Fallen Magic

I stare at Edward for a long moment, trying to pretend I didn’t just hear him advocate for knowing, deliberate murder.

“I don’t want the throne of Rasin,” Isabelle said. “I don’t want anything to do with it. I abdicate any claim I have. I’ll swear whatever oaths you like.”

“And then you can claim it was under duress and didn’t count. Besides, what you want doesn’t matter if anyone with ambitions turns you into their puppet.”

“I’m not letting you kill her,” I say firmly, once my mind has caught up with events and I’ve managed to suspend my shock. It’s not as if I can stop him, when he has a knife at her throat. But I can’t just stand there and watch them casually debate whether she should be killed. “Isabelle. For the sake of argument, let’s suppose we believe you don’t want the throne.” I ignore Edward’s snort of disbelief. “What do you want?”

“I told you”, she says. “To open Cyrus’s Tomb.”

“Why?” I ask.

She laughs. “Why wouldn’t you? It could contain relics of the Mages. Items enchanted in ways no present-day magician could dream of. The secrets to what the Mages really are – what we are. Tell me you don’t want to learn those secrets.”

I can’t tell her that. Because I do want those answers. And there’s a little part of me squealing internally about priceless historical value, though I tell myself firmly that now isn’t the time to consider that.

But I also don’t exactly trust her, after everything she’s done today.

“Maybe that’s true. But what makes you think you’ll benefit from this? It’s not as if you have a way to escape.”

“She does,” I realise. It’s the only thing that makes sense. “Why would she knowingly put herself in a position where her only options are death or something she’d find worse?”

“Either that,” Edward says, “or she knows something we don’t about this tomb. Something that’ll change everything if it’s opened.”

“Tallulah is right,” Isabelle says. “I do have a way out. You’ll forgive me for not telling you what it is, given the circumstances. And I don’t know what’s in the tomb – but I do have a suspicion that it’s the thing I want most in the world. The Mages’ miracle.”

It takes me a second to work out what she means. “Esteral,” I say, disbelieving. “Resurrection.”

She nods.

“And you need us,” I say. “If you want to repeat that miracle.”

She shrugs. “Probably.”

“Which is why you’re doing… this,” I say, things finally falling into place. “Because you need our help for that, which you can’t possibly get by doing things… well, Sylvia’s way.”

I wonder suddenly what Isabelle did to her. Whether she’s even still alive. How I never thought of that before – though to be fair, I’ve had a lot of other things to think about, and it’s a wonder my mind isn’t completely overwhelmed –

It’s not a wonder. It’s because of the anomaly. That’s the only thing stopping me from just shutting down out of pure shock.

Is it really what gave the original Mages their power? I can understand how it would provide certain advantages, but I struggle to believe that it would have been enough alone.

I notice that I’m not particularly concerned about Sylvia, even though I should be. Whatever she did to us, and would have done to us, I should at least care whether she’s alive. Is it the anomaly that’s making me not care? It’s dangerous if so. Whatever Edward and I do next will matter a lot.

And I want it to be me who’s making those decisions.

I pad back around the table to check on Sylvia, conscious that Edward and Isabelle are both watching me.

“She’s fine,” Isabelle says. “It’s just a sleep spell. Do whatever you want with her.”

I crouch down beside Sylvia’s collapsed form. She’s breathing, and there’s a pulse in her neck. I report as much to Edward, who only asks if there’s any chance that she’ll wake up soon.

“I don’t know exactly how long sleep spells last,” Isabelle replies. “But if she does wake, I think the three of us can handle her without too much trouble.”

I realise suddenly that I’m the one who seems to care the most about her, and I’m the only one who isn’t related to her. I know Edward must feel betrayed by her, but I’d expect him to at least wonder whether his mother was dead or alive.

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Except – oh. Of course.

Given what Edward has already been through, he would have found the kidnapping far more traumatising than I would. It might as well have been his worst nightmare come to life. Which means there’s only one reason he hasn’t already had an active episode.

He’s also being influenced by the anomaly. Except where I used it to give myself a chance of fighting back, he’s just been using it to stay vaguely sane and not destroy everything around us. That explains his lack of care for his mother, and the ruthlessness of his reaction as soon as Isabelle released him.

And it makes what comes next far more dangerous. Because the boy in the cavern with me isn’t my best friend. He’s ruthless, focused, cold. And if I try too hard to get Edward back from the grips of the anomaly? I risk letting Malaina take over instead.

Stars.

I don’t know if I can do this.

“I’m asking a lot of you,” Isabelle says. “So I suppose it’s only right that I offer a lot in return. When we repeat the original Esteral, the two of you will choose who we bring back from the dead.”

It feels like my mind is being shattered several times a minute. Quite possibly faster than I can put it back together again.

“When,” Edward says. “You’re making a lot of assumptions there.”

“True,” Isabelle admits. “But I believe in myself. I believe in the three of us. And that’s all I need, really.”

I wonder who I’d bring back from the dead, if I had a choice. I’ve never lost anyone I truly, deeply cared about. I think of the High Princess, lying in state somewhere above us. Her resurrection would solve a lot of the country’s newfound problems.

It would also be incredibly, unmistakably public.

The world would know the Mages had returned. They’d know what I was.

And stars, I don’t know if I could survive that.

“Tell me, then. How does this resurrection actually work?”

Isabelle shrugs. “I won’t know until we open the tomb. What I do know is that it consists of an alchemical component and a ritual component. Creation, and then sacrifice of the creation.”

“How do we know you’re not just lying to our faces?”

“We’ve established that I need you,” Isabelle replies easily. “For more than just opening the Tomb, because otherwise I would have gone along with Sylvia’s plan until it was open. Given which, I would be an utter fool to already be plotting to betray you.”

Her reasoning makes the assumption that she could have shut down my plan with the knife. And that Edward and I would have opened the tomb eventually rather than face what Sylvia would have done to us. But I think there’s a reasonable chance that both of those assumptions are true.

“What was Sylvia’s plan?” I ask.

“Assuming that she was honest with me? Open the Tomb and take whatever was inside. Then slip out through the tunnels and meet with our backer. And before you say anything, no, I don’t have a name for you. Just that they were someone who told her how to find this place, and disabled the wards that would have ordinarily stopped us.”

“Not all the wards.”

“Oh, you noticed that? That wasn’t supposed to be there. I don’t know who put it there, or why.”

“What would have happened to us?” Edward asks. “In that plan?”

Isabelle grimaces. “That was the price the backer demanded in exchange for their help. Two Mages, one of them the son of Lord Blackthorn himself, would be worth more than any treasure. That’s one of the reasons I suspected Sylvia would have betrayed me, if I hadn’t got there first. Because why stop at two when you could have all three?”

Stars. How calmly she contemplates those things, as well.

“If what you’re saying is right,” Edward says, “then that kind of conspiracy…”

“I should probably mention it has someone fairly high up in the Sirgalese government involved, as well. Though I’m sure Lord Blackthorn could work that part out on his own.”

I blink.

“But anyway. I’ll let you and him untangle the conspiracy on your own time. Do we have a deal? Will you help me to open the Tomb?”

“You don’t take anything from it,” Edward says. “Except whatever you need for the Esteral business.”

“That’s fair enough,” Isabelle agrees without hesitation.

“Tallulah?” he asks.

What I feel in that moment reminds me a little of the moments just before I Fell. The feeling that I’m standing on a precipice, and if I let myself fall then nothing will ever be the same again.

Except this time, nothing will ever be the same again regardless of what I choose. The revelations of the last few minutes are enough to ensure that.

Not opening the Tomb is the safe option. It doesn’t really change much beyond what’s already been changed.

If we open it, and Isabelle is telling the truth, then we could find priceless artefacts and enchanted items. Things that could revolutionise the study of magic and of history. Not to mention the potential of recreating Esteral.

I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound very tempting indeed. And we might not ever get another chance to do this.

If she’s telling the truth.

It’s a question of whether I trust her, then, I suppose. At least to not be lying to us about this.

I take a breath. Silently pray that I won’t regret the words I’m about to say.

“Yes. Let’s do it.”

It feels like a moment that should have more ceremony attached. But it’s quite simple, really: Edward summons the knife to himself and tucks it into a pocket of his robes, and then we take up our positions. What happened earlier, when Edward and I were propped up unable to move, somehow feels like a pale shadow of now.

“I’ll have to turn out the light,” Isabelle says, “if I’m going to channel magic.”

In answer, Edward summons his own ball of light, a warm gold to her pure white. “I can do both,” he says.

“…right. Two schools of magic. I’d be jealous if I didn’t have my alchemy.”

Implying that she sees alchemy as magic in its own right. Given what she did to us with her creation, it’s hard to argue that she’s wrong.

I place my hand inside the circle carved into the stone and take a deep breath. Edward and Isabelle mirror me, Isabelle snuffing out her light-spell.

I channel a little magic into the circle. It feels suddenly warmer to the touch, and a moment later starlit-silver light begins to flow out of the circle and through the lines carved into the surface of the table. Not just from my circle, but from the other two as well, spreading through the table. It reminds me unexpectedly of biology lessons. The veins through which blood circulates. Except with magic. And hopefully the stone isn’t any form of animate. Hopefully we’re not awakening a sleeping monster.

The streams of magical light meet in the centre of the table, and there’s a blinding flash of silver. And then – nothing. The lights disappear, leaving only Edward’s golden orb to illuminate the cavern.

There’s a moment of silence. Edward increases the brightness of his orb and moves his hand to shine it onto the table. Or what’s left of it: there’s now a circular hole about six feet across in the centre.