Page 138 of Frozen Hearts and Death Magic

Yes, good for him. Leah also used not to be afraid of it, except that now she knew there could be otherworldly things hiding in it. No, that was in the hollow, in the space between worlds, a fissure like an open chasm, from where things looked upon them. A chasm from where horrific power could flow to her.

Leah then added, “Listen to me, Lago. If your sister doesn’t come back, and if you feel very thirsty, you’ll have to get out.”

“I know.” His voice was thin, laced with sadness, probably thinking about the worst outcome.

Leah had been rather thinking that his sister could be busy, imprisoned, or something. And yet. Things could happen. She squeezed the boy’s hand again, trying to soothe and reassure him, even if she knew that there was no reassuring him, that she could give him no guarantees.

But the superior amount of Frostlake guards should ensure some degree of safety to the castle workers. She hoped so. Valeria’s brothers were soon silent again, overcome with fatigue. She was also exhausted, scared, and lost. Her life had always seemed so certain, her mother had always raised her to marry well and become the Frostlake queen, and then this happened. But she didn’t think that delaying or waiting would have helped much. Venard and the Ironhold people knew how to pretend to be friendly when they wanted to.

Leah sighed. She had to get to Isofel. Just the mental mention of his name made her heart constrict with worry. So much silly worry. She had to sleep again and try to do whatever she’d done before. As she tried to recall the details as to how she’d gotten to Umbraar, she remembered that she’d seen her dragon. That was what she had to focus on; her magical silver dragon. Perhaps it symbolized her magic, at least the good part of it. It was as if it protected her.

* * *

20 years before

River should behappy and excited. Instead, there was something nagging at him, and he didn’t know what it was. He lay in bed wide awake, his heart beating faster than normal. Perhaps it was still the memory of the Formosa tragedy and the horrific thought that his brother could have done it. But then, what if Forest hadn’t destroyed the Umbraar city? What if his brother was just taking the credit, like he’d done with the staff? While River would be relieved to know his brother wasn’t a complete monster, it led to a worrying question. Who had done it? And why? A cliff didn’t collapse out of nowhere.

He took a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to worry; he was about to counter the human’s magic, and that was good. Iron magic, in particular, was deadly to his kind, and if it could be stopped, it would give his people a chance. Unless the spell was dangerous. But he was willing to risk death to save his people. He wondered if he would find the pretty girl who’d saved him if he passed on to the other side. That was a morbid thought.

Still. There was one thing he could do: translate the words in the enchantment. It would in fact be quite helpful, so that when he said the incantation, he would put meaning into it, he would feel the words. It made sense. With that thought, he took a pile of books on Old Elven and brought them to his room. As he searched each word, compared the sentences, looked at various possible meanings, and tried to make sense of the text, the hours passed quickly.

The sun was already up when he came up with a tentative translation:

By the power of infinity, it’s done as I say, covering all this land. I concentrate all the power of the eternal magic to bring change to the non-magical people. Change only to the pure non-magical people, every non-magical person, and as this power spreads, they are changed.

The non-magical people were the humans. It had to be that, because if the magic were to affect only the humans without magic, it would be pointless. Change likely meant change in their magic. The original Old Elven, krittl, was a tricky word that could also mean transformation, travel, or bridge. It had to be transformation—or change—in this context.

He left the Ancient City without saying any goodbye or asking any more questions, as he couldn’t find his father or the magic scholar. Ciara was nowhere to be found either.

After stepping in the hollow paths, he came to a circle in Wildspring. There were no more Ancients living in this kingdom, at least as far as he knew. The humans had been coming at his people with steel and explosions, with more and more dangerous weapons that they could never counter. It meant that perhaps blocking their magic wouldn’t be the end of the war, but it could do a lot.

This circle was a small one, in the middle of the woods. No human soldiers were around it, at least not yet. River stared at the top of the staff. There was a star and a portal carved on it. Magic as powerful as that could kill the wielder. With eyes closed, he focused. Death wasn’t the end of the world, it was just a transition, a passage, and he could accept that. The old books mentioned a bridge or portal to the other world.

He looked at the carved image again. It could well symbolize death. When he was about to perform the incantation, another thought hit him, and a chill ran down his spine. Krittl meant transformation, travel, or bridge. All these words would relate to one thing in the Old Books: death. He thought back to the words he had to say, with the new meaning in mind.

By the power of infinity, it’s done as I say, covering all this land. I concentrate all the power of the eternal magic to bring death to the non-magical people. Death only to the pure non-magical people, every non-magical person, and as this power spreads, they are dead.

Suddenly the words made more sense. A lot more sense. Perhaps this incantation had come from the ancient elves or from dragons, but it should still follow some logic. Fae logic always stated that deals should be clear. Magic should also be clear, not ambiguous or vague. If this enchantment were to bring some kind of change to the humans in Aluria, it should state what kind of change it was. If it was to bring death, there was no need to specify anything.

But it wasn’t possible. His father wouldn’t… The image of the celebration of the Formosa tragedy came to his mind. His brother’s words, saying that there was no room for both humans and Ancients in Aluria. He looked at the symbol on the staff. As horrific as his conclusion was, it fit.

River recalled when he’d heard his father mentioning the artifact, saying it was a way to deal with the humans. Had he ever stated that it was meant to counter the humans’ magic? Or had River just assumed it? It was easy to take isolated pieces of information and build a new narrative.

His heart was speeding up, and dusk was upon him. Killing all humans would save his people. They would be able to leave the Ancient City, repopulate Aluria, make sure the nature in Mount Prime recovered. There would be no more war. But at what cost?

River’s hand was trembling as he stared at the magical artifact in his hand. What had he done? Why couldn’t he have died on his way to Aluria, buried this dreadful thing in the bottom of the sea? Then he imagined it washing into the shore, ending up in someone’s hands, causing destruction again.

Why had the mysterious girl saved him? And twice? She looked human. It made no sense. She should have let him freeze to death. Then her words came to him. You’re good, River. Never forget that. But what did good even mean? He wanted to be a good son, even when he pretended he didn’t, just because trying and failing hurt too much. He wanted to save his people, he wanted to make sure he saw no more senseless deaths, like his cousin’s. There was so much he wanted, and using this staff would guarantee all his wishes would be granted. He could bring peace to Aluria.

And yet his throat was thick with tears threatening to come. He couldn’t kill thousands and thousands of people, he just couldn’t. And he couldn’t let anyone else do that either. An object like this was indestructible—in theory. Unless…

River had only a few minutes left, and he changed the words. By the power of infinity, it’s done as I say, covering this staff. I concentrate all the power of the eternal magic to bring death to this staff. Death only to this staff, and as this power flows, this staff is dead.

He wasn’t sure if a staff could die, but he didn’t know the Old Elven for destruction. The artifact started to vibrate, and River held on to it. Magic usually needed a magician, so he couldn’t let go. It could well be his death, but if he rid the world of such a dangerous object, it would be worth it.

He didn’t let go, even when it vibrated so much that his entire body shook, even when its magic flowed to him, a strange hot wave, painful and uncomfortable, as if he were burning from the inside. He felt death in his hands, and yet kept holding it, determined to destroy that staff, determined to rid the world of such a dangerous object.

The sky wasdark when River woke up. The floor around him was charred and the faerie circle was gone. He’d been unconscious in enemy territory and extremely lucky to have survived. He walked the entire night until he found another circle, and finally reached the Ancient City by morning.

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