Chapter 39 Oh, believe me. I’m ready.
Sebastian POV
“WHERE IS SHE?!” The words thundered from my mouth, echoing throughout the castle. It’s been two days. Not a dmn sight, not a dmn word.
Nothing.
I can still feel that she’s alive.. that’s about all I have going for me at the moment. I’ve got my best witch working in tracking Amara. But she said it would take time. Time.. is something I do not have right now. Something Amara doesn’t have.
It enrages me.
A loud crack rang through the room and I looked down to see my desk had been split a little right of the middle where my fist landed.
“I know, my King. I’m working on it.” Sybil spoke, her eyes flashing open and locking with mine.
“Why is it taking so long? Do you need more hair?” I asked, grabbing Amara’s brush off my desk and walking toward her.
“More hair won’t work.” She shook her head and sighed, closing her eyes as if trying to think.
She was sitting on the ground in a black gown and her bright blonde curly hair up in some weird fashion, and the most atrocious black lipstick staining her lips,
Far from my mate.
“We need something with more of a connection. Hair just won’t cut it. It won’t be quick enough and whatever spell is being used to hide her is a lot more tricky than just some basic spell.” She said, sighing impatiently.
“Okay, so.. Like what?” I asked, i looked down at the brush in my hands and felt a pang of anger at the inanimate object.
How could this happen? How could they breach the borders of the palace without alerting anyone? They had a portal key.. or the witch who placed the spell to hide Amara opened it.
“Blood.. tears.. ya’ know.. but those are impossible to get without her here.” She said, waving her hand as if the idea was dumb.
“Does.. dried blood count?” I asked, a certain item coming to mind.
“Yeeessss..?” She furrowed her brows curiously.
“Our wedding.. we sliced our palms and bound our hands. Both of our blood is on the binding cord.” I said, walking to my bookshelves and grabbing a case off the top.
Upon opening it I saw many small trinkets that I’ve collected through the years, but on top lay the most recent addition. The binding cord.
Just as I said, covered in both our blood.
“Yes, that should work perfectly.” She reached out, and I hesitantly handed her the cord.
“Just don’t..”
“Relax. I won’t hurt your precious cord.”
I grunted in annoyance as I rolled my eyes but didn’t say another word. I just took a seat and watched as she quietly chanted in a language I couldn’t understand. Goddess this better work.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••
“Finally..w-what? that doesn’t make sense.” She looked at the map in confusion.
“What? What is it? Where is she?” I leaned down to take a closer look. The map was huge. Showing all of the vampire, fae, witch, and werewolf territories.
“The rune stones keep moving.” She says. “Every 30 seconds they move to different locations. They’ve definitely got a powerful witch. And I think I know exactly which one.”
A dark look crossed her face and I could sense a tension in the air. Ah. She must have bad blood with this witch. Well, I want the witch dead, so Sybil can have her when we get my mate back and kill every one who had anything to do with the kidnapping of my mate.
Sybil’s fingers hovered above the trembling map. “Just.. stop.. sliding,” she muttered, suddenly slamming her palm down over the cluster of runes like she was forcing them to stay still. The paper beneath her hand flared with light.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, leaning in curiously. I’d always wondered what it felt like to do magic.
She didn’t answer me. Instead, her lips moved in a low, urgent chant, words older than the stones under my boots, I’m sure. The air around us thickened. A stinglike heat crawled up my arm; the room smelled of singed parchment and iron.
Sybil’s chant grew louder, more precise. The runes on the map burned bright where she touched them, smoke curling up in black lace around her. Is she burning the map? I should stop her, tear the map away.. yet something in the way she worked made me hold my breath.
Sybil’s hand trembled when she lifted it. Some mark seemed to be burned into the parchment.. and a single line of ash clung to her fingertip. She pressed it to her tongue, tasting the ash, then spat it out with curses under her breath.
She stared at me, eyes wide and cold. “He left a mark inside the ward,” she said. “The Ascendant Coil..It’s his signature rune.”
“Whose?” I demanded, but I already sensed the dread in her silence.
“My twin brother.” Her voice cracked, quiet but venomous. “Cassian.”
I waited, but she didn’t move, still staring at the mark like it might leap from the page and bite her.
“When we were chosen as heirs to the Coven of the Blood Moon, the elders would do a ritual on our 18th birthday to find out who would be chosen.. who would receive the sigil, the strongest in our line. Who’d become our leader,” she said finally, her voice distant, like she was speaking to ghosts. “When the sigil showed up on my collarbone instead of him, Cassian lost it.” She swallowed hard.
“He was so angry he left the coven and started his own, and when the gods refused to mark him as his own coven leader, he carved his own sigil into his skin using one of the worst spells from the dark grimoire. Creating the Ascendant Coil. ”
Sybil’s mouth thinned. “My brother.” She swallowed. “He was so blind with his arrogance.. I didn’t notice at first because he hid it quite well at first.. but poke at the spell long enough and his sigil bleeds through. He’s overly confident.”
“Can you trace him now?” I asked, urgency tightening my voice.
She nodded once, jaw set. “Yes. The sigil acts like a latch. I can use it as a pivot to pin the spell in place long enough to follow the thread back to its anchor. But it’s his mark; it won’t be long before he realizes we’ve touched it. So we will have to act fast. We will only have a few hours.”
I drew in a breath, feeling that slow, cold surge of rage. “Let’s touch it.”
Sybil closed her eyes and, as if to steady herself, inked a thin protective circle around the burned sigil with the tip of her forefinger. She whispered the words to lock the pivot, the map humming as if a dozen bees were nearby.
“Get ready,” she said. “I know where she is.”
I didn’t flinch. “Oh believe me, I’m ready.”