Page 64 of The Lost Nation

Ronan cleared his throat, and everyone glared at him. “We uh...we hope the three leaders will consent to the ritual with us, as part of a new treaty between all peoples here in Dorea.”

I eyed Kali’s man, who glared right back. I decided I liked him.

“How do we know this isn’t a trick?” The blonde man asked.

My patience was growing thin. “We have returned your captives as a show of good faith. Feel free to leave your armies here, and if you do not return, have them attack.”

It seemed simple to me. By the water that was dripping down Kali’s arms, it wasn’t to her. The man muttered something in her ear, and she closed her eyes. The water withdrew, and ceased.

“Very well." She sniffed. "Allow us an hour to convey instructions to our generals, then the three of us will meet you back here."

Georg easily nodded at Kali’s directive, but I didn’t like the nasty look on the blonde’s face. Either way, he pulled on his horse and galloped off towards his troops.

Conan turned, looking like he wanted to beat the shit out of Ronan. I was half-tempted to let him.

“Don’t do anythingstupid. Stay here and wait for them.”I ordered him.

Ronan went to argue, but immediately shut his face at the look on mine. The rest of us retreated to the throne room to await the human leaders.

???

They weren’t happy about following us into the dark underbelly of the fortress, but they came. The blonde (named Dante, apparently), Georg, and Kali. Though Kali’s ‘advisor’ insisted on coming with her for protection. Kali had rolled her eyes dramatically, but allowed it.

Conan dragged the vampyre prisoner behind him, and Astrid and Vela took up the rear. One blood witch walked calmly with them.

“It feelsawfuldown here,” Kali shuddered, her eyes flicking from the slide covered walls to the cracked, crumbling steps.

It wasn't Aldur, by any means.

Quickly we descended to the cavern with pit, and the humans were quick to look over the edge.

"It feel like pure malevolence," Georg remarked,stepping away from the edge of the massive pit. I didn’t blame him—my own tattoos and sigils were screaming at me to get away.Too much! No balance!

Dante looked intrigued, and as tempting as it might have been to push him in, I instead yanked him back by his shoulder.

“This magick doesn’t belong here.” Astrid muttered.

I gave the pit an uneasy glance. Severn had sacrificed any imperfect half-breeds to feed the growing chaos in the pit, hoping to keep its hunger sated. How fitting that Severn had died by its hand. It wasn't enough to make up for the justice of slaughtering newborns, but it was something.

The raging hunger in the pit reached out to all of us, testing for weakness—probing for a small kink in our determination. It would not die easily.

I wasn’t worried about myself or the other magickal creatures—we grew up learning to balance and light and the dark. Humans had little to no experience with pushing away outside influence, however. It was them I was worried about.

Georg was resisting just fine, if the look of disgust on his face was anything to go by. Kali was wary, but her hands were fisted at her sides in determination. She'd already battled enough inner demons to recognize when magick was trying to control her.

Dante had a greedy look in his eyes that didn’t match the seriousness of his face. I narrowed my eyes.

“Each of you must take a spot around the circle.” Said a calm voice. Nuva was one of the few surviving blood witches who’d survived captivity here. She’d been especially vocal about helping us finally destroy this last remnant of those dark times. Her skin was black, her hair startling white. Golden eyes gazed at us with utmost authority, and we all moved to obey.

Beros, Conan, Astrid, Vela, Georg, Dante, Kali, and myself. The vampyre was knocked unconscious, and tied down into his spot.

Ronan and Kali’s man stood to the side to observe.

“Raise your hands and summon the black. Humans, prepare to receive it.” Nuva ordered.

We all drew daggers (except for the humans), and I gave one to Beros to grip in his teeth. We held the knives up high, then quickly brought them down on our own chests. We had to wound ourselves enough to be severely weakened, but not die.

I ignored Ronan’s twitch from behind, likely fighting the need to rush and assist me. He couldn't though, and knew it. This wasn’t simple ritual magick that could be brought to life with a scratch or a drop of blood—this wasmuchmore. The hole in front of us represented the needless deaths and suffering of countless innocents. The black magick needed to counter it would need to come first.

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