“Where is he?” I growled. “What have you done with him?”
The lightning-struck scars felt like they were crawling along my skin.
“It was a test,” Randall said, taking a cautious step forward. “He wasn’t really here. It was nothing more than a mirage.”
And even though my heart was breaking because I could hear the truth of it in his voice, I was angry. I was so, so angry at him. “You… tricked me?”
“I needed to see,” he said, “what you were capable of. Sam, can you control it?”
“I’m trying,” I said through gritted teeth.
“It’s so bright,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen something so… expansive. How have I not seen this before?”
“He’s not hurt?” I asked.
He looked startled at this. “No, Sam. I swear to you. Nothing has happened to Ryan. He’s safe. It was a smoke screen. A ghost to bring this out in you so I could see just how far it goes. Now, are you ready?”
The lightning grew brighter and I—
—DIDN’T KNOW what to think about him. About Myrin. About this whole… thing. Why him? Why me? Out of everyone in the world, why the two of us? He had made the decisions he’d made before I ever existed. I am nothing to him. He is nothing to me.
But that might not be exactly right.
I am the strongest wizard in an age, or so it’s been said.
And he wants to consume that strength.
Morgan and Randall did their best, I think. With him. Maybe not the best, but what they thought was right. In the end, it was still a mistake. They should have ended things—ended him—when they had the chance.
I can say that, though, can’t I?
Because I wasn’t there.
What if it was Gary? Or Tiggy?
What if it was Ryan?
Could I sit here and say the same thing, then? Could I have ended things? It would be the right thing to do. It would be the only thing to do.
And yet wouldn’t I do everything in my power to try and save them? To save him?
You bet your ass I would.
There is nothing I wouldn’t do.
Even if it meant banishing any one of them to a realm where they would stay until….
Holy shit.
Where they would stay until I could one day find a way to save them.
Is that it?
Is that what you two have done?
Oh my gods.
You thought—
You thought that one day you could save him.
Have you been trying to find a way all this time?
You have, haven’t you?
The both of you.
You thought that you could find a way to bring him back.
The shadow realm was his prison.
But it was always meant to be temporary.
The keys were given to guardians.
How could you not have known after everything?
Were you deliberately blind when Vadoma came?
Or did you know?
Did you know it would be him, even though he wasn’t named?
Did you think you still had enough time?
Of course you did.
Because if you could bring a king back from madness, you could bring your cornerstone, your brother, back from the dark.
Containment.
Compression.
Like it was in Mama’s office. With Feng.
Only this time the fire didn’t go out.
It grew until it raged.
And that’s what Myrin wanted.
He was waiting—
—FOR ME in the labs. I hadn’t spoken to him in four days, not after the whole Ryan mirage incident. I had been so pissed at him for tricking me that I’d stormed off, staying in my room, only coming out late at night when the castle was dark and silent to scrounge for food in the kitchen. The third day, I thought I heard Randall standing outside my door, but no knock ever came, and I told myself I was hearing things. I’d been standing shirtless in front of a full-length mirror next to an ancient wardrobe, tracing the scars across my chest, trying to find a pattern that would make sense. I wondered if Myrin had the same marks upon him now. I thought it was possible.
But on the fourth day, I was done. With all of this.
So I found myself in the labs, clutching my Grimoire to my chest, wondering if I was doing the right thing. I told myself I was, but I couldn’t be sure. I had so many questions. I was conflicted. My heart hurt for Morgan. For Randall. For myself, for being put into this position.
Randall sat in front of the fire, hands in his lap, a vacant look on his face. He looked smaller than I’d ever seen him. More frail. His skin was pale, his face heavily lined and wrinkled.
I coughed.
He looked up, startled.
“Hi,” I said quietly.
“Sam. I see you’re out and about.”
“Astute observation, as always.” I cringed internally at the unintentional snark.
He smiled. It was faint, but it was there. “Something you know very little about, I’m sure.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief, my shoulders losing their tension. There was something normal about the way Randall and I sniped at each other. It put me more at ease.
I took another step toward him, trying to find the right words to say… what, exactly? I wasn’t quite sure, but I knew I needed to say something. After everything I’d learned, after what I’d figured out about Randall and Morgan and Myrin, something needed to be said.
But maybe I’d already said enough. Or rather, everything I needed to say. Because a wizard’s Grimoire was their legacy, a wizard’s Grimoire was their journal, but it was also a way for them to work out problems until there was a solution, to give voice to thoughts that couldn’t necessarily be said aloud. Morgan had taught me that.
So when I said, “I’m ready,” I meant it.
The fire snapped and crackled as he stared at me for the longest time. I tried not to squirm as I held his gaze. Finally he said, “Are you?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I have to be,” I said honestly. “It’s the only way that I stand a chance—that we stand a chance. You and Morgan have told me that a wizard is supposed to have his secrets. But I don’t know if I can do that anymore. They’re heavy, Randall. The weight of them. And I’m tired of carrying them on my own. Aren’t you?”
He smiled sadly at me. “More than you could possibly know.”
I nodded as I moved forward. I didn’t stop until he was within arm’s reach. I could feel the heat of the fire. I hesitated, but it was only for a moment.
Then I held out my Grimoire.
He looked at it for a moment, then back up at me. “Is this what you’ve been working on in your room?”
“Yes.”
“And in it are your secrets?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“I will ask you one last time, Sam of Wilds. Are you sure?”
My answer was pressing the corner of the Grimoire into the side of his face. It slid until it squished against his nose.
He frowned at me.
“C’mon,” I muttered, poking him with it again. “Take it. Take it.”
“You always were a child,” he grumbled at me, snapping it out of my hand.
I shrugged, trying to quell my nerves. “You wouldn’t expect me to behave any other way.”
“I suppose I wouldn’t.”
I sat in the chair opposite him, fighting the urge to flee the room and quite possibly the castle itself.