For nearly two weeks after the wedding, Zephrial discovered something she had stopped believing was possible.
She was getting to know her mother.
Not the distant woman who had stood quietly beside her father throughout her childhood. Not the woman who had watched Agamon make every decision for their family and rarely offered more than a gentle smile or a few words of comfort afterward.
Deborah.
That was her name.
And for the first time in Zee's life, she was beginning to understand the woman behind it.
They met for lunch almost every day.
Sometimes Jax joined them, charming Deborah with his easy humor and an apparently endless supply of stories about the strange things that happened throughout the United Kingdoms.
Other times, one of the Vixens accompanied Zee.
Bunny was particularly enthusiastic about these visits, although her enthusiasm generally involved ordering enough food for three people and insisting that everyone try whatever dessert she had discovered that morning.
Llandra preferred quieter conversations. She asked Deborah about the Luminari homeland, its traditions, and the customs that had shaped Zee's childhood.
Nyxian, naturally, asked questions that made Deborah blush.
Zee had never seen her mother blush so much.
She rather enjoyed it.
But the lunches Zee treasured most were the ones when it was just the two of them.
They talked about little things.
Favorite foods.
Childhood memories.
The places Deborah had visited before marrying Agamon.
She had once wanted to travel, Zee discovered. To see the oceans, the elven forests, and the great cities she had only read about.
"Then why didn't you?" Zee asked one afternoon.
Deborah smiled faintly.
"Life doesn't always turn out the way we imagine."
Zee considered that.
"No," she agreed. "Sometimes it turns out better."
Her mother looked at her for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
A real smile.
Zee was beginning to recognize the difference.
Deborah had declined Jax's invitation to stay at the Compound. She insisted that she didn't want to impose on the newlyweds or become a permanent guest in their home.
Jax had accepted her decision.
Then he'd quietly arranged for her to occupy the finest suite at an inn he owned in Solmere.
When Deborah protested the expense, Jax waved it away.
"Mrs. Deborah, I own the building. You're not costing me anything I wasn't already spending."
"Surely someone would have rented the room."
"Probably. But I like my mother-in-law considerably more than most paying customers."
Zee had laughed.
Deborah had looked genuinely touched.
And Jax, satisfied that the matter was settled, had changed the subject before she could argue further.
Despite refusing to stay at the Compound, Deborah visited frequently.
She joined them for dinner on several occasions, gradually becoming accustomed to the peculiar rhythms of the Darquebane household.
She watched Bunny challenge Bruce to an arm-wrestling match.
She listened to Llandra and Jax debate military strategy over dessert.
She discovered that Nyxian could turn virtually any innocent statement into something scandalous.
And she learned that her daughter was loved.
Not merely tolerated.
Not protected because of her position.
Loved.
Jax listened when Zee spoke. He valued her judgment. He trusted her abilities. And when she disagreed with him, he didn't silence her.
Sometimes he even admitted she was right.
Deborah seemed particularly astonished by that.
One evening, after Jax had excused himself to address a minor trade dispute, Deborah turned toward Zee.
"He treats you as an equal."
Zee looked surprised.
"Of course he does."
Deborah glanced toward the doorway.
"Your father would never have allowed you to contradict him in front of others."
"Jax isn't Father."
"No," Deborah said softly. "He certainly isn't."
For a while, Zee thought they might finally have the relationship she'd wanted all her life.
She began looking forward to their lunches.
She saved stories to tell her mother.
Sometimes, when something amusing happened during the morning, Zee would catch herself thinking about how Deborah would react when she heard it.
It was a small thing.
But it made her happy.
And then, one afternoon, everything changed.
They were sitting at their usual table near the inn's garden windows.
Zee had ordered roasted chicken with vegetables. Deborah had chosen a light soup and freshly baked bread.
The conversation had been pleasant.
Ordinary.
Until Deborah set down her spoon.
"Zephrial, there's something I need to tell you."
Zee looked up.
Something in her mother's voice made her stomach tighten.
"What is it?"
Deborah folded her hands in her lap.
"I've decided to return home."
For a moment, Zee didn't understand.
"Home?"
"To your father."
The words seemed to hang between them.
Zee stared.
"You're going back to him?"
Deborah nodded.
"Yes."
"Did he send for you?"
"No."
"Did someone threaten you?"
"No, sweetheart."
"Then why?"
Deborah looked down.
"He's my husband."
Zee waited.
Surely there was more.
Surely that couldn't be the entire explanation.
"Mother, he was going to sacrifice me."
"I know."
"He knew what would happen to me. He was willing to let me die."
Deborah's eyes filled.
"I know."
"And you knew."
Her mother closed her eyes.
"Yes."
Zee felt the familiar pain rising.
But this time it was different.
Before, she'd been angry at the woman who had failed to protect her.
Now she was looking at someone she had come to love.
Someone she'd laughed with.
Someone who had told her stories about her childhood and held her hand when they walked through the market.
Someone who had finally begun acting like her mother.
"Then why would you go back?"
Deborah struggled to answer.
"Your father and I have been together for many years. There are obligations. Responsibilities. A life we've built."
"A life where you do whatever he tells you."
"Zephrial."
"Am I wrong?"
Deborah didn't answer.
Zee leaned forward.
"You've seen what life can be like here. You've seen how Jax treats us. You've seen people making their own choices."
"I have."
"Then stay."
Her voice cracked despite her efforts to control it.
"Stay here. You don't have to live at the Compound. You can have your own home. You can travel. You can do all those things you told me you wanted to do."
Deborah began crying.
"Sweetheart..."
"You can be happy."
"I know."
"Then why?"
Her mother reached across the table.
Zee let her take her hand.
For one desperate moment, she hoped Deborah would change her mind.
"I love you, Zephrial."
Zee swallowed.
"Then choose me."
Deborah's expression crumpled.
But she didn't answer.
And Zee understood.
She slowly withdrew her hand.
"When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow morning."
Zee stared at her.
"Tomorrow?"
"I thought it would be easier if..."
"If what?"
Deborah couldn't finish.
Zee looked toward the garden.
For nearly two weeks, she'd believed they were building something.
And Deborah had apparently been preparing to leave.
"Did you ever intend to stay?"
Her mother hesitated.
That was answer enough.
Zee nodded slowly.
"I see."
"Please don't think I regret coming."
"I don't."
"These days with you have meant more than I can explain."
Zee looked back at her.
"Then I wish they'd meant enough."
Deborah began to sob.
Zee felt tears gathering in her own eyes, but she refused to let them control the conversation.
She wasn't the frightened young woman who had once believed her father's approval determined her worth.
She had a husband who loved her.
A family who stood beside her.
A life she had chosen.
And she would not beg someone to be part of it.
"I love you, Mother."
Deborah looked up hopefully.
"But I won't ask you again."
"Zephrial..."
"You know where I live. You know you're welcome. And if you ever decide you want a different life, I'll help you."
She stood.
"But I won't spend my life waiting for you to choose it."
Deborah reached toward her.
Zee stepped forward and embraced her.
For several moments, they held each other.
Then Zee kissed her mother's cheek.
"Goodbye, Mother."
She left before either of them could say something that would make it harder.
Deborah remained at the table.
Alone.
That evening, Jax found Zee sitting on the balcony outside their suite.
She had been crying.
She didn't try to hide it.
Jax sat beside her without speaking.
After a while, she leaned against him.
"She's leaving."
He wrapped an arm around her.
"I'm sorry."
"I thought..."
She stopped.
Jax waited.
"I thought she was finally becoming my mother."
"She was."
Zee shook her head.
"That's what makes it worse."
She looked up at him.
"This hurts even more because I got to know the real her. And she still chose him over me."
Jax pulled her closer.
He wanted to tell her that Deborah would change her mind.
That everything would work out.
That people eventually recognized what mattered.
But he couldn't promise any of those things.
So he didn't.
"Her decision doesn't say anything about your worth, Zee."
"I know."
She wiped her eyes.
"I really do know that now."
He kissed her forehead.
"Good."
"But it still hurts."
"I know."
They sat together as the sun disappeared beyond Solmere's rooftops.
Eventually, Zee straightened.
"I won't let this destroy what I've built for myself."
Jax smiled.
"I never thought you would."
She rested her head against his shoulder again.
For a while, neither spoke.
And when Deborah departed the following morning, Zee did not go to the inn.
She had already said goodbye.
Two more weeks passed.
Life continued.
And elsewhere on the continent, preparations of a very different nature were reaching their conclusion.
Nyxian Nightveil stood in Merriweather's workshop, studying an elegant black dress hanging from a wooden display.
It was beautiful.
The fabric shimmered faintly beneath the enchanted lamps. Delicate silver patterns traced the sleeves and neckline, forming intricate designs that seemed almost alive.
Merriweather looked pleased with herself.
"The enchantments are woven directly into the fabric. Quite sophisticated, actually."
Nyxian approached.
"And they'll repel demonkin?"
"Most demonkin, yes. The wards are designed to disrupt infernal mana signatures. Particularly powerful demons might resist the effect, but they'd certainly find it unpleasant."
"Excellent."
Bunny glanced at Pixelle.
Pixelle, currently in her full-sized form, was examining a display of enchanted jewelry.
"Why exactly do you need a dress that repels demons?" Bunny asked.
"Family preparations."
Bunny considered that.
"Right."
Pixelle looked up.
"That explains absolutely nothing."
Nyxian smiled sweetly.
"Darling, sometimes a woman must prepare for unpleasant company."
Merriweather carefully removed the dress from its display.
"There is one complication."
Nyxian raised an eyebrow.
"Only one? How disappointing."
"You're a succubus."
"An astute observation."
"Which means the enchantment may react to your own mana."
Nyxian waved a hand.
"I'm sure it'll be fine."
Merriweather looked doubtful.
"I would strongly recommend testing a small section first."
But Nyxian was already stepping behind the changing screen.
A moment later, she emerged wearing the dress.
It fit perfectly.
The silver patterns shimmered.
Nyxian examined herself in the mirror.
"Oh, I do like this."
Bunny smiled.
"It looks beautiful!"
Pixelle nodded.
"Very elegant. Almost suspiciously respectable."
Nyxian turned to admire the back.
Then she stopped.
Her smile tightened.
Merriweather noticed immediately.
"Lady Nyxian?"
"I'm fine."
A faint wisp of smoke rose from her shoulder.
Bunny blinked.
"Um..."
Another curl of smoke appeared near Nyxian's waist.
Merriweather hurried forward.
"Take it off."
Nyxian examined the glowing silver embroidery.
"Interesting."
"Lady Nyxian, the wards are attacking your mana."
"Yes, I gathered that."
The fabric began glowing more brightly.
Nyxian winced.
Pixelle lowered the necklace she'd been examining.
"Nyxian?"
"I'm fine."
"You're smoking."
"A minor inconvenience."
Bunny stepped closer.
"You're burning!"
Nyxian clenched her jaw.
"I can endure it."
Merriweather stared.
"Why would you want to?"
Nyxian looked at her reflection.
"Because if it hurts me, it'll hurt them."
The room went quiet.
Bunny frowned.
"Nyxian, take it off."
"No. I just need to adjust..."
The silver patterns flared.
Nyxian gasped.
Bunny moved.
One moment she was standing beside the table.
The next, she had Nyxian by the shoulders.
"Enough!"
Pixelle rushed forward, gathering magic around her fingers.
"Merriweather! Disable it!"
"I'm trying!"
The enchantment resisted.
Pixelle muttered something thoroughly inappropriate and pressed her glowing palm against the fabric.
The silver embroidery flickered.
Bunny pulled the dress away from Nyxian's skin while Merriweather severed the final enchantment.
The glow vanished.
Nyxian stumbled.
Bunny caught her.
Angry red marks covered portions of her shoulders and arms.
Pixelle stared at them.
"Are you completely insane?"
Nyxian managed a weak smile.
"That depends on who's asking."
Bunny looked genuinely upset.
"Why would you do that?"
Nyxian didn't answer.
Bunny's expression softened.
"They can't be that bad."
For once, Nyxian didn't have a clever response ready.
Her gaze drifted toward the ruined dress.
"You have no idea."
Something in her voice made Bunny stop asking questions.
Pixelle looked between them.
Then she gently took Nyxian's hand.
"Whatever you're worried about, setting yourself on fire isn't the answer."
Nyxian sighed.
"You're both terribly unreasonable."
"Yes," Bunny replied. "We're unreasonable because we don't want you cooked alive."
Merriweather examined the damaged enchantment.
"I could theoretically design a selective ward. Something that recognizes your particular mana signature and excludes it from the repulsion effect."
Nyxian brightened.
"Wonderful."
"But it would require extensive testing. Maybe a year, possibly longer."
Her smile disappeared.
Pixelle folded her arms.
"I guess no fire starter outfit for you."
Nyxian sighed dramatically.
"Fine."
Bunny smiled.
"So you'll wear a normal dress?"
"Apparently."
"And Jax?"
Nyxian glanced toward Merriweather.
"Could we incorporate the protection into his formal clothing instead?"
Merriweather shook his head.
"The same problem applies. I won't have sufficient time to guarantee the enchantment's safety."
Nyxian looked positively devastated.
Pixelle tilted her head.
"Why would Jax need demon-repelling clothes?"
"Precaution."
Pixelle stared at her.
Bunny sighed.
Merriweather quietly began removing the ruined dress from the workshop.
In the end, Nyxian selected an ordinary formal gown.
Jax's attire would likewise remain entirely free of infernal repulsion magic.
Nyxian accepted this outcome with considerably less grace than everyone else.
Meanwhile, Jax had other preparations underway.
At Brannic's forge, a very different project was nearing completion.
The dwarf stood beside his workbench, examining an elegant weapon while Merriweather inspected the enchantments woven into its construction.
Jax approached.
"How's our little surprise coming?"
Brannic grunted.
"Little, he says."
Jax smiled.
"Expensive?"
"More than expensive."
"Good. I'd hate to think I was becoming predictable."
Brannic gave him a look.
Merriweather ran a hand above the weapon, checking the flow of mana.
"Everything is holding beautifully."
The craftsmanship was extraordinary.
Not merely decorative.
Not merely practical.
Every detail had been considered, every component shaped for a purpose.
It was the sort of creation that could be admired as art while concealing capabilities few would recognize until it was too late.
Jax studied it.
"Perfect."
Brannic folded his arms.
"You're certain about this?"
"Absolutely."
The dwarf shook his head.
"One of these days, lad, you're going to ask me to make something normal."
Jax laughed.
"Where's the fun in that?"
Merriweather smiled.
"Shall we prepare the final presentation?"
Jax nodded.
"Yes. And let's keep this between us for now."
Brannic snorted.
"Who would believe me if I told them?"
Jax grinned.
"Fair point."
Far beneath Alexandria, twenty mages gathered in a chamber that had not been opened for generations.
The walls were carved from black stone.
Ancient symbols covered the floor, their meanings preserved in manuscripts most Imperial scholars had never been permitted to read.
At the chamber's center lay an enormous ritual circle.
Eight smaller circles surrounded its heart.
Beyond them stood twelve raised positions, each marked with a different sigil.
And farther still, behind a protective barrier of layered enchantments, General Lysandra watched.
Beside her stood several senior Imperial observers.
None spoke.
Their attention rested on the woman directing the preparations.
Cassandra Sinclair.
A specialist in forbidden curses and ancient binding magic.
For years, Cassandra had studied techniques dismissed by conventional mages as impractical, dangerous, or simply too costly to perform.
She believed she'd finally discovered a way to accomplish something no living Imperial mage had successfully attempted.
A curse capable of reaching a specific target across an entire continent.
Not a vague hex.
Not a minor affliction.
A layered destruction curse designed to strip its victim of sight, movement, speech, and eventually control over the most basic functions of his body.
The target would remain conscious.
Aware.
Trapped inside flesh that no longer obeyed him.
And Cassandra intended to inflict that fate upon Jax Darquebane.
She looked toward Lysandra.
"Everything is prepared, General."
Lysandra examined the circle.
"The anchor?"
"Secured. The connection has been verified."
"The sacrifices?"
"Eight, as required."
Lysandra nodded.
"And the controlling mages?"
"All eleven are in position."
"Eleven?"
"I will be securing the 12th spot to ensure success."
"Excellent."
Cassandra smiled with unmistakable pride.
"The ritual should take no more than an hour once the sacrifices begin."
"Then proceed."
Cassandra bowed slightly.
"As you command."
She turned toward the circle.
Lysandra watched her go.
There had been a time when Cassandra considered the entire concept impossible.
A curse of this magnitude would require more power than any ordinary mage could provide.
More than several mages could provide.
The mathematics simply didn't work.
Then Cassandra had discovered an obscure manuscript in the restricted archives.
It described an ancient method of converting living mana into a self-sustaining curse.
A few weeks later, Lysandra had mentioned that the Empire possessed no reliable method of neutralizing Jax Darquebane without confronting him directly.
An intriguing problem.
Cassandra had begun researching.
Lysandra had encouraged her.
More documents had become available.
More questions had been asked.
And eventually, Cassandra had presented her solution.
She had been delighted when Lysandra approved it.
Now, standing before the assembled mages, Cassandra felt the satisfaction of someone about to prove years of research correct.
"Begin the invocation."
The twelve controlling mages raised their hands.
Their voices filled the chamber.
Low.
Measured.
Perfectly synchronized.
The symbols beneath their feet began glowing crimson.
Mana flowed toward the center.
The eight sacrificial circles awakened.
Cassandra turned toward the first volunteer.
A middle-aged mage stepped forward.
His expression was solemn but determined.
"For the Chaos God," he declared.
Cassandra inclined her head.
"Your sacrifice will strengthen the Empire."
He smiled.
Then stepped into the circle.
The moment his foot touched the central sigil, his body jerked.
He gasped.
His shoulders snapped backward.
A sharp crack echoed through the chamber.
The man's eyes widened.
His right arm twitched.
The movement was impossibly fast.
His elbow bent beyond its natural limit.
Bone broke.
He tried to scream.
His jaw opened with such violent speed that it dislocated.
The sound that escaped him was barely recognizable as human.
His body convulsed again.
Every muscle contracted at once.
His spine arched.
His knees buckled.
The attempt to collapse triggered another involuntary movement, which shattered more bones.
He couldn't stop moving.
Every reaction caused another injury.
Every injury triggered another reaction.
His head snapped backward with such force that his jaw struck upward against his own face.
His limbs twisted beneath him.
His chest contracted.
The sound of breaking bones became almost continuous.
One of the watching mages turned away.
Another began trembling.
The first sacrifice was no longer standing.
He was barely recognizable as a person.
Yet his eyes continued moving.
Following the figures beyond the circle.
Aware.
Still alive.
Someone whispered a prayer.
The broken body slowly sank into the black stone.
Not through an opening.
Into the surface itself.
As though the floor had become something hungry.
The man's eyes remained visible until the last possible moment.
Then they disappeared.
Silence fell.
The chanting continued.
Cassandra swallowed.
The process had been considerably more violent than she'd anticipated.
But the circle was functioning.
The first sigil burned brighter.
"Second sacrifice," she ordered.
A young woman stepped forward.
Then stopped.
She stared at the place where the first mage had vanished.
"No."
Cassandra frowned.
"Take your position."
The woman backed away.
"No. You said it would be quick."
"It is necessary."
"That wasn't quick!"
Two Imperial mages moved toward her.
She tried to flee.
A binding spell caught her legs.
She fell.
"Please!"
The guards lifted her.
She struggled desperately.
"I don't want to!"
Cassandra's expression hardened.
"The ritual cannot be interrupted."
The woman was pushed into the circle.
Her screams began immediately.
Her body snapped sideways.
A shoulder dislocated.
Her legs kicked with unnatural force, breaking against the stone.
She tried to curl inward, but the movement became another violent convulsion.
Her neck twisted.
Her back arched.
And still she screamed.
Until her jaw broke.
Until the screams became wet, broken sounds.
Until the circle began drawing her downward.
The third sacrifice attempted to attack one of the guards.
He never reached him.
The fourth begged for mercy.
The fifth tried to cast a protective spell.
The sixth fainted before entering the circle, only to awaken when the magic seized her.
The seventh cursed Cassandra by name.
The eighth refused to move at all and had to be carried.
Each suffered the same fate.
Bones shattered.
Muscles tore.
Bodies convulsed with movements no living creature should have been capable of making.
And one by one, the black stone swallowed them.
Eight lives.
Eight offerings.
Eight circles now burning with crimson light.
Cassandra stared at the completed formation.
Her hands trembled.
But she smiled.
"It worked."
The twelve controlling mages increased their chanting.
The central sigil began turning black.
Not dark.
Black.
A perfect absence of light.
The air around it distorted.
Cassandra raised both hands.
"Bind the target!"
The chamber shook.
Black threads erupted from the circle.
They twisted together, forming a single stream of power that stretched upward before vanishing into the stone ceiling.
Cassandra could feel the connection.
Across the Empire.
Across kingdoms.
Across mountains and forests.
Toward Solmere.
Toward Jax Darquebane.
Her eyes widened.
"We have him!"
Behind the protective barrier, one of the observers leaned forward.
"The connection?"
Lysandra watched the flowing mana.
"Stable."
Cassandra laughed.
"We have him!"
Then the chanting faltered.
One of the controlling mages staggered.
His hands dropped.
The sigil beneath him flared.
"What..."
His feet slid toward the center.
He tried to step backward.
Couldn't.
The black circle began drawing him inward.
Cassandra turned.
"Maintain your positions!"
Another mage screamed.
His robes stretched toward the center.
Loose stones began skidding across the floor.
A metal instrument lifted from a nearby table and vanished into the darkness.
The first controlling mage fell forward.
His body struck the floor.
Then slid.
He clawed at the stone.
His fingers left bloody streaks.
And he disappeared into the black center.
The chamber trembled.
Cassandra stared.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
The second controlling mage was dragged from his platform.
Then the third.
The fourth tried to teleport.
His spell collapsed before he could complete it.
The fifth attempted to sever his connection to the ritual.
The sigil beneath him exploded with crimson light.
He vanished.
The black center expanded.
Not like fire.
Not like smoke.
It seemed to consume the distance around it.
The remaining mages struggled desperately against the pull.
Their robes whipped around them.
Their staffs shattered.
One managed to reach the edge of the circle before an invisible force dragged him backward.
Another screamed for Lysandra to stop the ritual.
She didn't move.
Behind the protective barrier, the observers watched in horror.
"General!" one shouted. "The controlling mages!"
Lysandra remained calm.
"Maintain the barrier."
"But they're being consumed!"
"I can see that."
Cassandra's thoughts raced.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
The eight sacrifices had provided the necessary power.
The twelve controlling mages were supposed to direct it.
They weren't supposed to die.
She tried to sever the spell.
Nothing happened.
The circle refused her command.
Another mage vanished.
Then another.
Cassandra looked toward the protective barrier.
"Lysandra!"
The Archmage watched silently.
"Something is wrong! Shut it down!"
No response.
Cassandra felt the pull reaching her own platform.
Her robes lifted.
Her hair streamed toward the darkness.
"Lysandra!"
The final controlling mage beside her disappeared.
Cassandra was alone.
The twelfth mage.
The last one.
She struggled to remain standing.
Then she saw Lysandra's expression.
Not surprise.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Understanding.
And Cassandra suddenly remembered the manuscripts.
The conveniently accessible research.
The questions Lysandra had asked.
The encouragement.
The approval.
The way every obstacle had somehow led her toward the same conclusion.
She had believed the ritual was her discovery.
Her achievement.
Her idea.
But Lysandra had known.
From the beginning.
Cassandra's face twisted with horror.
"You..."
Her voice trembled.
"You knew."
Lysandra said nothing.
Cassandra reached toward her.
"You knew!"
Their eyes met.
And Lysandra smiled.
The darkness seized Cassandra.
She screamed as her body lifted from the platform.
Her hands reached desperately toward the barrier.
Toward the woman who had guided her to this moment.
But Lysandra made no effort to help.
Cassandra Sinclair vanished into the center of the ritual.
The twentieth sacrifice.
The chamber shook violently.
Every sigil ignited at once.
The black vortex collapsed inward.
For one impossible instant, the entire room seemed to bend toward a single point.
Then the darkness vanished.
The curse was complete.
Behind the barrier, the observers stared at the empty chamber.
Twenty mages had entered.
Not one remained.
Only scorched stone, shattered equipment, and a circle that no longer glowed.
One observer finally found his voice.
"General..."
Lysandra turned toward him.
"Yes?"
"They're all dead."
"Correct."
"Did you know that would happen?"
Lysandra studied the ruined circle.
"Magic of this magnitude requires sacrifice."
"But Cassandra..."
"Cassandra believed she understood the ritual."
The observer swallowed.
"And you?"
Lysandra looked toward the fading symbols.
"I understood the cost."
Nobody spoke.
She raised her staff.
A faint pulse of mana traveled through the chamber.
The remaining curse signature responded.
A connection.
Stable.
Established.
Lysandra smiled faintly.
"Jax Darquebane has been reached."
In Solmere, Jax was enjoying dinner.
Bunny was enthusiastically explaining why a hammer could be considered an extremely versatile household tool.
"It can open doors."
"Destroy doors," Llandra corrected.
"Same result."
"It can flatten things."
"That is generally what hammers do," Nyxian observed.
"It can break rocks."
Jax smiled.
"Very practical."
"And if somebody annoys you, you can..."
"Bunny."
She looked at him innocently.
"What?"
"Let's avoid including assault in the household maintenance demonstration."
Bunny sighed.
"You're taking all the fun out of it."
The table erupted in laughter.
Then Jax stopped smiling.
Something cold passed through him.
Not across his skin.
Through his body.
His fingers tightened around his glass.
His vision darkened.
For a fraction of a second, the world disappeared.
Zee noticed immediately.
"Jax?"
He didn't answer.
His body had gone rigid.
Nyxian straightened.
"Darling?"
Jax could hear them.
But his muscles weren't responding.
An unfamiliar pressure spread through his chest.
His heartbeat slowed.
His lungs refused to expand.
Then his System appeared.
[WARNING: HOSTILE EXTERNAL CURSE DETECTED]
[CLASSIFICATION: CHAOS-ALIGNED BINDING CURSE]
[ORIGIN: EXTERNAL]
[CONNECTION STATUS: ESTABLISHED]
[EFFECTS DETECTED:]
[VISUAL SUPPRESSION]
[MOTOR FUNCTION SEVERANCE]
[VOCAL SUPPRESSION]
[RESPIRATORY INHIBITION]
[CIRCULATORY DISRUPTION]
[CONSCIOUSNESS PRESERVATION]
Jax stared at the messages.
Well, that's new.
Another notification appeared.
[WARNING: FOREIGN AUTHORITY ATTEMPTING CONTROL OF HOST BODY]
[HOST CONTROL AUTHORITY: ABSOLUTE]
[FOREIGN AUTHORITY OVERRIDE: DENIED]
[CURSE STRUCTURE IDENTIFIED]
[DISPEL AVAILABLE]
[DISPEL HOSTILE CURSE?]
[YES / NO]
Jax selected Yes.
[CURSE DISPELLED]
[ALL FOREIGN EFFECTS REMOVED]
[HOST BODY CONTROL RESTORED]
The pressure vanished.
His vision returned.
His lungs expanded.
And Jax blinked.
"Huh."
Zee was already standing beside him.
"Jax!"
He looked up.
"Hey, beautiful."
"Don't 'hey, beautiful' me! What happened?"
Nyxian was on her feet.
Llandra had already reached for her weapon.
Bunny looked ready to demolish something.
Jax glanced around the table.
"Well, apparently somebody just tried to curse me."
Silence.
Zee stared.
"What?"
"Yep."
Nyxian narrowed her eyes.
"What kind of curse?"
"Pretty nasty one, actually. Blindness, paralysis, organ failure. The whole package."
Bunny's eyes widened.
"WHAT?"
Jax held up a hand.
"Relax. It's gone."
"Gone?" Zee repeated.
"Dispelled."
Llandra studied him carefully.
"You're certain?"
"Absolutely."
Zee placed a hand against his chest.
A gentle pulse of healing magic flowed through him.
She frowned.
"There's nothing there."
"Told you."
Nyxian folded her arms.
"Someone tried to kill you with a curse, and you're sitting there smiling?"
Jax considered that.
"Well, to be fair, they made one critical mistake."
Llandra raised an eyebrow.
"Which was?"
"They didn't realize I was already cursed."
Zee stared.
"Jax..."
He gestured around the table.
"Supporting eight women of exquisite taste. I'm pretty sure there's only room for one curse at a time."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Nyxian burst out laughing.
Bunny looked offended.
"Excuse me! I'm very reasonable!"
Llandra glanced at her.
"You commissioned a hammer that cost more than most noble estates."
Bunny folded her arms.
"That's an investment!"
Pixelle, seated nearby, raised her glass.
"And I'm practically free!"
Jax looked at her.
"Remind me how much your last shopping trip cost."
Pixelle lowered her glass.
"That is an entirely different discussion."
Zee shook her head.
She was trying not to smile.
Failing, but trying.
"You are impossible."
Jax took her hand.
"And yet you married me."
"Against my better judgment, apparently."
He kissed her fingers.
"Love you too."
The laughter gradually returned.
But Llandra remained thoughtful.
"Jax."
He looked toward her.
"Yeah?"
"Do you know who sent it?"
His smile faded slightly.
"No."
"Can you trace it?"
"Not from what the System showed me."
Nyxian leaned forward.
"Then whoever did this may try again."
Jax nodded.
"Probably."
Bunny gripped the edge of the table.
"Then we find them."
"We will," Jax said calmly. "But not by charging across the continent every time somebody does something stupid."
Bunny looked disappointed.
"Not even a little charging?"
"Maybe later."
That satisfied her.
Mostly.
Jax leaned back.
He was amused by the attempt.
But not entirely unconcerned.
Someone had reached across an enormous distance and established a direct connection to his body.
The System had rejected the curse effortlessly.
That didn't mean the attempt itself was insignificant.
Whoever had performed it possessed extraordinary magical knowledge.
And extraordinary resources.
He made a mental note to investigate.
For now, however, his family was safe.
He raised his glass.
"Well, since somebody went through all that trouble to ruin my evening, I propose we do the exact opposite."
Nyxian smiled.
"And what would that involve?"
"Dessert."
Bunny immediately brightened.
"I support this plan."
"Of course you do."
"And maybe another round?"
Jax laughed.
"Fine. Next round's on me."
Cheers erupted around the table.
Deep beneath Alexandria, Lysandra stood before the Queen.
The chamber was quiet.
Eight Imperial generals had gathered to hear the report.
Korvin watched from his usual position near the end of the table.
Selvara stood beside a collection of military maps.
Blackmoor looked impatient.
Malreth appeared particularly interested.
Lysandra stepped forward.
"The ritual is complete."
The Queen regarded her.
"And Darquebane?"
"The curse reached him."
"Successfully?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Lysandra placed a crystal upon the table.
Within it, a faint black thread shimmered.
"The connection held. We detected the curse entering his body. Every binding was established."
Malreth smiled.
"Then he's finished."
"Precisely," Lysandra replied. "For an ordinary man, a curse of this magnitude would prove fatal within hours. Darquebane's extraordinary constitution may allow him to resist its effects longer."
"How much longer?" Blackmoor asked.
"Within twenty-four hours, the curse will have fully established itself throughout his body. His senses will begin failing, followed by the loss of voluntary movement. His organs will progressively cease functioning, while the curse preserves his consciousness."
Raithe's expression barely changed, but the faint smile that crossed his face spoke volumes.
"A fitting death."
Lysandra nodded.
"Even with his considerable power, I estimate three days at most. Quite possibly less."
Blackmoor grinned.
"Three days of suffering before the bastard dies. Glorious."
Selvara studied the crystal.
"And you're certain?"
"Absolutely. The connection was perfect. Every binding successfully penetrated his defenses. There is no indication that he possesses any means of resisting the curse."
Korvin leaned forward.
"Then we know it entered him. But can we confirm its effects?"
"Not directly," Lysandra admitted. "The ritual establishes the connection and confirms implantation. It does not provide continuous observation of the victim."
Korvin nodded thoughtfully.
He had witnessed Cassandra Sinclair's final moments. Her realization that she'd been manipulated, followed by Lysandra's complete indifference to her death.
A clever arrangement.
Cassandra had willingly assembled the very ritual that consumed her.
Korvin appreciated the ingenuity.
He also made a mental note never to stand inside a magical circle designed by Lysandra.
The Queen examined the crystal.
"An impressive achievement, General."
Lysandra bowed.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Selvara glanced toward the empty ritual chamber.
"An expensive spell."
"An extraordinary spell," Lysandra corrected.
"Both," Selvara replied evenly. "Twenty trained mages represents a considerable investment in time and resources. Replacing them will not be simple."
Veynor folded his arms.
"Particularly the twelve controlling mages. Several were among our more experienced practitioners."
Blackmoor scoffed.
"They died accomplishing more than they ever would have alive."
"And now we have twenty fewer mages available for the next campaign," Selvara countered. "A victory still has a cost."
The Queen raised one hand.
"How long before our magical corps returns to full strength?"
"Three months," Lysandra replied. "Possibly longer, depending upon the quality of available replacements."
"Three months," Selvara repeated.
She looked at the maps.
"Our military resources are already strained."
"The winter solstice approaches," Lysandra said. "Chaos-aligned energies will strengthen as it draws nearer. Our preparations must account for that."
The Queen remained silent for several moments.
Then she smiled.
"Three months is acceptable."
Blackmoor nodded eagerly.
"By then, the United Kingdoms will be leaderless."
Selvara didn't share his enthusiasm.
"Even without Darquebane, their institutions remain. Their armies, their trade networks, their alliances..."
"We've discussed this," Blackmoor interrupted.
"And the facts haven't changed."
The Queen raised one hand.
Both fell silent.
"Prepare our forces."
Her gaze moved across the assembled generals.
"Rebuild our magical divisions. Restore our supply lines. Identify the weaknesses in the kingdoms that have abandoned us."
She looked toward Lysandra.
"And when Darquebane's condition becomes undeniable, we will remind the continent what happens when it defies the Empire."
Lysandra bowed.
"As you command."
The meeting ended shortly afterward.
The generals departed.
Some pleased.
Some thoughtful.
Some already planning the campaigns they believed would follow.
Korvin lingered briefly, studying the crystal before leaving.
He had questions.
He always did.
But the Queen was satisfied.
And Lysandra had delivered what she'd promised.
Twenty mages were dead.
Cassandra Sinclair was among them.
The Empire's magical strength had been diminished.
But the curse had reached Jax Darquebane.
Of that, Lysandra was certain.
She had felt the connection.
Watched it take root.
Confirmed the binding.
There was no reason to doubt its success.
Far away, in Solmere, Jax Darquebane was laughing with his family over dessert.
His eyesight was perfect.
His body obeyed his every command.
His System had already eliminated every trace of the curse.
And the Empire, having sacrificed twenty lives to bring him down, had absolutely no idea.
For the first time in months, Alexandria believed it had finally won.
It had never been more wrong.