with The Shadowed in the wake of the war?” I spoke, closing the distance between us as I found Remnant typing rapidly on his secure phone.
“That remains so. This is Lazriel.”
“Texting that much?” Worry flared.
“Your pulse just started racing,” he said, still focused on his phone. “Rest assured he is well. He’s texting about his school work.”
“His school work that he’s supposed to be immersed in right now.”
“Yes,” Remnant said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “He’s asked me whether there exists vampiric speed in our thought processes.”
I burst out laughing. “Of course he did.”
“He is still coming down from the war, so he is experiencing trouble focusing.”
“I know. He just needs time. Injecting a sense of urgency often helps, and giving him something to look forward to—only once he’s finished the task at hand.”
Remnant put his phone away and stared at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You will make a fine father. You’re deeply attuned, fair, yet firm, coming from a positive place despite frustrations. Yes. You will do very well.” He chuckled to himself. “As will Lazriel, albeit in a very different way.”
I smiled out at him.
Any further conversation there was paused as Ketheron teleported in via a flash of his golden power.
He looked between us, greeted us very briefly, then his entire attention went to theMystic Heart, his excitement barely contained.
As he stood before it hovering in a field of my crimson magic, taking in the shimmering golden valves and veins, he asked me, “Sylas, may I—”
“Study away.”
“Yes!” he cried, examining it.
