by John Corwin
Was Delectra always evil? I asked her soul fragment.
Beautiful, young, naïve, Della said wistfully. I—she was too proud of herself, too driven to be the best. Victus fell in love with her power and used her weaknesses to taint her. She went silent and offered nothing else.
Della's advice was sound. I shouldn't attempt this journey alone, but if Esma's condition worsened, I would gladly risk death to save her.
Chapter 20
After returning from the Fairy Garden, I sat down on my bed and opened the dossier on Delectra Moore.
Delectra was born the daughter of Damien Shelton* and Sasha Moore. Damien took the name Moore since it was the only name many considered worth handing down.
I looked down the page and found a reference to the asterisk in the text: Brother to Alfred Shelton, the biological father of Harry Shelton, one of the most powerful Arcanes.
Harry Shelton had gone to Seraphina with Justin Slade. Apparently, he was my cousin. I continued reading.
Though known for her kindness, Delectra was popular for her beauty and her prodigal Arcane skills. This streak of narcissism is what Victus exploited to warp her into a monster.
A collection of observations detailed what had been found in Victus's journals and how he'd manipulated her. How he'd wooed her into a relationship and convinced her to let him use demon magic on her to increase her powers.
Though not possessed, exposure to so much caustic demonic presence in Delectra's soul corrupted her gradually. Victus delved into aspects of demonic magic that allowed him to imbue inanimate objects with a presence. It is believed he used similar methods on his son, Conrad, the only child known to us that was not sacrificed for more demonic powers.
Bile bit the back of my throat. Sacrificed? Delectra had said as much after resurrection, but I'd pushed it from my mind in the hopes it wasn't true. I felt physically ill and had to put down the book.
I half expected Della to say something, but her presence was absent. I wondered if she felt ashamed for Delectra's terrible past. I sensed satisfaction, but it was from Vic. I shuddered to think how monstrous Victus must be.
Max looked up from his enchantments textbook. "What's wrong?"
I told him, and his face went pale as a ghost.
"I thought I knew evil," Max said in a strangled voice. "Victus is way past evil."
Though my hands shook and my stomach roiled, I continued reading. The remaining summary was light on details, but made clear that when Victus had sunk his claws deep enough, there was nothing Delectra wouldn't do for him. The writer described Delectra as the most powerful Arcane of her time, rivaling even Harry Shelton.
Raised as an orphan, Harry Shelton never realized he was related to Delectra.
I started to read Victus's dossier, but the writer did an in-depth psychological profile that quickly bored me.
Victus's parents, once extreme rivals, were Mallory Edison and Jelena Tesla. They married to unite against what was seen as the scourge of magic that threatened to spill into the mortal world and forever change the paradigm. Both vanished shortly after Victus's third birthday. It is theorized that supernatural agents may have been the cause.
It is also unknown who raised Victus to adulthood. Even his journals have a gap in his early years. Either he never wrote of them, or he tucked them away in a place we have never found.
I skipped over more in-depth analysis of his psyche and read how Victus successfully revitalized the Edison name and became one of the most powerful people at Science Academy.
Victus revealed what was to be his greatest creation—a hybrid robot-golem that so successfully mimicked organic beings, that it caused an uproar. Arcanes and scientists alike denounced the invention and ruined his reputation. It was at this point Victus likely began to plot his revenge and stepped onto the road that led to his coronation as Overlord.
The revelation that Victus had created such creatures should have sent chills down my spine, but my father was guilty of far worse sins against nature. The dossier detailed how Victus became obsessed with splicing together supernatural creatures, his creation of the tragon, and his secret expertise in demon magic.
After his death, investigators discovered a secret lab where Victus had sacrificed hundreds of supernaturals and regular people with his experiments. Some wondered if they'd found everything or if it was just the tip of the iceberg.
How can I possibly be related to such a horrendous person? I felt guilty by association even though I was his child. A part of me felt it would have been better had Victus never been born, even if it meant snuffing out my own existence.
By the end of the week, I was able to cast spells without feeling sick. Even so, I didn't attempt Ansel's test right away because I was too busy with schoolwork. Monday came and I began to count down the days until I could see Esma again.
Professor Sideon wasn't in class, which came as a relief to me since I didn't want him to ask me about relic hunting again. His class was taught by Rhonda Podge, a stout woman with no sense of humor. Though she apparently knew next to nothing about enchantments, she kept us busy by asking random questions from the textbook.
It was a joy to escape that class, though my heart hung heavy as we went to Magical Defense. Esma's smiling face met my shocked expression when we walked in. It took all my restraint not to run over and hug her.
"You—you look great!" I said, unable to hide the joy. "I don't understand."
"As I said, it's a chronic condition." She offered a faint smile. "Now, take your seats. I'm eager to get class back on track."
Esma wasted no time putting everyone through their paces, zapping us randomly during her lecture to see who could protect themselves from various attacks. Despite being on edge the entire class, I was beyond relieved to have Esma back and healthy.
The good news kept me energized throughout the rest of the day. When classes were over, I went to the mansion ruins behind the Fairy Garden and practiced with the brass arcwand Ansel had given me. Focusing on a rock the size of my head, I flicked the spell patterns as tightly as possible, focused my will, and let the wand handle the rest.
My timing was much improved over doing it manually. Instead of thirty, seconds, it took me half that time to run the gamut of spells on the rock, and the aether battery seemed to add a little extra zing to my spells.
The spells, fire, air, levitation, and the kinetic power of Torsius didn't do much to the rock except leave it a bit blackened and chipped, but I felt confident I could destroy the portrait Ansel had given me by the time I finished practicing.
I wondered if I could use an avatar to increase my power and actually destroy the rock. I flicked through the pattern for Ignitus, firmed my resolve, and focused on Cora, Max, and Ambria. An orange beam speared from my wand and into the rock. Sparks scattered across the floor and the stone glowed, but it was nowhere near as intense as what I'd achieved in the first test.
I imagined Cora on her deathbed. Grief pooled in my gut like molten lead. Rather than increase my power, the spell sparked and fizzled out. My arm fell to the side, the wand dropped from limp fingers. I felt weak, incapable. Trying to grasp at my avatar was like gripping a double-edged sword. It had worked for me and now against me, but why? What had I done differently?
There was obviously a lot more to it than I realized. Despite the setback, I felt ready to perform Ansel's latest test. I took the portrait and set it against a crumbling wall. Banishing all thought of avatars from my mind, I imagined the face staring out at me from the canvas was Victus. I picked up the arcwand and flicked through the pattern.
The next day after class, I went to Ansel's office. He looked annoyed to see me, but his eyes brightened when I tossed the charred remains of the portrait on his desk. "What next?" I asked.
He laughed and rubbed his hands together. "Very nice, my boy." He waved his wand over the painting and nodded in satisfaction. "Just making sure you didn't cheat and burn it with matches."
"Of course I did
n't!" Cheating had never occurred to me. "How am I supposed to learn if I break the rules?"
Ansel ignored my outburst. He rummaged in his desk and withdrew the Moore genealogy book with the hole burned through the middle and set it on a stool in the corner. "Now, finish what I asked you to do."
I'd anticipated this and produced the brass arcwand. Without a word, I flicked through the patterns. Within seconds, I reduced the book to a blackened, torn corpse.
"Brilliant!" Ansel roared with laughter and nearly tumbled from his perch on the edge of the desk. "And not a drop of vomit to be found."
"Why do you hate Ezzek Moore?" I asked.
His laughter died away. "That's none of your concern, boy. You're here to learn, not ask."
"Do you blame him for Delectra?" I asked.
Ansel's eyes grew dark. "Ask me one more time and you're done."
My face grew warm with anger and frustration. What isn't he telling me? What had warped Ansel into this angry creature? I changed tact. "You'll be happy to know Esma is feeling better."
"Better?" His forehead pinched.
"You didn't know she was sick?"
"You're a curious lad." Ansel plucked the arcwand from my fingers. "Perhaps you'll put that curiosity to good work and learn something. He handed me a blank piece of parchment. "You will write a spell script to fold this into an airplane and make it fly."
"Write a script?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice. "I wouldn't know where to begin."
"I sent you the codex, sweet cousin." Ansel patted my head. "I'm certain you'll figure it out."
"You won't show me?" I asked.
"As I said, put your curiosity to good use." He lunged forward until his face was an inch from mine, eyes glowing with madness. "Read and learn!" he roared. "Don't be a useless child, Conrad! Make something of yourself!"
For the span of seconds, I forgot to breathe, held in thrall by the insanity in the man's eyes. I suspected he'd had a difficult childhood. "Yes, cousin," I whispered.
Ansel blinked and straightened, face a smooth mask. "Do not return until you've completed the lesson." He rolled the wand across his desk to me and waved his hand in a shooing motion. "Now go."
I tucked the arcwand into my back pocket, rolled up the parchment and left. As I neared Arcane University, two people on brooms whisked around one of the towers and zipped toward me. For an instant, I thought the Seers had breached the defenses, but recognized the tall ebony frame of Elliott Cobain and the stocky form of Jenna Nash, the captains of the Moore Keep kabash team.
"Hey, Conrad." Elliott performed a perfect sliding stop and halted parallel to me. "You're a hard person to track down."
"Probably has a girlfriend," Jenna said with a teasing smile.
"Sorry, I've been taking some extra classes," I said.
Elliott's gaze wandered across the valley. "At Science Academy?" He shrugged. "Hey, doesn't matter. What does matter is Kabash tryouts." He leaned on his broom's saddle horn. "Jenna and I are graduating this year and we want to go out on top. Can we count on you to join the team again?"
"You'll be a carry just like last year," Jenna said.
I already felt like a mountain of work sat on my shoulders. Ansel expected me to learn how to code spells without his help, and I had to plan the expedition into the Glimmer. With my normal school work, it didn't seem possible to fit in a sport as well. "I'm really overwhelmed with school this year. I don't know if I can devote the time necessary."
Elliott's smile faded. "I see. We could really use you. Rhys and Devon Tiberius are graduating this year. Their keep is favored to win the cup."
"Do you really want them to go out victors?" Jenna said. "They were such asses to you last year, I thought you might want some revenge."
My face heated with anger as I thought about how they'd threatened me to keep me from playing Kabash. I could help turn the tables and make sure they had a miserable season. But then they'd only come at me harder the next time and divert me from what really mattered—finding the Broken Relic.
I let the anger melt away. "I'm sorry, I just don't have time."
Elliott nodded. "Well, think about it. Max already said he'd rejoin the team this year."
I was a bit surprised to hear that and it must have shown on my face.
"He didn't tell you?" Jenna said.
I tried to play it off. "Like I said, I haven't had a lot of free time." I angled my broom for the keep. "Thank you for the offer." I couldn't manage a smile before flying away.
Max and Ambria were just leaving for dinner when I arrived.
"Didn't know if you were gonna make it," Max said. "We're starving!"
Ambria rolled her eyes. "Did you go see Ansel today?"
"Yeah, I passed his second test." I told them about the new challenge.
"Scripting spells?" Max scratched his head. "Now that's something I'd like to learn."
I snorted wryly. "I don't even know why I need Ansel. He doesn't teach me anything. All he does is give me orders."
"Let's learn together." Max clapped a hand on my back. "Maybe it'll be fun."
"I'd like to learn too," Ambria said.
Their enthusiasm lifted my spirits. "Sure, let's all learn together." After putting my broom away in the room, the three of us walked to the dining hall.
Max ate with his usual gusto and finished well ahead of the rest of us. He opened his mouth as if to speak, took a sip of tea and tried again. "Elliott Cobain paid me a surprise visit earlier. He asked me to join the Kabash team and then said I should make sure you're going to play too."
"Oh, I completely forgot about Kabash," Ambria said.
Max snorted. "As if you care a whit about the game. You can barely stay up on a broom as it is."
"I have too much to do." I broke a piece of bread from the bun on my plate. "Playing a game won't get us any closer to the Broken Relic."
Ambria's expression grew concerned. "Don't you enjoy Kabash?"
"Sure." It was the most fun I've ever had. Unfortunately, fun wasn't something I could afford right now.
Why not? Della said. What's the purpose of life if you can't enjoy it?
I can't enjoy life if I'm dead. The Seers wanted to purify me, and there was no telling when Victus might try to kill me again. I certainly didn't need threats from Rhys and Devon added to my list of worries.
Competition improves you and makes you strong. Della sounded like a mother teaching her child life lessons. All work and no play makes Conrad a dull boy.
I threw up my hands. "But I have too much to do!"
Max and Ambria reared back at the outburst.
"I didn't argue with you," Max said.
Ambria's eyes narrowed. "Is Della talking again?"
"She wants me to enjoy life." I stuffed a piece of bread in my mouth. "Apparently, I don't get enough play time."
"That's for sure." Max sighed. "Conrad, if you're not trying to pass one of Ansel's tests, you're studying or practicing spells. When was the last time you forgot all that and had some fun?"
I thought back to the race against Esma when she took me to see Ansel. That had been fun. Everything else since then had revolved around school and finding the Broken Relic. "Joining the Kabash team means I'll have practice in addition to everything else I'm doing. I just don't think I can manage it."
Managing your time is as important a skill as casting spells, Della said. I played Kabash, raced brooms, and was still the best student.
Were your own parents trying to kill you? I asked. Did you have a secret society breathing down your neck so they could put you through a purifying ritual?
She had no answer for that. There was only so much time in the day and adding one more responsibility would simply be too much. I had to concentrate on what was important and Kabash was not.
Chapter 21
"What a shame you won't be playing." Ambria patted my hand. "But I understand."
Max sighed. "Tiberius Keep is gonna wipe the field with us."
> "I'm sorry." I checked the time and groaned. "I need to start reading the Cyrinthian Codex, and then we've got all that homework from Professor Grace." A poisonous cloud of hopelessness swelled inside my chest. The realization that I wouldn't play Kabash dragged my spirits to the gutter.
Since the codex was on my phone, the only way for all of us to read it was to project the screen in holographic format which wouldn't be wise to do in the keep. We went to Moore's vault for privacy and used a table there. The codex arranged runes based on power and usage with a brief explanation for each one. A separate section contained syntax and usage. At the beginning was a brief definition of the programming language itself.
.ARC is an object-oriented arcnological programming language. All syntax is Cyrinthian with assistance to prevent usage of incorrect runes that might end with disastrous results.
We started plowing through the basics first—how to link wand patterns to start scripts and how to avoid creating a rune paradox which could result in the arcwand or other device exploding.
"Goodness, this sounds terribly dangerous," Ambria said. "Are there any tutorials?"
"Doesn't look like it." Max banged his head on the table. "I'm going cross-eyed just reading this stuff."
I scrolled through the index. "I don't see any walk-through guides, just usage examples."
"Man, if only we had—" Max went silent and looked at the shelves behind us. "Are we stupid or what?"
Ambria sniffed. "No, but you certainly are."
Max ignored her and went to the index book. He thumbed to the front and flipped a few pages before jabbing a finger. "Got it!"
I jogged over and looked at the page.
Arcnology resources – See Nosti, Adam and Shelton, Harry.
Max flipped to the first name and whooped at the listing. "This is just what we need."
We took one of the flying carpets to the proper aisle and found a dusty stack of arctablets on the second level of the shelves. Max picked up one and inspected it. "This is one of the original Orange tablets!" He blew off the dust and sent Ambria into sneezing fits.
