HE SMILED. When he saw me.
I wanted to kill him.
“Randall,” he said. “I—”
Morgan barely escaped.
If he returns, it will be the last thing he does.
I CAN breathe.
The sun, it’s… bright today.
A WOMAN named Vadoma came from the desert.
Morgan seems disturbed.
I think she’s a liar.
HIS NAME is Sam.
His name is Sam, and he’s real.
I wonder what he’ll be like?
HE’S AN asshole.
MORGAN WANTS to tell him the truth.
He wants to put upon his shoulders the weight of his destiny.
No.
No, we can’t do that.
Not if it never comes to pass.
Maybe the gods were wrong.
HE HAS a cornerstone.
Because of course he does.
I want to strangle him as much as I want to keep him safe.
That idiot child.
IT’S MYRIN.
I should have seen that coming.
Because of course he would find a way.
Tenacious. Always.
Why do I still love him? After everything?
I COULD….
Death is a cleansing.
It frees you from the shackles of this world.
The veil is crossed.
Sins are forgiven.
And Sam….
Well, he can bring things back, can’t he?
He doesn’t know I know.
I could….
I must think on it.
I CLOSED Randall’s Grimoire, mind racing.
Ryan lay sleeping beside me in the bed, his hand curled against my hip.
It was late, and my eyes were burning. The candlelight flickered low.
Randall had said I’d find the answers I needed between these pages.
But so far all I’d gotten was that Randall and Morgan were fucking liars and that every wizard treated their Grimoire like a dia—a journal.
“Give you so much crap,” I whispered tiredly.
They hadn’t seen Myrin coming. Or by the time they had, it’d been too late.
They’d underestimated him.
Much like Myrin had done to me.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to be seeing.
It was curious, though.
Both Morgan and Randall had written that magic came from the mind.
That it was like imagination.
Why can’t you just wish him away, Mama had said.
Why indeed?
There were rules, right?
Ceilings.
It wasn’t limitless.
But hadn’t I always been told normal rules didn’t apply to me?
That I wasn’t like those that had come before me.
What if I could—
“Why’re you still awake?” Ryan mumbled next to me.
I startled a little. “Thinking.”
“About?”
“Wizarding things.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“Maybe.”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Need help?”
Don’t ever leave me. “Not now. Not tonight. Sleep. It’s late.”
“You too.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
As I slid down in the bed, he pulled the comforter up and over our shoulders. We lay on his pillow, our noses and knees bumping together. The candle sputtered, the shadows dancing along his glittering eyes.
He said, “You can’t do anything stupid.”
I snorted. “You might need to clarify that.”
“Self-sacrificing.”
I hesitated.
“Sam,” he said, taking my hand in his. “Promise me.”
“But what if—”
“No. There’s no what-if. It’s not an option.”
“We don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“We don’t. But that doesn’t mean—”
“I won’t.”
He searched my face. I didn’t know if he found what he was looking for, but he nodded slowly. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Then that means you can’t do it either. And you can’t pull your but I’m a knight and I have to be chivalrous and stupid and flourish my sword like an asshole so everyone loves me.”
“I don’t sound like that.”
“Pretty much.”
“You’re so dumb.”
“Yeah, but that seems to be something you like.”
He smiled slow and sweet before reaching out and tracing a finger over my eyebrows. “I guess so. Randall’s planning something, isn’t he?”
“I think so.” But so was I.
“I’m not going to like it, am I.”
“Probably not. I mean, it’s a plan. From Randall. I doubt anyone is going to like it.”
“You don’t think….”
I frowned. “What?”
“I mean, I know it’s not—but. You don’t think he’d…. What if he’s still trying to save Myrin? What if he’s using you?”
And Sam….
Well, he can bring things back, can’t he?
You think… that if he were to die, I could bring him back. And he would be… cleansed?
Yes. But I am wrong about that, Sam. We were wrong. To keep him trapped in the shadow realm, to not have ended this when we had the chance.
You knew. About the bird. You already knew. And… what. You were going to use me?
The briefest of thoughts. It did cross my mind. Then I remembered the truth of all things. Myrin has chosen his path, and he will continue upon it, no matter what we do. And I realized that death is final, Sam. Death is the end. It is the cleansing of life, the breaking of the shackles. It is an ending. You cannot course-correct that ending, even though your heart is aching.
“I trust him,” I said simply.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Sleep,” I told him.
He did.
AND EVEN though I should have left it for the light of day, I couldn’t wait. Ryan was snoring softly; the fire was barely crackling. Just embers, really. The candle was almost gone. All I wanted to do was sink back down into the mattress, curl up next to Ryan, and follow him into sleep.
But Myrin’s Grimoire sat on the table near the window.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to relax.
I opened them a moment later.
“Just a peek,” I said. “A few pages. Then I’ll go to bed. I’ve already read part of it, right? Just a little more.”
I glanced back at Ryan, his mouth slack, a little bit of drool on his chin.
If only his knights could see him now.
I got up from the bed.
I’d always been taught that once a wizard was ready, he would need to bind his Grimoire with the skin of a fallen enemy defeated in battle or a material hard-won in the face of adversity. It was done to seal the magic inside. To make it go from theory to reality.
Morgan’s was covered in beautiful crystals taken from a cave far in the jungles of the east. He’d nearly lost his life, as the irate cave troll hadn’t wanted to part with its pretties. But he’d managed to best the troll without killing it and bound the crystals to his Grimoire.
Randall’s Grimoire was made from wood from Mujor, a tree the elves believed kept the sky from falling. The wood was dark and hardened, almost like stone, and it’d been a gift after Randall had earned the trust of the elven king.
Both materials were hard-won.
Myrin’s Grimoire was bound with the skin of a siren, crusted and hard and stretched so thin it was almost translucent. The way the stories went, the siren was a particularly nasty sort, causing ships to crash into rocks, killing all those aboard who were unable to resist the song.
I wondered if it was that simple.
I pressed my hand against the cover.
It almost felt… wet.
I told myself to go back to bed.
Instead I opened the book and began to read.
FROM THE Grimoire of Myrin the Bright Star: Magic is… everything.
It is everywhere.
And I will find a way to master it all.
I FOUND Randall sitting on the porch the next morning, eyes closed as he breathed in and out slowly.
He didn’t acknowledge me as I sat next to him, but he knew I was there.
I waited, putting my thoughts in order, wanting to make sure what I said next was the right thing. My head was full near to bursting.
“So,” I finally said.
“So,” Randall said, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“I did what you asked.”
“Hmm.”
“And you can never give me shit about my Grimoire ever again. Because, dude, total diaries. All of yours. It was awful, if I’m being honest.”
“Is that so.”
“And your prose is a little purple for my tastes.”
“Everyone’s a critic.”
“But I know now why you wanted me to do it. To read them.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me.