Chapter 92 Three Generations
ARYA
“Because the weakening is gradual. Each generation, the spell deteriorates further. But it accelerates if the bloodline is in danger or if Moonborne power is heavily used in certain ways.” Bardon’s expression was apologetic. “Like cleansing massive amounts of dark magic from a sacred spring. Twice.”
The implications hit me like a physical blow. “I accelerated his release. By cleansing the Moonwell, I weakened the spell keeping him imprisoned.”
“You didn’t know—”
“Doesn’t matter! He’s escaping because of me!” I stood, pacing. “Everything I’ve done to reclaim my heritage, to honor my family—I’ve been helping him the whole time!”
“Arya—” Luca started.
“Don’t. Don’t tell me it’s not my fault. Don’t tell me I couldn’t have known.” I whirled to face them. “How long? How long until he’s free?”
Bardon hesitated. “Based on the current degradation rate and the recent power surges from your magical use… weeks. Maybe a month at most.”
“And when he’s free?”
“Then he’ll be at full power. Eight hundred years of accumulated magical energy, plus whatever he’s learned during his imprisonment.” Bardon’s tone was clinical, but I heard the fear beneath it. “He’ll be more powerful than any Moonborne in recorded history. Including you.”
“Fantastic. Just fantastic.” I laughed, the sound bitter. “So we have a few weeks to figure out how to stop an all-powerful ancestor who’s been planning his revenge for centuries. Easy.”
“We’ve faced worse,” Luca said.
“Have we? When?”
“Last month. When we fought Theron and a coalition army and won.”
“That was different. Theron was mortal, stupid, and predictable. Mordecai is—” I gestured helplessly. “He’s family. He has my blood. Probably knows Moonborne magic better than I do. How do we fight that?”
“The same way we fight everything. Together. Strategically. And with copious amounts of violence if necessary.” Luca moved to stand beside me. “But Arya, you need to understand something. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”
“I accelerated his release—”
“You saved thousands of lives by cleansing that corruption. You built a movement that’s changing the world. You did everything right. The fact that it had unintended consequences doesn’t make it wrong.”
“Luca’s correct,” Bardon added. “If you hadn’t cleansed the Moonwell, the corruption would have spread. Eventually destroyed all Moonborne magic, everywhere. You chose the lesser evil.”
“It doesn’t feel lesser.”
“It rarely does.” Bardon began gathering his texts. “But we don’t have time for guilt. We need to prepare. Research his weaknesses. Develop countermeasures. Strengthen your own power.”
“How do I strengthen my power enough to fight someone who’s been alive for a thousand years?”
“You don’t fight him alone. You fight him with allies. With strategy. With the combined strength of every species in the unity movement.” Bardon paused at the door. “He’s expecting an individual opponent. Give him an army instead.”
After he left, Luca pulled me close. “He’s right. You don’t have to face this alone.”
“But I do have to face it. Eventually. He’s my ancestor. My blood. My responsibility.”
“Our responsibility. We’re bonded, remember? Your battles are my battles.”
“Even when they’re against my evil relatives?”
“Especially then. I’ve always wanted to punch someone from your family.”
Despite everything, I smiled. “That’s probably not healthy.”
“Probably not. But it’s honest.” He kissed my forehead. “Now, what do we do first?”
“First? First, we call a council meeting. Everyone needs to know what’s coming.” I took a breath. “Then we start preparing for war. Again. Because apparently that’s just our life now.”
“Could be worse.”
“How?”
“We could be doing this separately instead of together.”
“True.” I leaned into him. “Thank you. For not running away when you found out my family is full of homicidal maniacs.”
“Please. My family tree includes three genocides, two attempted coups, and one king who declared war on his own reflection because he thought it was mocking him.” Luca’s tone was dry. “Your evil ancestor is practically normal by comparison.”
“That’s disturbing.”
“Royalty is disturbing.”
LUCA
“This can’t be right,” Arya muttered, staring at the ancient text. “This absolutely cannot be right.”
We’d been in the royal archives for six hours, researching Mordecai and void spells and anything that might help us stop him. The air was thick with dust and old magic, and my mortal body was starting to protest the extended sitting.
Getting old sucked.
“What did you find?” I asked, moving to look over her shoulder.
“According to this, void spells don’t just trap someone in another dimension. They… feed on them. Drain their power slowly over time to maintain the prison.” She looked up at me, horror in her eyes. “Luca, if this is accurate, Mordecai isn’t breaking free because the spell is weakening. He’s breaking free because he’s grown strong enough to overpower it.”
“How is that possible? The spell should have been draining him—”
“Unless he found a way to reverse it. To feed off the spell instead of being fed on.” She turned back to the text. “It talks about a technique called ‘parasitic inversion.’ Essentially, you turn the spell against itself, using its own power to strengthen yourself.”
“That’s… actually brilliant.”
“That’s terrifying. It means he’s not just powerful. He’s had centuries to study magic while imprisoned. To experiment with techniques no one else would dare try. To become something more than just a Moonborne.”
“What do you mean more than—”
A crash from the archives’ upper level cut me off. We both froze, listening.
Angry voices. And the sound of fighting.
“Stay here,” I commanded, already moving toward the stairs.
“Like hell.” Arya was right behind me, power already gathering in her hands.
We emerged on the upper level to find chaos. Three figures in black robes were rifling through the restricted section, magical barriers shattered around them. Two archive guards lay unconscious on the floor.
“Stop!” I roared, power flooding my voice.
One of the figures turned. He looked scared.
“We need the texts,” the figure said. “The Moonborne succession documents. We’re not leaving without them.”
“You’re not leaving at all.” I moved forward, but Arya grabbed my arm.
“Wait. Those robes—” She stepped forward. “You’re Mordecai’s followers, aren’t you?”