Chapter 54 The Quiet Dies
It didn’t take long for the quiet to die.
An impact hammered the chamber doors, once, twice, then they slammed open, echoing off the runed walls like gunshots. Oliver stumbled in, jacket half-shredded, hands bright with fresh blood and not all of it his own. He braced on the archway, wheezing, eyes wild as an animal run to ground.
“Shit,” Delia blurted, catching him before he fell. “You look like a thunderstorm’s chew toy.”
He flashed her a grin, more teeth than humor. “Better than looking like a lizard,” he wheezed, then caught sight of Daisy and nearly dropped the joke. “You’re awake.”
Daisy tried to sit up, managed a shallow incline before the scales along her spine locked up. Her voice came out raw. “Didn’t want to miss the party.”
Oliver scanned the room, reading the tension in every face. “We’ve got a problem.” He tossed something onto the altar. It skidded across the stone and landed against Daisy’s hand, a child’s marble, but glowing, fizzing with blue-white light. “They’re calling it the Spark. Slums are full of it now. Every brat and grifter and grannie suddenly thinks they’re a mage.”
Samuel frowned, turning the marble in his fingers. “Awakening events are that common?”
Oliver nodded, wiped a streak of soot from his mouth. “City’s gone feral. Kids floating furniture down the alleys, some street gangs froze half a block solid. Even saw an old lady walk out of her sickbed and heal a riot cop’s broken leg before beating him with it. The nobles are losing their minds.”
Delia’s mouth hung open. “That’s not how magic is supposed to work. It’s hereditary, or you need training…”
Oliver interrupted, voice shaking. “Doesn’t matter. The city’s eating it up. Anyone without a birthright who lights up gets grabbed by the new guard. The ones with real power, they’re dragging them to the Noble Quarter for ‘processing.’ Anyone else, they just kill.”
Daisy’s vision warped at the edges. She blinked hard and tried to focus, but the world was double-exposed, one layer her own sight, the other Xeris’s, drinking in the panic like nectar.
Samuel passed the marble to Maribel, whose hands barely trembled as she turned it in the light. “This is new. Is it spreading?”
Oliver snorted. “Like bedbugs. Or worse. And everyone’s blaming you, Smithson.” He didn’t sound mad about it, more impressed.
Daisy’s hand flexed, claws scraping the altar’s edge. “They’re scared.”
Delia patted her arm, then winced when her fingers hit scales. “What are we supposed to do, Daisy? If the nobles clamp down, they’ll torch half the city.”
Maribel’s voice cut through, sharper than before. “It won’t be half. If they’re desperate, they’ll finish what they started centuries ago.”
Samuel glanced at Daisy, then at the others. “We need to organize. Keep the awakened out of sight, or at least arm them. Daisy, can you move?”
Daisy tried to rise, failed, then let herself fall back to the stone. The scales on her arms itched, then ignited with a heat that felt less like fever and more like a warning. “I’ll manage.”
Delia poured something into Daisy’s mouth. Bitter, herbal, and strong enough to momentarily clear her head.
Oliver paced the edge of the room, eyeing the exit. “There’s more. They’re broadcasting executions. Dragging people into the street, making examples.” He looked at Daisy, something like an apology in his eyes. “One of them was your friend, Chavez, the fence from the old block.”
The world snapped into focus. Daisy’s jaw clenched, a rumble deep in her chest.
Then the second impact: the arrival of Cornelius, flanked by two battered mercs. His coat was gone, replaced by a bandolier of warding talismans, and a saber hung easily at his hip.
He ignored the others and went straight to Daisy. “There’s no time. Ravensworth lives. He’s in the mountains, pulled the rest of the old blood with him. They’ve got a cabal working to build a counter-ward, something that’ll wipe the city clean if the Spark isn’t contained.”
Samuel’s face blanched. “That’s suicide.”
Cornelius shook his head. “It’s insurance. If they lose the city, they’d rather take it with them.”
Maribel drew herself up, the scars on her neck pulsing blue. “Where?”
Cornelius shot a look at Oliver, who nodded. “There’s an old crypt in the eastern ridge. Abandoned, supposedly. We followed a runner last night; he had messages for half the noble houses still standing.”
Delia’s hand went to her mouth. “How much time?”
Cornelius checked his watch, lips pressed tight. “Twelve hours. Maybe less.”
Daisy tried to swing her legs off the altar, this time making it to a shaky crouch. The scales along her thighs split, then reformed, flexing with her muscles. “We go now.”
Samuel started to argue, but Maribel cut him off with a glance. “She’s not getting better. If we wait, she’ll burn up from the inside.”
Oliver stepped forward, his face raw and unguarded. He reached for Daisy, hesitated, then just squeezed her shoulder, scales and all. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he whispered.
She looked at him, really looked, and saw the old panic in his eyes. The fear of losing, the fear of being lost. It matched her own.
Cornelius barked orders to his mercs, then turned back. “Can you control the dragon?”
Daisy answered with a snarl that was more Xeris than human. “I can make him listen.”
Samuel began gathering supplies: ampoules, old tomes, and a bundle of incense that looked more decorative than magical. “We’ll need every edge we can get. If you feel the bond slipping, you tell me.”
Delia tucked a packet of herbs into Daisy’s pocket, her hands lingering for a moment. “For pain. Or hunger. Whichever hits first.”
Maribel caught Daisy’s face in both hands, her palms rough and warm. “You find your own way,” she said, voice breaking. “Don’t be his cage.”
Daisy nodded, sharp. “Never.”
A tremor rolled through the floor, distant, but deep. The city was in motion, every corner alive with something hungry or scared or both.
Daisy felt Xeris behind her eyes, his presence a tidal surge. He didn’t speak, but she could feel his excitement, the way he relished the coming storm.
She flexed her new claws, felt the heat ripple up her arms.
“Let’s end this,” she said.
And this time, nobody argued.