Page 50 of The Endless One

“It’s a thought.” Elric seemed troubled by the ask. “We could… maybe make that happen.”

“I know the way to do it. You’d have to take the magic from her yourself, and then spread it to the others. I don’t think it would be comfortable, but we should at least try it. Perhaps if we do it regularly, we can drain whatever afflicts her as well.”

Jessamine could feel hope burning in her chest. It wasn’t killing him, and that much she would take. “Yes. That’s perfect. Why don’t we do that?”

She looked excitedly at Elric, only to feel her excitement drain the moment she saw his expression. His wrinkled brows and thinly pressed line of a mouth suggested he didn’t think it would work. But that surely couldn’t be the end of it all. It had to work. There had to be another way.

“I’ll do it,” he murmured. “But it will hurt.”

“I’m not afraid of pain.”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze when he replied, “I know, nightmare. I just hate to hear that.”

Elric wasn’t certain this was the right path, but it was the path he had been bid to follow. A spell like what they needed to drain Jessamine of her magic would be complicated, difficult, certainly far more than what any of the coven members had ever done before. Which meant he needed them to make more sacrifices. To gather as many magical objects as they could and destroy them. Then it would be a twofold gift for him. One in the form of their sacrifice, and another in the form of the magic they released from the object.

Many of them headed off to other districts, as they were now safe to traverse without a single person awake in this kingdom. What the infected and the dead didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Stealing felt easier in times like these. Though he had never minded it.

While they did that, he watched the core coven do their best to keep Jessamine alive. She was exhausted at the best of times. Sometimes the seizures struck her again, although he knew now it was just the gravesingers reaching out to her, trying their best to give her more information, which they believed she needed.

But something still didn’t sit right with him, and he would not let this continue without getting answers for himself.

Elric took his time finding the right place to hide himself while all the witches were preparing for the spell. Though he knew they would follow whatever orders Jessamine said, he still didn’t trust them with his vacant body while his mind returned to his realm. He needed to speak to the gravesingers themselves, if they were capable of it.

He knew what they would say. The god his coven had chosen to worship wasn’t strong enough to stop the God King, and there had once been a coven capable of doing so. Why should they not follow in the footsteps of those who had come before them and make something truly miraculous happen?

The coven was susceptible to such influence. Their home was now a kingdom of the dead. He’d walked the streets with them, listening to the moaning sounds of all the infected who had finally awoken and broken free from his spell. He would never forget the sound of their fingernails scratching the doors and the way their palms had slapped against reinforced windowpanes.

Elric could do very little to save those who were already affected by Ajax’s spell. Now, he wanted to make sure that this path would actually save them all, before he put all of his faith in those who were already dead.

The castle had a small area deep in its belly where those who worshipped the gods could go. He had expected that many of those old rooms would have been destroyed long ago. Especially something that had once been dedicated to him.

But someone in this castle had worshipped the Deathless One until only months ago, it seemed. He had to slip through quite a few servants’ quarters, and even then, the room was so far into the depths of the castle, down so many winding stairwells, he thought anyone trying to find him would likely get lost in the process.

The room was the size of a coat closet. But someone had taken the time to carve into the stone and create a divot large enough to hide an effigy of him.

It was little more than a carved wooden stick, but he could see his likeness in it. The artist had taken great care to ensure his features were accurate, and they’d even burned the hair to give the definition of darkness. Melted candles surrounded the figure, speaking of someone who had sent many prayers in his direction. Prayers that would always go unanswered while he was dead. And since he’d been alive, he had a lot more to do than answer to those who did not serve him.

“Curious,” he muttered, picking up the figure that was stuck to the stone with wax. “This is years of time and energy. Years of someone here, in the heart of all those who hated my people.”

There were surprises everywhere, he supposed. Although this one was a little more surprising than most.

He curled himself on the floor, with his back against the hole someone had spent hours upon hours carving. And then he tilted his head against the stone, ensuring his legs were pressed against the door so that anyone trying to enter the room would have a hard time getting in.

Then he drifted. Elric let his conscious mind return to the realm he had escaped not that long ago. The darkness swallowed him up almost immediately, but he allowed it this time.

The realm beyond held secrets for him, too. He had plans to ensure he knew every single one of them before he left again.

He conjured clothing for his body. Pants that were comfortably loose around his legs, a button-down shirt that was opened at his chest. Simple clothing. Clothing he would have worn outside of this realm, and perhaps would convince the gravesinger spirits that he wasn’t as much of a threat as they thought he was.

But the moment he arrived where he had them chained, he knew that was a losing battle. Of course they would question his reason for being there. He’d chained them up, cut them multiple times, forced them to remain here when they could have moved on to wherever human souls went. He was the demon in their stories.

Just seeing them like this hurt. It was the first time he’d looked at them and felt guilt. They had always been the reason he didn’t trust witches. A symbol for all the things he had done wrong and all the ways he could have been better. But now, looking at those smudges of spirits who were barely the women they once were, he wondered if he had maybe been too harsh on them.

Crouching just out of their reach, he looked for those who had freed themselves. A few of them had loose limbs, but none of them were entirely without bindings.

Elric lifted a hand. “I took your voices many years ago. How you are speaking to her, I have no clue. But I give you your voices back for a few moments to answer my questions.”