Isadora couldn't help her stare, not only surprised, but also confused, having no idea how Sylva could make a return from Limbo, magic or not.
Yet it was doubtful Aislinn knew the answer. So she didn't ask, and inquired instead, “Did Sylva get it?”
“Yeah,” Aislinn muttered. “That's a long story I don't care to retell, but let's just say the High Priestess of The Trine helped her, a woman named Estelle Abbott.”
“Abbott?” Canting her head, Isadora went on, “Is she Sylva's descendant?”
“Actually, Estelle's a descendant of Sylva's youngest sister, Lydia,” Troy qualified. “She was a medium who could commune with spirits, and Estelle inherited that ability. But though we contacted the Order of Mages about her, they only recovered Heliger's tome. So we assumed Estelle just copied the information she needed to bring Sylva back, then left the book behind to take some of the heat off.”
Isadora pursed her lips, considering the story in depth. Four centuries ago, a witch had been cast into Limbo by a powerful magician, and wandered in that plane of existence as a specter searching for a tome that served as her only means of returning to life. When she found it, she'd communicated with a medium to acquire it, and was now back in the physical world, using fae to steal valuables from draconians.
All in all, that was no small pill to swallow.
Yet the information became surprisingly easier to handle when Victoria postulated, “I'm still uncertain why Sylva believed a resurrection would be possible. Even if she was thrown in Limbo physically, her body would've decayed, wasted away to the point of—”
“Oh!”
Isadora's gasp interrupted the draconian, and all eyes focused on her as she covered her mouth with a sharp memory surfacing—the putrid stench of decay.
“What's wrong?” Victoria asked.
Holding her gaze, she asserted with every confidence, “The old woman was decaying! I remember it now. She was in the crate, and when I opened the lid, the stench almost gagged me.”
As if a domino had just toppled over, more memories resurfaced, and Isadora stood from her seat to pace around the table, remarking on the way, “Sylva was wrapped in green silk, and reached out to me, requesting help and … oh!”
Spinning around to face Victoria from the opposite side of the table, Isadora announced, “She was wearing a pendant!”
Everyone exchanged a curious look as the draconian asked, “What kind of pendant?”
“I … don't know, but more is coming back all the time, and I think that pendant is what put me under her control. I only glanced at it, and … that's the moment I blacked out. I'm sure of it.”
A grim silence fell over the table, each person caught in their own thoughts until Adriana mentioned, “It still makes no sense. Victoria's right, saying she had a physical body, it would've decayed to the point of dying the moment she was resurrected. So how could she have survived? Unless … .”
Knowingly, Aislinn supplied, “Unless someone sacrificed their life to extend hers, perhaps until she could find another source to restore her body.”
“You know,” Bryant qualified, “Estelle sounded dedicated enough to kill herself for Sylva.”
“Agreed,” Aislinn concurred. “Sylva might also be using the fae under her control to prolong her life. Still, it's hard to say what's going on without a better understanding of the magic used to curse Sylva from the start, or bring her back.”
Isadora knew that was true from her own work with the Craft. Magic was much like a fingerprint in that it was unique to each person using it. Though the outcome of a spell would generally be the same between two people, differing frequencies of energy were used to channel and cast it.
This could make a result more powerful, or less potent, depending on the caster's skill. That aside, Sylva's predicament was caused by a mage, and their magic wasn't powered by nature the same way as witchcraft.
The thought prompted Isadora to suggest, “I suppose our best way of learning more would be to ask Heliger himself. Victoria, do you think there's a chance we could find him?”
With a dejected sigh, she answered, “It's doubtful. Chandra says he went missing a century ago.”
Isadora frowned. Chandra was a sorceress tasked with finding all magical relics created by Heliger and returning them to the City of Magic where they belonged—and if she didn't know where Heliger had gone, it was likely no one did.
But Victoria didn't seem to think contacting her would be pointless, thoughtfully tapping her nails against the table's surface in qualifying, “Still, she may be able to provide insight into what's going on. So we should send a message. We also need to consult Nightfall about this matter.”
“Nightfall?” Aislinn asked. “You mean the new vampire Order? Why consult them?”
“Because of the staff Isadora's sister stole from the gallery,” Victoria started. “It was obtained from a vampire lair, and if we can find out what it is, or what Sylva wants with it, we may not need to figure out how her resurrection was achieved at all.”
All things considered, that sounded like the best course of action. Knowing as little as they did about Sylva Abbott, it was important to gather as much information as possible, even if it meant consulting vampires directly—a prospect Isadora dreaded.
But Adriana and Bryant were quick to surprise her when the latter qualified, “We actually met one of the elders of Nightfall a few days ago. Her name is Maddox, and she was helping a lupine looking for his mate while the sun was up. So she needed Adriana's blood to walk in daylight.”
Immediately, Isadora's eyes widened in Adriana's direction, asking scandalously, “You fed a vampire blood by choice?”
The sun fae shrugged sheepishly. “If Bryant was in the same position as that lupine's mate, I'd have given her every drop. But I was surprised. Maddox took the blood from my wrist, and even stopped without being told. I never once felt as if my life was in jeopardy.”
Despite her praise for the vampire's control, Bryant seemed annoyed by the story. But a werewolf was likely to find the idea of a vampire feeding off of his mate disagreeable regardless of the circumstances.
In fact, if anyone aside from a fae had given this vampire such praise, Isadora wouldn't have put as much stock in the comments.
But she trusted Adriana's judgment, and turned to Victoria to state, “Okay, why don't you contact the mage Order and see what they can tell us about Heliger, and I'll go talk with Nightfall.”
Victoria pursed her lips. “Don't you think it would be better to let me talk to Nightfall? I mean, I am a draconian.”
“I know, but I'll be in a Spire, so the risk is minimal. Besides, you know Chandra better than I do, so you have a better chance of getting in touch with her, and I can't sit by and wait to see what happens. In every way that matters, my sisters have been enslaved by this witch, and I'd do anything to free them.”
“That's the part that worries me,” Victoria muttered.
But though her countenance remained concerned, she nodded after a moment of thought.
“Fine, go speak with Nightfall, but take someone with you, and I mean a werewolf.”
Isadora could understand her worry, and would've agreed without qualm. Werewolves were the natural born enemies of vampires, so if anyone could ensure her protection, it would be Bryant, Troy, or Aislinn.
But before she could ask either of the Ferines sitting at the table to accompany her, Aislinn interjected, “No, you shouldn't take anyone, Isadora.”
“Why not?”
In response, the witch grasped Troy's big hand and closed her eyes, giving the distinct impression that she was having a psychic vision.
Intrigued, Isadora leaned on the table, waiting to see what she'd say—but the answer wasn't to her liking.
After several moments, Aislinn's blue eyes cracked open and turned up to her in relating, “You need to seek Maddox's help by yourself. She'll provide everything you need to find your sisters, but she won't do it if an enemy is n
earby.”
“What do you mean by everything she needs?”
Pursing her lips, Aislinn shrugged at Victoria's question. “I can't provide details. My visions are stronger now that I'm a Ferine, but I'm still not as talented as my cousin. So I only know that if Isadora wants to help her sisters successfully, her best chance is speaking with Maddox alone, and accepting whatever the vampire offers.”
That wasn't what Isadora had hoped to hear, but none of the werewolves argued with Aislinn's assessment, proving they trusted her judgment.
Even Adriana seemed amenable as she stood from the table and walked over to take Isadora's hands.
“If Aislinn says it's our best shot, that's enough for me, Issy. So while you're talking with Nightfall, I'll pass this information to our sisters to warn them about Sylva, and we'll let the fairies know to watch out as well.”
“That's a good idea,” Isadora agreed. Other fae needed to protect themselves from Sylva's manipulations, and she didn't want to even consider what might happen to a fairy coming across the witch without warning.
As children of nature, the tiny beings were close friends with all fae, and shared many of the same abilities. The trouble was that fairies were well meaning to the point of having a difficult time understanding the concept of malevolence. So if one happened across a fae under Sylva's control, they'd try to free her without questioning the dangers involved—and the mere thought of a fairy being hurt by a fae who had no control of herself was abhorrent.
Resenting the entire situation, Isadora gave Adriana a much needed hug. Not only was she worried over what could happen if they didn't hurry, the idea of speaking with a vampire wasn't at all agreeable.
Still, they'd be in a Spire—a supernatural sanctuary where violence was prohibited—and besides, if it meant freeing her fae sisters, she'd feed a vampire every drop of blood in her body.
So no matter how dangerous talking to Maddox could be, the risk was worth it.
It was just a matter of hoping Aislinn's intuition proved true.
— SIX —
The Cardinal Citadel, Sutrelle
Despite the comfort of being home in his own bed, Mathias tossed and turned for over an hour.
At first, it seemed he'd rest peacefully, having stretched out beneath the silken sheets as the comforting scent of jasmine and lotus incense drifted through the air. For as long as he could remember, the servants preferred burning those scents during the day, which he now associated with serenity.
But the longer he lay in bed, the less serene he felt. Thoughts of a particular fae haunted his mind, leaving him staring up at the canopy in frustrated dismay. Loathe as he was to admit it, finding someone with a blood link was always regretful when getting close was impossible without putting them in danger.
Yet, even realizing it was best to keep them at bay, he was fiercely coveting the female he'd saved earlier. Isadora, he thought, questioning the name's origin. Was it given to her, or had she’d chosen it for herself?
For that matter, he wondered where she was from. To his knowledge, fae weren't born like other beings, and instead, sprung up from the earth. So her origins were curious, and it would be interesting to—
No, it doesn't matter.
Groaning, Mathias rolled over, once again attempting to forget the brunette in favor of getting rest, not that he expected it to be easy.
But he was wrong—it was worse.
No matter how hard he tried to grasp it, comfort remained out of reach. He couldn't stop questioning himself, or the situation, and it wasn't surprising. In the past, he'd convinced himself that staying away was a good idea by imagining the harm that would come to the person in question if an enemy used them against him.
But this time, the idea only caused rage.
Why was the thought of Isadora being injured so different? Was it the nature of their blood link? Perhaps, and the more he considered it, the more it seemed the best idea would be to find her again, and protect her.
But damn it all, he posed just as much of a threat to her safety as anyone, and the mere thought had his fist flying into the headboard.
Marble shards flew away under the pressure, the surface cracking beneath his knuckles as the sharper edges cut into his flesh. But he didn't notice the pain, too distracted by the depth of regret gnawing at his insides from centuries of denying himself. Why do I always have to sacrifice?
Sneering at the thought, he sat up and inspected his knuckles, his flesh mending quickly to leave but a few drops of blood behind. Simultaneously, a knock sounded at the door, punctuated by a familiar voice.
“Mathias, are you up?”
“Sadly, yes,” he muttered in response. “Come in.”
With a soft squeak, the door opened, revealing a tall man with umber skin and dark hair tied into numerous braids—Heliger.
Quietly, the half elven magician stepped inside and turned a mildly surprised set of orange eyes on Mathias while shutting the door, remarking, “I didn't expect you to return from Terra so soon. Weren't you going to offer your daughter assistance in getting her new Order started?”
“I was, but she's done quite a bit of work already, so I returned early, and I intend to stay.”
Quirking a curious eyebrow, Heliger inquired, “Permanently?”
“Yes,” he answered, and though the magician's surprise was understandable, it wasn't like Heliger to ask, prompting the question, “Why?”
Austerely, the magician returned, “I was simply considering the situation. As it stands, we have two portals into Sutrelle that can only be activated by The Five and their direct descendants, but you were the only one paying regular visits to Terra. So if you're no longer intent on going, the gateways seem pointless.”
“Not entirely,” Mathias countered. “I still have a daughter who'll visit from time to time.”
“True,” the magician conceded, and though it looked as if he had several thoughts in mind regarding the matter, he voiced none of them, and also didn't ask why Mathias decided to stay, which was more in character.
The magician wasn't the type to dig into the affairs of others unless it affected him personally. Instead, he typically kept to himself, or at least, he had since coming to reside in Sutrelle after his reputation as a legendary magician made life in Terra and other realms … uncomfortable.
In those worlds, Heliger was known for providing destructive forces of magic to whatever group he assisted in battle, and also for crafting various magical items with potent abilities. Such talents had several people consistently bothering him for help, or seeking his demise, and he inevitably grew weary of such notoriety.
However, taking refuge meant finding a place where his name was insignificant, which seemed like an impossible task—but Mathias had the perfect answer.
Over a century ago in Terran time, he'd brought the magician to Sutrelle for solace, and though the native mortals now knew him as a generous man, they never pestered him for favors. As a result, he usually worked alone in one of the Citadel towers, studying magic and performing work that enhanced the inhabitants lives on his own terms.
So his concern for the safety of the realm in which he'd found sanctuary wasn't unexpected, nor was his following statement.
“Either way, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was simply on my way to the tower when I heard a crash, and thought to check.”
With that said, he gave a respectful nod, then turned to the door. Yet Mathias was grateful for the company, and delayed him with the question, “Are you working on anything specific?”
Stopping at the doorway, the magician looked back and nodded. “The amount of complaints over water shortages has doubled since you left, so I took one of the solar stills to research ways it might be enchanted, either to work faster, or produce more fresh water for the people.”
That sounded rather ingenious, and Mathias wished there was some way to help. But he had absolutely no aptitude for magic, and doubted Heliger would need anything done regarding phy
sical work until he'd completed his research.
So the best way to provide assistance was to let the magician return to the activity—regretfully. Mathias didn't look forward to spending the day fighting off thoughts of Isadora only to lose sleep and come out that much worse for the wear.
But as he had the thought, another knock came to the door, distracting both men from their conversation. In turn, he offered an invitation, and one of the human servants tasked with daily cleaning duties stepped inside.
Strangely, the man had a confused look on his face, though he still offered Heliger a respectful nod as the magician departed, then apologized for his intrusion.
“I'm sorry to bother you, Mathias, but someone's here to see you on urgent business.”
Urgent business? Must be one of the townspeople. Every now and again, a problem arose that the humans needed help dealing with, such as a collapsed bridge leading to someone becoming trapped. In those situations, they sought help from a vampire who was strong enough to rectify the problem in quick time—and considering his current predicament, Mathias was more than willing to assist.
So he didn't hesitate to ask, “What's the problem?”
“I'm not rightly sure,” the servant began. “But your daughter is here with uh … well, she's brought a fae named Isadora, and they want to speak with you immediately.”
Instantly, his gaze narrowed in the servant's direction, heart pounding against his sternum. In turn, the human nodded, likely believing his surprise was caused by learning a fae had come to Sutrelle.
But though that was certainly part of it—what fae in her right mind would willingly visit a vampire realm?—the bigger issue was … everything else.
The news raised so many questions Mathias didn't know where to start. But one thing he didn't question was the amount of time that had passed—though he'd only returned to Sutrelle just over an hour prior, a day and eight hours would've passed in Terra.
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