Makaela studied Sebastian's face as he slept. He had fallen asleep mere minutes after the bus pulled away from the station and headed for the interstate leading out of Montreal. His head was pointed upward slightly, his features deathly still.

He didn't even snore.

She imagined sleeping beside him at night must've felt like sleeping next to a ghost.

An hour quickly passed by, most of it spent watching the landscape blur into streaks of grey and white outside her window. Thin sheets of snow fell from the sky now, covering everything in sight.

She was glad to be on the bus. The cold never was kind to her.

With a sigh, she glanced up ahead at the other passengers sitting around her. Most were asleep, like Sebastian. Others occupied themselves by reading, listening to music, or conversing with their fellow passengers. Makaela spotted Remy and Imogen up ahead. They both were out cold, their heads resting on each other.

Squirming in her seat, she tried to force down the immense feeling of boredom creeping up around her. Her knees were starting to lock, and her seat wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing to sit on. She wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to stay inside the bus without losing her marbles.

Her eyes flickered down to the box in her lap.

Despite weighing a few pounds, it suddenly felt like an anchor. If she wasn't careful, it would drag her through the floor. She averted her eyes, opting to stare out the window again. After seeing nothing worth her time, she brought them back to the golden container before her.

She didn't want anything to do with it. Had it been up to her, she would've left it behind.

It wasn't up to her, though. Not anymore. Her housemates died for that ring. Her parents gave their lives just to protect it. Xander, Uncle Olivier... Too many lives were sacrificed to keep that ring out of the wrong hands. The legacy of House Lumai and the lightweavers lived within that golden gemstone. It was her duty to protect it at all costs.

Biting down on her lip, she traced the familiar symbols carved into the lid. The padlock keeping the container closed clattered against the hard surface as the bus hit a bump in the road. She mulled over Sebastian's words from earlier.

"You're going to have to learn to use it eventually..."

The thought of wearing it terrified her. Her hands trembled at the thought of calling upon its power.

But he was right.

Even without his Eldenarian Artifact, Thorian was one of the most powerful casters of the modern era. The fight with the Order of the Black Lotus wouldn't end after they arrived in Hodvekt. It would only be the beginning. She would have to prepare. She would have to train her skills to even stand a chance against the man and his dark forces.

Her fingers closed around the padlock.

A quick peek wouldn't hurt.

With a quick unlocking charm, the lock dropped into her hand. She stashed it into the pocket of her coat before carefully opening the box. Bright light poured from inside, emitting from the Illumio's gemstone itself. She quickly slammed the container shut, her heart jumping inside her mouth.

No one around her noticed, though. They were either fast asleep or distracted by the weird ear-muff devices clamped over their ears.

She released a shaky breath. Then she opened the box again. The warm golden rays kissed her midnight skin, illuminating her face. The Illumio sat in the center of the box, attached to a finger-shaped stand built into the bottom.

Memories of her father filled her head. She fell headfirst into reveries of the man creating sparkling light shows for the children of House Lumai with the help of the ring. She remembered how his warm smile, his hearty laugh. Everyone loved him, but no one more than his wife and only child.

Her throat closed up as she felt a sob threatening to rise at the thought of her mother.

Unlike her father, she didn't think of her as much. She couldn't explain why. Her love for her parents stretched equally between them. Most of her memories of the woman were locked, though, hidden beyond a shadowy veil she couldn't seem to pull down.

One memory did stand out, though. It was the only one she didn't want.

The still body of her mother stained her psyche like the blood trickling from the wound on her chest. Her eyes were frozen open, their usual dark brown color swallowed whole by an abyss of black. Makaela had never seen them like that before.

Thorian had killed her, just moments before he defeated her father in a duel.

Makaela had been hidden in the wardrobe in their bedroom, cloaked in the strongest invisibility charm, forced to watch helplessly as her parents were dispatched by a man they once called their friend. She could still feel the hot tears streaming down her face as she clamped her hands over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle her cries. She had to bite the skin of her palms to keep from screaming. She had to stay hidden. If not, she would've met the same fate as her parents.

Some days, she wished she died with them.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she banished the memory from her mind.

It was the first time she had thought about it in months.

She glared at the Illumio. Then she closed the box. After setting it to the side, she crossed her arms. She wasn't ready to wear it. Not yet.

A head settled onto her shoulder.

Stiffening, she snapped her eyes to the side. Her body relaxed upon seeing it was Sebastian. He was still asleep, his lips parted slightly as his chest rose and fell at a steady pace. His warm breath tickled her neck.

Part of her wanted to push his head off. Another part of her wanted to brush her fingers through his shaggy hair. She decided against doing either.

Anyone could see the boy was knackered. Not only had he shadowjumped himself and two others out of the chateau the night before, but he had also participated in two life-or-death duels-that she knew of-in the last twenty-four hours. If anyone deserved a small break, it was him.

So, she'd let him sleep.

She yawned.

A nap could've been useful for her as well. Her shoulder was starting to ache again, and she needed her vitalae to replenish if they were to fight again. As her eyelids fluttered, it felt like someone had draped a heavy blanket of drowsiness over her. With the sound of the bus's wheels rumbling beneath her and the snowflakes softly hitting the windows, she drifted off.

❁

When Makaela opened her eyes, she wasn't on the bus anymore.

This time, it only took her a second to determine what was happening.

She was dreamwatching again.

The hall from her previous dream served as the setting. It was as dark as ever, the torches on the walls providing just enough light for her to see a few feet ahead. This time, she was alone in the corridor.

Her last dreamwatch provided her with a warning on the attack on her home. Without it, she likely would've been captured. From what she remembered about the rare disciple of magic, dreamwatchers would use the skill to spy on others or gain knowledge while their body slept.

She wondered what category this dream fell into.

Voices sounded from somewhere down the hall. She approached the source of the noise. Purple curtains separated the hallway from another room; the voices came from beyond the veil. Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward it. To her surprise, her body went straight through as if it wasn't even there.

But it was there.

She was the one who wasn't.

The room beyond the curtain was grandiose, likely crafted by gifted architect magicians who would've thrived in the Gothic era. Iron beams held up the black stone that made up the ceiling. A crystal chandelier hung down, burning candles held in place by metal fixtures. Large, framed portraits decorated the walls. In the center of the room sat a long, rectangular table. Intricate carvings the old language had been etched into the black wood. Six chairs were placed on either side of the table; four of the seats were empty. The other eight were occupied by a Shade. Their silver masks sat on the wood, the shiny metal catching the light from the candles above. For once, Makaela could see all their faces.

She sneered at them.

They killed in the shadows, hiding behind masks and robes. They were cowards, every single one of them.

At the head of the table sat a rather irritated Thorian. A prominent vein pulsed against the tight skin of his temple, his jaw flexing every few seconds. The Shades kept their gazes down, not daring to meet the eye of their master.

Makaela flitted over to the side of the table.

After an eternity, Thorian spoke.

"Where are they?"

Anger hid behind his controlled voice.

The Shade on Thorian's immediate left, a pale, barrel-chested man with beady eyes and a beard thicker than the morning fog, spoke up first. "The Redfangs are tracking them throughout Eastern Canada as we speak. They're on the run, but they won't be able to escape a werewolf's nose for long."

"That didn't answer my question, Igor," Thorian said flatly. Makaela found herself grinning at his frustration.

To his right, a bald man with skin the color of black velvet cleared his throat. His eyes were warm and kind, uncharacteristic for someone so evil. Then again, it was probably what allowed him to deceive his victims.

"Yes, Emile?" Thorian drawled.

"I've received word from Ulrich that they're headed west. He and Yuri are in pursuit. Unfortunately, Kylian was killed."

Thorian didn't even react to the death of one of his own.

Typical, Makaela thought.

"I trust you will find out their destination soon."

Emile dipped his head. "Of course, my lord."

Thorian leaned back into his chair. As Makaela stood beside him, she noticed just how old he truly was. At around fifty, he was only a few years older than her father would've been, yet he looked way beyond his years. Stress lines that she hadn't seen before marred his pale complexion, especially around his eyes. His skin was even starting to sag. Faint capillaries filled with dark blood crawled up his throat.

He looked ill.

She tilted her head at him.

Time has not been kind to you.

"Now," Thorian continued, "onto the next matter of this meeting."

Makaela remained next to him, her eyes never leaving his face.

"My relationship with the other members of the council is waning. Suspicion in me grows by the day. I fear a few may have discovered my involvement in the Order." He paused. "Staying out of the fight may no longer be an option for them soon."

"We could kill them," a girl, much younger than everyone else, said. "Settle the issue before it arises."

Makaela gasped. It was Amora. Sebastian's twin sister. While she had been friends with Sebastian as a child, his sister was something more akin to a nemesis.

Of course she's a Shade.

Had she been aware of the existence of the Order of the Black Lotus as a child, she would've pegged the girl to join their ranks without a shadow of a doubt. No one could argue that she was Thorian's daughter. The two were just alike.

The bearded Shade, Igor, howled with laughter. "Amora, you're as naïve as your idiot brother. Killing the other members of the council isn't an easy thing to do, nor is it a smart one."

"Maybe not easy for you. My father could do it if he wanted to. The Black Lotus can do anything. Isn't that right, Father?"

Thorian turned to his daughter. Her grin faded, replaced by a look of fear. She hung her head and swiftly apologized.

"Igor is right," the man told her. "Killing the rest of the council is not as straightforward as you might think. I haven't called a council meeting in years, and everyone has resigned themselves to their respective fortresses. Besides, killing them would only raise more suspicion around my name."

Makaela could tell Amora wanted to say more, but the girl knew better.

"What about our spies?" Emile inquired. "What's the status on the coup within House Oseda."

Thorian grimaced. "Our infiltrators are finding it difficult to sway the people against Chieftain Naidini. Faith in her rule is stronger than I thought." He sighed. "We need to focus on gathering allies." He turned to Igor. "Have you made contact with House Doragon yet?"

The Shade pulled at his beard. "Er, no, my lord. Karuma refuses to return my letters."

Thorian's lip twitched.

"Have we tried House Vaya?" another Shade asked.

"No one has heard anything from the weathermasters since the purge began," Emile answered. "Allying with them is out of the question. Though, I have a feeling Madame Alizeh wouldn't be interested either way."

"What do we do then?" someone else asked.

All eyes settled on Thorian. Makaela even awaited his reply.

If the Order was still scraping for allies, perhaps they weren't as powerful as she thought.

"The plan doesn't change," he said. "We continue to prepare."

Makaela frowned. Prepare? Prepare for what?

The Shades at the table murmured excitedly amongst themselves. Emile remained silent, though. Something flickered beneath his exterior. She couldn't get a clear glimpse of it, though, as he masked it with a tight smile.

Moving away from Thorian, she walked over to the man and examined his features.

What are you thinking, Emile?

"Allies or not, the artifacts will be mine," Thorian said. "In just a few weeks, the reckoning will be upon us. This world will be ours, I promise you that."

A few weeks?

He didn't even have his own artifact in his possession. How was he going to somehow get all seven in a few weeks?

He rose from his seat. "Meeting adjourned."

The Shades rose from their chairs. They bowed toward their master before walking towards the purple curtain. Once they were all gone, Thorian traveled over to the last painting on the wall nearest to him. The man within the golden frames possessed the same angular facial structure and piercing eyes that all the Thauvins seemed to have. Makaela squinted at the label beneath the portrait:

Neven Tedorof, 1938.

"I am close to finishing what you started, Father," Thorian whispered. "Soon, magic will rule over this world like it did in the days of Obscurin. I will rip the power from the ordinaires and restore it to its rightful owners." His fingers grazed the painting.

Makaela watched him with a mix of shock and intrigue.

"I promise." Thorian took one last look at the painting. Then he left the room.

As she attempted to follow him, the scene evaporated into blobs of gray and black. She floated like a spirit, weightless and invisible, as everything dulled around her. Her time there was done.