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Authors: Linsey Hall
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Though this whole area vibrated with the Monster’s evil magic, this man wasn’t the Monster.
“Who are you?” I demanded. “Where am I?”
I reached out for his power, seeking his signature to get a better feel. When the smell of magic hit me—smoke and burning—I stumbled back into the wall.
“Holy magic, you’re a FireSoul.”
“Indeed.” His voice was as crisp and cold as a winter morning.
In a place that reeked of the Monster’s dark magic? “What is this place? Why are you here? Where are my friends?”
He swept his pale hands out in front of him. “It is my creation.”
“The whole waypoint?”
He laughed, a horrible sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Would that it were. No, just this dungeon.”
“You built it quick.”
“I’m powerful.”
I could feel that. His power vibrated on the air. It smelled like burning plastic and felt like a cold trickle down my spine.
“But this place smells like the magic of a man I know. And you aren’t him.” It made my stomach turn to call him a man.
“No, that I am not. But I am his.”
The hair on my arms stood on end. If he worked for the Monster, I couldn’t let him take me or my deirfiúr . But questions burned my tongue.
“You’re not wearing a collar,” I said, thinking of the collar that Aaron had worn. Aaron had been a FireSoul slave of the Monster’s. I’d met him once not long ago and killed him, though I hadn’t wanted to.
“It is unnecessary.” He approached, his walk so graceful that he almost glided. “I am willingly his.”
I stepped back. “His creature, you mean? Minion to a monster?”
He shrugged. “Monster, genius.”
“Why would you side with someone like him? After all he’s done?” Enslaving child FireSouls, murder, torture.
He looked at me like I was stupid and said, “Power.”
Power. Obviously.
“The magic he has taught me is like none you’ll ever know.”
“And I don’t want to know.”
“Don’t you, FireSoul? I can sense your power. Sense that you’ve killed for it.” He roamed the edge of the room, a spider drawing close to its prey.
“I had to,” I said.
“Not true.”
No, it wasn’t. And that reality scared me.
“And you liked it,” he said.
I shook my head, though he was right. I liked not just the power, but the act of stealing it. But I didn’t want to like it. It was a fine line to walk—managing the power without becoming consumed.
This man was consumed.
There was so much that I wanted to ask, but it was past time for me to be getting out of here. This world was the Monster’s, and this guy couldn’t be here for anything good.
I steadied myself, calling upon my magic and reaching out for his. I needed to know what I was up against if I was going to fight him. His magic felt strange and subtle, unlike most. Elemental mage powers hit you in the face normally, and so did most of the others. But this was odd.
Finally, I grasped it.
He was an Illusionist. The most powerful I’d ever met if he could make his illusions as real as the stone that had bruised my fists.
Awkwardly, I pulled his magic toward myself, struggling to manipulate it into something I could use. I’d never mirrored an Illusionist before.
I went for something easy, creating a shimmery illusion of smoke that surrounded him, obscuring Dr. Garriso and myself at the edge of the room. I lunged left, then called upon my lightning, letting it fill me with a crackling burn.
Thunder boomed and the bolt streaked toward him. But it passed through him, then streaked through the rock wall behind him.
Both were illusions.
Shit.
An arm wrapped around my neck from behind, a steel bar that cut off my breath. I thrashed.
“Using my own powers against me?” he hissed. “Mirror Mage, are you?”
So he didn’t know what I was? Or who?
This close, I couldn’t use lightning or risk frying myself too. I grabbed for the dagger strapped to my thigh, but before I reached it, iron
“Who are you?” I demanded. “Where am I?”
I reached out for his power, seeking his signature to get a better feel. When the smell of magic hit me—smoke and burning—I stumbled back into the wall.
“Holy magic, you’re a FireSoul.”
“Indeed.” His voice was as crisp and cold as a winter morning.
In a place that reeked of the Monster’s dark magic? “What is this place? Why are you here? Where are my friends?”
He swept his pale hands out in front of him. “It is my creation.”
“The whole waypoint?”
He laughed, a horrible sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Would that it were. No, just this dungeon.”
“You built it quick.”
“I’m powerful.”
I could feel that. His power vibrated on the air. It smelled like burning plastic and felt like a cold trickle down my spine.
“But this place smells like the magic of a man I know. And you aren’t him.” It made my stomach turn to call him a man.
“No, that I am not. But I am his.”
The hair on my arms stood on end. If he worked for the Monster, I couldn’t let him take me or my deirfiúr . But questions burned my tongue.
“You’re not wearing a collar,” I said, thinking of the collar that Aaron had worn. Aaron had been a FireSoul slave of the Monster’s. I’d met him once not long ago and killed him, though I hadn’t wanted to.
“It is unnecessary.” He approached, his walk so graceful that he almost glided. “I am willingly his.”
I stepped back. “His creature, you mean? Minion to a monster?”
He shrugged. “Monster, genius.”
“Why would you side with someone like him? After all he’s done?” Enslaving child FireSouls, murder, torture.
He looked at me like I was stupid and said, “Power.”
Power. Obviously.
“The magic he has taught me is like none you’ll ever know.”
“And I don’t want to know.”
“Don’t you, FireSoul? I can sense your power. Sense that you’ve killed for it.” He roamed the edge of the room, a spider drawing close to its prey.
“I had to,” I said.
“Not true.”
No, it wasn’t. And that reality scared me.
“And you liked it,” he said.
I shook my head, though he was right. I liked not just the power, but the act of stealing it. But I didn’t want to like it. It was a fine line to walk—managing the power without becoming consumed.
This man was consumed.
There was so much that I wanted to ask, but it was past time for me to be getting out of here. This world was the Monster’s, and this guy couldn’t be here for anything good.
I steadied myself, calling upon my magic and reaching out for his. I needed to know what I was up against if I was going to fight him. His magic felt strange and subtle, unlike most. Elemental mage powers hit you in the face normally, and so did most of the others. But this was odd.
Finally, I grasped it.
He was an Illusionist. The most powerful I’d ever met if he could make his illusions as real as the stone that had bruised my fists.
Awkwardly, I pulled his magic toward myself, struggling to manipulate it into something I could use. I’d never mirrored an Illusionist before.
I went for something easy, creating a shimmery illusion of smoke that surrounded him, obscuring Dr. Garriso and myself at the edge of the room. I lunged left, then called upon my lightning, letting it fill me with a crackling burn.
Thunder boomed and the bolt streaked toward him. But it passed through him, then streaked through the rock wall behind him.
Both were illusions.
Shit.
An arm wrapped around my neck from behind, a steel bar that cut off my breath. I thrashed.
“Using my own powers against me?” he hissed. “Mirror Mage, are you?”
So he didn’t know what I was? Or who?
This close, I couldn’t use lightning or risk frying myself too. I grabbed for the dagger strapped to my thigh, but before I reached it, iron
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