Page 53 of Wicked Magik
He is the creator, and Oryx is the creation. But does it really go any further than that? He hasn't bothered to visit Oryx since I've been around, leaving me questioning if there's any connection between them. Yet, I can't shake off the feeling that there might be something deeper, something I'm missing.
My brows furrow as I feel my tiredness creep in.
I needed to talk to this warlock, preferably without Oryx there. Yet, I’m human and I would need to find out a way to do it without getting killed. I don’t think Oryx would do well without me and if I parted with Oryx, I think it might break my heart, too.
Chapter 18
Veylor
The doors of my lab burst open.
Rage surges through me as I violently slam the doors shut with my magik, the force echoing like thunder. Lightning electrifies the room, casting jagged shadows as I hurl myself onto the cluttered table, laden with papers, glass vials, and books. With a ferocious sweep of my arm, I send them flying, relishing the shattering crash.
I can only see red when I slump to my knees in defeat.
This catastrophe was entirely my fault.
If only I had opened my heart to Oryx, instead of shoving him aside with my cruel indifference, none of this chaos would havehappened. If only I had poured every ounce of my being into my efforts, been relentless in my pursuit of him, and treated every second as a precious gift rather than something to squander.
Time was slipping through my fingers, an unforgiving tide, even if we could cheat death itself.
There was no defined timeline for life or death for either of us, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that eventually, he would move on from me. This thought clashed with everything I had envisioned for us, yet a part of me wondered if, perhaps, it would be for the best.
I had wrecked his life, but I was trying hard to make things right. Although I hadn't recovered his memories, I was committed to providing him with the best body possible. I just needed a little more time.
I stood and waved my hand at the mess. The bottles, papers and books all lifted into the air and sat neatly back onto the table. The liquids stayed in the spot on the floor, but I did not mind it. I’d make more of the potions, make more of what I needed.
I strolled down the dimly lit hallway, the flickering torches casting a warm glow that intensified with each step I took. Their flames danced against the stone walls, creating shadows that seemed to come alive.
As I reached the heavy wooden door, which had remained securely locked and untouched by any other soul, I paused for a moment. With a gentle wave of my hand over its surface, a soft click resonated through the silence, signaling its release. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the ancient hinges creaking softly in the stillness.
On the table lay a body draped in a black sheet, a shadowy monument to my relentless obsession. I stepped forward, my hand trembling as it settled on its chest, feeling the eerie stillness beneath. It was nearly finished, the culmination ofcountless years spent in painstaking pursuit, each moment a torturous blend of patience and agony.
It was all worth it.
He would hopefully appreciate it, grant me forgiveness, as I will never forgive myself.
"I am so sorry, Oryx," I murmured into the chilly room. On the far wall hung a painting of what Oryx once was. His long golden hair was pinned back, and despite the hours spent creating the portrait, a smile adorned his face. His sharp jawline, his green orbs, he was the light I craved.
Oryx was the most joyful fae, the one who melted my heart when I was younger, leading me to fall in love with him. He was vibrant, while I was the darkness, the shadow standing behind him, embracing him for all that he was.
I never had the courage to tell him how I felt, not until his last moments. Finding out he felt the same as well, I gave everything to bring him back only to find that he had forgotten everything of who he once was, even me.
After becoming a lich, an undead sorcerer capable of resurrecting the deceased, my magik was still immature. I was careless, overly emotional, and in my rush, I may have jeopardized everything.
I’ve been too slow, too careful now.
Always making mistakes.
Was it physical touch he was after with this female? Just his carnal desires? He surely didn’t care for this female, this… witch. She didn’t have pointed ears, her hair was white just as mine and Benedicts. She was a hybrid of some kind.
Amethyst eyes that glowed in the dim candlelight that captured me.
Her scent, her face, it all entrapped me when it shouldn’t have.
Oryx was meant to be mine, and an overwhelming surge of emotion crashed through me, an unwanted storm I could barely contain.
Oryx had desired me once, or at least I believed he did with every fiber of my being. But now, as he looked through me like a stranger, I am tormented by the thought: will he ever desire me again?
