When Darkness Ends(Guardians of Eternity,book 12)(75) by Alexandra Ivy
Cyn lifted his brows. “What spells?”
She hesitated, clearly searching her memory for details. “I’m not entirely sure, but it had something to do with using fey potions.”
“Potions.” A heavy ball of dread lodged in the pit of his stomach.
The human magic alone was dangerous, but with the potions magnifying it . . .
“Yes.” She grimaced, clearly sensing unease. “Father threatened to destroy them if he caught the druids abusing the fey.”
“It seems a few have decided to go rogue,” he muttered, wishing that Sariel had done more than threatened the humans.
“But why would they want to close the portals?”
Cyn felt his fangs lengthen. That, at least, was one question that was easy to answer.
“I would assume they intend to try and finish what the witches started,” he said.
“Rid the world of demons.”
There was a tense silence as she slowly absorbed his words. “Do you think they have Magnus?”
Cyn struggled to disguise the sharp-edged anger that raced through him.
Bloody hell. He was ancient even by vampire standards.
Far too old to be caught in the throes of a petty jealousy.
Or at least he should be.
Unfortunately he couldn’t halt the urge to track down the prince and smash in his too-pretty face.
“It’s possible,” he ground out.
The amber eyes darkened with concern. “Will they hurt him?”
He instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her delicate form.
As if he could physically prevent her from thinking about another man.
No. Not just another man.
The fiancé who she’d once promised to share eternity with.
“Do you care?” he rasped.
She studied him with a puzzled expression. “Of course I care. No matter what happened between us, he’s one of my people.”
Knowing he was being foolish, Cyn returned his attention to their current troubles.
Nothing was more important than halting the Commission from performing the deadly spell.
“We need to share this with Styx,” he said. “Can you travel yet?”
“Yes, but it’s daylight there,” she reminded him.
He rearranged her on his lap, pulling out his cell phone. “Damn,” he muttered as he glanced at the screen. “No service. Can you take us back to my lair?”
She gave a small nod, holding up her hand as the world faded to black.
Anthony stood in the center of the stone circle, dangling an amulet in one hand while he tossed a strand of gray hair into the flames that burned on the altar.
The amulet would allow him to focus his magic, while the hair would call to the one he was seeking.
Muttering the words to his spell in a low breath, he felt a familiar tug of power deep inside him. He allowed it to spread through his body, at last releasing it in a small burst to open a hole in the thick illusions that held his prisoners.
The flames flickered and with an audible pop the magic grasped the druid that Anthony had been seeking, yanking him into the stone circle to land at Anthony’s feet.
The opening slammed shut and Anthony bit back a groan of agony.
Druid magic was intended to work in harmony with nature. When he forced it to mold the environment to meet his needs, there was always a price.
Usually a painful price.
He grasped the edge of the stone altar, waiting for the recoil of magic to pass. The greater the magic, the more unpleasant the whiplash.
At last confident that his knees would hold him upright, Anthony straightened and watched as the elder druid rolled onto his back with a low moan.
The man was dressed in a worn brown robe with his long silver hair pulled into a tail at his nape. His face was narrowed and lined with age, while his hands were swollen from the arthritis that had nearly crippled him over the past few years.
Once Caydeyrn had believed himself to be the oldest and most powerful of the druids. Then Anthony had returned from his latest sabbatical, revealing that he hadn’t died as they’d all hoped.
The fool had tried to condemn Anthony to death, claiming that his determination to rid the world of demons made him a traitor.
It hadn’t taken Anthony long to prove that his place was at the top of the druid hierarchy, and that he was willing to destroy anyone who tried to stand in his way.
With a rattling cough, the elderly man forced open his eyes.
In the firelight he looked every one of his hundred plus years, his narrow face ashen and his pale blue eyes watery as he glared at Anthony.
“You . . . fiend,” he hissed. “You should be shamed to show your face to me.”
Anthony narrowed his gaze as he watched the druid struggle to a seated position.
“The shame is yours, old man,” he spit out, feeling the annoyingly predictable frustration surge through him.
Why could they not understand he was doing this for all of them?
Humans were meant to rule the world, not demons.
To stand aside and allow the evil creatures to maintain their stranglehold on power was nothing less than a sin against nature.
Caydeyrn tilted his chin, putting on his holier-than-thou expression.
“I have lived a righteous life devoted to caring for the weak and the helpless,” he said in lofty tones. “I have protected our mother earth and—”
“You are a coward who sold your soul to demons to protect your own ass.” Anthony interrupted the tediously repeated speech.
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