Chapter 43: The Crumbling Council
I don’t know if I wanted to show Scarlette how wrong she was or if I wanted to believe Faragonda was innocent. Perhaps I just wanted space from Lumera.
With all my thoughts running wild inside of me, we hurried towards the council room. After all, that’s where Faragonda and Devyn were asked to remain, for a council meeting that did not happen.
Then I turned to the corridor with Scarlette beside me only to see the most appalling picture of laziness.
The guards lining the corridor were slumped against the walls, snoring, some even drooling.
"Wake up! You goons!" I barked, shaking the nearest by the shoulders. No response. Their chests rose and fell steadily, trapped in unnaturally deep sleep.
"Wait..." Scarlette tugged my arm. "Someone attacked them," she said as her eyes scanned the lingering traces of magic. A thin film of silver-blue dust shimmered on the ground.
A soft hum of energy buzzed from the sealed door ahead. Blue light pulsed through the engravings—eerily similar to what I’d seen before.
"Is that—"
"Anti-Magic Mages," Scarlette cut in, her voice tight. "The same blue glow we saw from Richard’s death."
My pulse spiked. Faragonda. Devyn. Were they attacked while we were with Lumera?
I slammed the door open, Scarlette behind me. Devyn lay crumpled on the floor, his chest heaving in shallow gasps. A glowing blue sigil burned bright on his forehead.
"Devyn—what happened?" Scarlette knelt beside him, desperately channeling her magic.