Chapter 16: The Grimoires Three

 

 

MAGIC, I’VE learned, is a gift, capable of the greatest of triumphs. Or, in the wrong hands, the darkest of desires.

I could do things that most others could only dream about.

I was seventeen years old when I brought a bird back to life.

For the longest time, I never told anyone about it.

I sucked the life from the earth and the trees and pushed it into that little bird, causing its lungs to expand, its heart to thrum.

The ground had been scorched beneath my feet, and remained as such to this very day.

Morgan had fallen, and there had been a moment when I stood above his pale body, the eyes of the King’s Court upon me, and thought, I could bring him back. It would be so easy to do so.

Somehow I’d resisted the temptation.

Because I’d been taught by a man far greater than I that just because I could do something didn’t mean that I should.

“It can get away from you if you let it,” Morgan of Shadows had told me once, shortly after I’d come to Castle Lockes. “It can be something unwieldy, growing beyond your control.”

I’d stared at him with wide eyes. “And that’s bad?”

He’d nodded gravely. “Yes, little one. It’s bad. Because your mind could become clouded and you could lose your way. It is why understanding what you’re capable of is very important.”

“I won’t do that,” I’d said. “I won’t be bad.”

He’d smiled then, that smile I thought was just for me. “I know you won’t. And I’ll be here to help you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

 

 

SAM.

Soon, Sam.

I promise.

I’ll be there soon.

And then it will end.

I jerked awake, heart pounding, skin slick with sweat.

Ryan slept at my side, chest rising and falling slowly.

I watched him sleep for the longest time.

 

 

FROM THE Grimoire of Morgan of Shadows:

It’s odd, really, being alone. For the longest time, Myrin and Randall were at my side, ever watchful. My guardians. My protectors. My mentors. I felt… complete. Together, we seemed unstoppable. I’d always heard that two wizards should never be each other’s cornerstone, but why not? If it worked, then why shouldn’t they be as they were?

I know now why. I think. Maybe it played a part in all that came after. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe Myrin was always meant to become mired in shadows. Maybe that was his destiny.

Randall said he’d return to me when he’d healed himself.

I just need to wait.

I hope it’s not long.

But things feel… different. Now. The darkness is gone.

Anya is remarkable. I’m glad she’s not a wizard.

 

 

A BREAKTHROUGH.

I wish I could tell Randall.

 

 

1 EYE of fire gecko

1 ½ cups ground wormwood

2 Kontashi mushrooms

1 tear of a spectacularly agitated troll worm

 

 

THERE ARE stories. Coming from the mountains of the North. Of a haunted castle made of ice. Travelers say the mere sight of it brings about a feeling of dread. That screams can be heard from inside, wailing as if in lamentation. Bright lights bursting from within.

Ghosts, they say.

Stay far away, they say.

I can’t.

I have to know.

 

 

RANDALL’S DARK. He attacked me. I’d be dead now, except he pulled back at the last moment. He looks… wild. Unhinged. His magic curled around him like fog. He didn’t recognize me at first. I couldn’t have stopped him. Not if he’d truly wanted to end my life.

It wasn’t until I said his name that the fog lifted, if only for a moment.

He saw me, I think.

He really saw me.

“Morgan,” he said. “Morgan, leave—”

“Fight it,” I pleaded. “You have to fight it, because I can’t lose you too.”

He was gone, after that.

But then the screaming resumed from deep within Castle Freesias.

If that’s what losing a cornerstone does to you, what will happen when I lose mine?

 

 

WHAT WOULD happen if you combined certain words? Shri and mao and bre are seemingly unconnected, but are they really? What if they were said together? What could that bring?

 

 

I DID it.

I helped him on his way back to the light.

I will carry scars of the battle for life, but it’s worth it.

 

 

RANDALL’S RETURNED.

He’s different than he was a decade ago.

But then so am I.

I reintroduced him to Anya. She’s older now.

He smiled.

But not before I caught the look of fear in his eyes.

It’s not the same.

It’s not.

 

 

GLANDUR PASSED beyond the veil.

Randall is Head Wizard now.

There’s not many of us left.

Randall doesn’t seem concerned.

“You’re young yet,” he said. “More will come if needed.”

But what if they don’t? Will magic just… die?

 

 

HE TOLD me once it would be better if Myrin’s name was wiped from history.

I didn’t believe him.

I never tried to stop him.

 

 

I NEVER thought there’d come a day when I realized I haven’t thought about Myrin in years.

Today was that day.

Now I can’t shake him from my mind.

We should check the seal. Just to be safe.

 

 

SOMETIMES I still doubt myself.

Anya laughed at me. Her hair is gray now, the lines around her face and mouth more pronounced. She’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

“You can do this,” she chided me gently. “I know it. I believe in you.”

She believes in me.

She believes in me.

Thank you, Anya.

 

 

MORGAN OF Shadows.

My name. I’ve never thought of it much.

But doesn’t Randall just have the most curious sense of humor?

 

 

ANYA’S SICK.

I knew this day would come.

Gods, how I wish I’d prepared for it better.

Maybe she’ll—

 

 

IT WAS quick. In the end, it was quick. She smiled. She closed her eyes. She breathed in and out, and in and out, and….

That was it.

The end.

I felt it the moment she crossed the veil.

When her heart stopped, when she sighed out that last breath.

I felt it.

Brutal. Savage.

Randall had warned me. How it could be.

It felt like I broke cleanly in two.

I cried, of course. How could I not? I loved her.

But.

I didn’t feel… dark.

I never felt shadows.

Nothing whispered in my head.

My magic is as it always was.

I’m grieving, yes. My body aches. I can still smell her scent upon the pillow, though it’s already started to fade.

But I haven’t turned toward darkness.

I think it’s because I did split in two.

And if that’s the case, then Randall broke into jagged pieces.

I knew the end was coming.

I had time. She held on for weeks.

Randall did too.

But he never got to say goodbye.

Gods help me, but we should have killed my brother.

We should have ended his life.

For his sake.

And for Randall’s.

 

 

MAGIC IS a curious thing, even after all this time. Why, just today, I made a flower bloom with nothing but a thought in my head.

It’s beautiful. It reminds me of her.

 

 

RANDALL TOLD me he’s leaving Castle Lockes.

“It’s time,” he said. “You will be the King’s Wizard.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me, Morgan. You’re ready.”

“But what about you?”

He smiled. “Retirement will look good on me until you find an apprentice of your own. Then we’ll give him hell and make him a great wizard.”

 

 

THEY ARE already calling him Good King Anthony of Verania.

He’s young, but his heart is pure.

He will do well.

 

 

SHE CAME to me.

From the desert.

Vadoma, and she spoke of a prophecy.

 

 

HIS NAME is Sam.

It’s a good name.

I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mentor. What if I mess up? What if he doesn’t listen to me? What if I turn him Dark?

I can’t do that to him.

Gods, I don’t know if I can do this.

 

 

IT HURTS. Leaving him in the slums. Randall says it’s necessary, that he needs to be allowed to be a child before we step in and change his life.

I don’t agree.

He needs to know what he’s capable of. What he’ll be. Who he’ll become.

Maybe if I just… I could just talk to him. To his parents. I could—

No. Randall’s right. I need to wait.

 

 

I’VE BEEN summoned.

He’s presented.

There are boys made of stone in an alleyway.

How… wonderful.

 

 

HE TALKS. And talks. And talks.

Randall laughed at me when I told him as much. “You reap what you sow.”

“I’m worried.”

“About?”

“What if I don’t do right by him? Randall, we’re already withholding so much from him—”

“You’ll do fine. He couldn’t be in more capable hands. Trust yourself, Morgan. Your instincts have rarely led you astray.”

 

 

I SENT him into the Dark Woods to find something unexpected.

He’s only been gone for two hours, and yet I am fretting as if it’s been days.

I have to remind myself that it’s necessary.

He’ll be fine. I was when I had to do the same.

I wonder what he’ll bring back.

 

 

GARY AND Tiggy.

Into the wilds, and that’s who he brought back.

Truly unexpected.

Gods. How delightful he is.

Sam of Wilds, though.

It’s a good name.

 

 

THE HEART wants what it wants. But sometimes the heart cannot have what it wants. Maybe the Prince and the knight aren’t in love, but they are together. Sam respects that, even though I know it hurts him.

But still….

He thinks the knight doesn’t even know he exists, much less know his name.

If that’s true, then why does Ryan Foxheart never look away when Sam’s in the room?

I wonder….

 

 

HIS CORNERSTONE.

Ryan is Sam’s cornerstone.

Because of course he is.

Godsdammit.

 

 

HE IS loved.

Above all else, he is loved.

Granted, he spent three hours regaling me with a story that started with him losing his virginity “quite spectacularly, Morgan, like, I’m a man now,” and ended up being a diatribe on the way society views sex and sexuality. By the time he finished, I doubt even he knew what he was talking about.

But he’s smiling more than I’ve ever seen him before.

And that is thanks to Knight Delicious Face.

I can’t believe I wrote that.

Sam is happy.

I hope I never have to take that away from him.

Maybe Vadoma got it wrong.

 

 

VADOMA IS here.

Gods forgive me.

 

 

HE’S ANGRY.

So, so angry.

And I can’t blame him. For any of it.

We shouldn’t have kept this from him.

If only we’d—

 

 

HE’S LEAVING. For the desert.

And I know Vadoma’s shown him things he hasn’t shared with me.

I could see it plain as day on his face the moment he awoke in the field after she blew her powder into his face.

It scared him.

Sam, I’m so sorry.

I wish things were… different.

But you must remember: your heart is your greatest weapon.

 

 

MYRIN.

I swear on all that I have, if you touch one hair on Sam’s head, I will end you.

You won’t hurt him.

I won’t let you.

I will stop you. Somehow.

It never should have come to this, brother.

But now that it has, I will do what I must.

 

 

SAM—

If you’re reading this, I have passed beyond the veil….

 

 

FROM THE Grimoire of Randall of Dragons:

Magic is everything.

I will take my time with it.

It cannot be rushed.

 

 

MY MENTOR will be the Great White.

This is… unexpected.

For one, we cannot understand each other.

I cannot speak Dragon.

He cannot speak in a human tongue.

Are we just supposed to growl at each other?

If so, we’ve got that down perfectly.

 

 

I HATE him so much.

 

 

THE GREAT White seems to believe I’m wasting my time. Every wizard knows that eventually, a cornerstone will come into being. The Great White doesn’t like the fact that I’m making room for such a person in my constructs.

I can’t deny he has a point. To depend upon one person to hinge my magic on seems to be a logical fallacy. So much could go wrong.

But even I can’t say I’m not seduced by the idea of such a person. Made for me, just as I’ve been made for them.

In the meantime, I met the most curious of triplets the other day, the Berlotti sisters, and all of them seemed to find me irresistible, if the next seventeen hours meant anything….

 

 

WHERE DOES magic come from? Is it in the air? Is it in my blood? Is it from my mind or the earth beneath my feet? It seems… confounding that such a thing could exist. And why me? Why are there so few of us who can do the things I can? Am I in tune with the world in the way others are not? No one in my family seems to be capable of the things I am, though they are all long gone now.

My life will be long. I’ve barely begun to scrape the surface.

If magic does come from the mind, is it as limitless as imagination?

What a terrifying thought.

 

 

THE GREAT White says I have no need of a cornerstone.

I believe him.

 

 

THE TRIALS.

They were nothing.

I am Randall of Dragons.

 

 

I MET another wizard.

He’s….

Arrogant.

Irritating.

He thinks he knows so much when he obviously knows very little.

I cannot stand the sight of him.

He smirks at me like he knows me.

It’s infuriating.

I don’t have time for people like him.

I have work to do.

 

 

HE SEEMS enchanted by me.

I wish for his death daily.

When will he leave?

 

 

BREAKTHROUGH TODAY.

I understand more than I ever have before.

I was staring down at an equation that I’ve been studying for years, the solution out of my grasp, when all of a sudden, it made sense. I don’t know how I never saw it before. It seems so simple now. If Myrin hadn’t bumped my elbow when he had, spilling the ink, I might have—

Wait.

He’s not—

It can’t—

Oh no.

 

 

TWO WIZARDS? Together? Absolutely not!

Is what the Great White would say.

Cornerstones. They are useless.

They distract from what’s important.

I find myself agreeing with him.

But still….

What if?

No.

It’s better if I don’t even think about it.

 

 

MYRIN BROUGHT me a flower today.

It was a dingy little thing that looked as if it’d been sat upon after being ripped from the earth.

He was grinning when he handed it to me.

I took it, only because he would have continued to stand there with that dopey look upon his face.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Obviously.

 

 

(DRIED FLOWER petals pressed between the pages.)

 

 

MYRIN STARES at me when he thinks I’m not looking.

It’s creepy.

I must watch him closer when he’s not looking at me.

 

 

JUST ONE date, he says.

You won’t regret it, he says.

Give me a chance, he says.

No, I say.

No and no and no.

 

 

THE GREAT White accused me of being distracted today.

I don’t even try to understand how I know that.

He’s like this… presence. In my head.

It’s dragon magic. It has to be. He doesn’t have to open his mouth and I know what he’s telling me.

And he’s accusing me of being distracted.

If only he knew.

 

 

MYRIN KISSED me today.

That asshole.

 

 

HE’S MY cornerstone.

He’s my cornerstone.

He’s my cornerstone.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

 

 

IT IS of the mind. But it’s also of the air and the earth, the plants and the trees and the sky and the stars. Magic is everywhere. But it starts in the mind. I can’t say if it’s the same for other magical creatures, but they don’t think like we do. They see things differently. I’m sure the elves probably say the same about us, but then they’ve always been of the superior sort. It’s not as if there are many around anymore as it is.

But it starts in the mind.

It’s a… spark.

And it gathers.

I can see so much of it now, so much more than I could even after the Trials.

The outlines. The construct. How it builds and builds and builds—

I need to tell the Great White. So he’ll—

Myrin’s here. I can tell him too.

 

 

I HAVE to make a choice.

The Great White.

Or Myrin.

He’s making me do this.

That giant bastard is making me do this.

How dare he.

How dare he do this to me.

It’s not as if—

 

 

I—

Gods.

Can I do this?

 

 

“WHY CAN’T you trust me to know what I’m doing?” I asked the Great White today.

And in my head, I got an image of a toddler crawling on his hands and knees.

Message received, loud and clear.

He’s not wrong.

To him, we’re all children.

But he doesn’t understand.

What it means to be human.

What it means to care for another.

He—

 

 

“TRUST ME,” Myrin told me. “This will be the best thing for the both of us.”

“How can you be sure?”

He smiled at me, sunny and bright. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Gods, I love him.

 

 

I FELT the Great White’s anger.

His rage.

His fury.

But underneath it all, I felt his hurt. He was hurt by my decision.

It doesn’t change my mind, but….

I didn’t expect that.

 

 

OH, WHAT’S in a name?

Myrin the Bright Star.

It’s… fitting.

I don’t know why.

David’s Dragon are the brightest stars in the sky.

Randall of Dragons.

Myrin the Bright Star.

We were meant to be.

The Great White didn’t know what he was talking about.

 

 

I AM the King’s Wizard.

I have an apprentice.

I have my cornerstone.

It’s everything I could have wanted.

 

 

MYRIN WAS whispering something to the King today.

He smiled and winked at me when he caught me watching.

I wonder if he’s planning a surprise.

For some reason, I like surprises, but only when they come from him.

 

 

MORGAN IS… bright. Inquisitive. Studious. Focused.

I will expect great things from him.

 

 

THE KING seems… off lately. A shadow of his former self. He says he’s fine, but….

I’ll need to keep an eye on him.

 

 

MYRIN IS gone.

He left a note saying he’d be back in a few days.

He didn’t say where he was going.

This is the third time he’s done this.

I know he has a wandering spirit, but I thought this would be enough.

That I would be enough.

It’s okay, though. I have plenty to keep me busy.

 

 

THE KING had a scare today.

He was speaking in front of his court and then just trailed off, staring into the distance.

His eyes were unfocused and his jaw slack.

I thought it was a precursor to a seizure.

I reached for him, but Myrin was there first.

I could have sworn Myrin said something to him, but I didn’t see his lips move.

The King snapped out of it a moment later.

He said he hadn’t slept well the night before.

Bad dreams.

I’ll make him a calming draft for tonight.

 

 

MORGAN ASKED me today if I’d felt the shift in the wind. “It feels like something’s coming,” he said.

I laughed at my apprentice and patted his shoulder. “Of course not,” I said. “Everything is fine.”

I hate lying to him.

 

 

THE KING executed a thief today.

It came out of nowhere. One moment the man was being judged and most likely faced a few days in the dungeons, but then the King said he needed to set an example.

“Death,” the King said. “By beheading.”

I was too surprised to say anything.

“Are you sure?” Myrin asked him. “It doesn’t seem—”

“Are you questioning me?” the King asked.

Myrin bowed in deference.

The man screamed.

An hour later the executioner’s ax was bloodied, and that was that.

 

 

MYRIN AND I went for a long walk today.

It’s been some time since it was just the two of us.

I held his hand.

He kissed my cheek.

He said, “I wonder what it would be like if this was all different.”

He smiled at me when I asked him what he meant.

And that’s okay. I’m just happy to be with him.

 

 

THEY’RE CALLING him the King of Sorrows now, for all the strife he’s brought down upon his people. He won’t listen to me, no matter how hard I try.

I don’t know what to do.

 

 

IT WAS Myrin.

It was Myrin.

It was Myrin.

It was—

 

 

“YOU LOVE me,” he said.

“I do.”

“Then why?”

“Because you have to be stopped.”

“Randall, you are constrained by the rules that have been placed upon you. My mind has been expanded in ways you wouldn’t believe. Magic is so much more than what we were taught. Please. Listen to me. This—everything—it can all be ours. If you just—”

“Don’t.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, then.”

I don’t remember much after that.

 

 

I DON’T know how I never saw this coming. How I never saw any of it. He’s so strong. And the Darks have gathered behind him.

Gods.

My heart.

How it aches.

 

 

A SEAL could be made if needed.

After casting someone to the realm of shadows.

We could—

No. No. No.

If I don’t—

I have to kill him.

 

 

MORGAN CAME to me today.

He begged me.

He begged me to do what I could.

Then he showed me something. Something I never thought he could do.

Containment.

Compression.

Maybe—

 

 

I LOVE you, Myrin.

Even now.

 

 

IT’S DONE.

We almost died, but it’s done.

He’s locked away.

He screamed and screamed and screamed, but in the end, we were stronger than his rage.

Gods help us all.

 

 

HE’D BEEN dripping poison in the King of Sorrows’s ears for longer than I thought.

I was barely able to bring him back.

But his eyes cleared.

 

 

I HAVE to be strong. For Morgan.

But it’s there, isn’t it?

At the back of my mind.

I have to be strong.

 

 

I LASTED longer than I ever thought I could.

But it’s still not enough.

I must flee this place.

Castle Freesias.

It’s my last hope.

 

 

I LEFT gifts for the dragons in the cave.

Their feathers are extraordinary.

The shadows are crawling along my skin.

It won’t be long now.

 

 

GODSDAMN YOU, Myrin.

You did this, you did this.

I loved you, and you did this to me.

 

 

(THE NEXT pages are illegible, covered in unrecognizable symbols. Some have been torn out.)

 

 

HE SMILED. When he saw me.

I wanted to kill him.

“Randall,” he said. “I—”

Morgan barely escaped.

If he returns, it will be the last thing he does.

 

 

I CAN breathe.

The sun, it’s… bright today.

 

 

A WOMAN named Vadoma came from the desert.

Morgan seems disturbed.

I think she’s a liar.

 

 

HIS NAME is Sam.

His name is Sam, and he’s real.

I wonder what he’ll be like?

 

 

HE’S AN asshole.

 

 

MORGAN WANTS to tell him the truth.

He wants to put upon his shoulders the weight of his destiny.

No.

No, we can’t do that.

Not if it never comes to pass.

Maybe the gods were wrong.

 

 

HE HAS a cornerstone.

Because of course he does.

I want to strangle him as much as I want to keep him safe.

That idiot child.

 

 

IT’S MYRIN.

I should have seen that coming.

Because of course he would find a way.

Tenacious. Always.

Why do I still love him? After everything?

 

 

I COULD….

Death is a cleansing.

It frees you from the shackles of this world.

The veil is crossed.

Sins are forgiven.

And Sam….

Well, he can bring things back, can’t he?

He doesn’t know I know.

I could….

I must think on it.

 

 

I CLOSED Randall’s Grimoire, mind racing.

Ryan lay sleeping beside me in the bed, his hand curled against my hip.

It was late, and my eyes were burning. The candlelight flickered low.

Randall had said I’d find the answers I needed between these pages.

But so far all I’d gotten was that Randall and Morgan were fucking liars and that every wizard treated their Grimoire like a dia—a journal.

“Give you so much crap,” I whispered tiredly.

They hadn’t seen Myrin coming. Or by the time they had, it’d been too late.

They’d underestimated him.

Much like Myrin had done to me.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to be seeing.

It was curious, though.

Both Morgan and Randall had written that magic came from the mind.

That it was like imagination.

Why can’t you just wish him away, Mama had said.

Why indeed?

There were rules, right?

Ceilings.

It wasn’t limitless.

But hadn’t I always been told normal rules didn’t apply to me?

That I wasn’t like those that had come before me.

What if I could—

“Why’re you still awake?” Ryan mumbled next to me.

I startled a little. “Thinking.”

“About?”

“Wizarding things.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Maybe.”

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Need help?”

Don’t ever leave me. “Not now. Not tonight. Sleep. It’s late.”

“You too.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

As I slid down in the bed, he pulled the comforter up and over our shoulders. We lay on his pillow, our noses and knees bumping together. The candle sputtered, the shadows dancing along his glittering eyes.

He said, “You can’t do anything stupid.”

I snorted. “You might need to clarify that.”

“Self-sacrificing.”

I hesitated.

“Sam,” he said, taking my hand in his. “Promise me.”

“But what if—”

“No. There’s no what-if. It’s not an option.”

“We don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“We don’t. But that doesn’t mean—”

“I won’t.”

He searched my face. I didn’t know if he found what he was looking for, but he nodded slowly. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Then that means you can’t do it either. And you can’t pull your but I’m a knight and I have to be chivalrous and stupid and flourish my sword like an asshole so everyone loves me.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re so dumb.”

“Yeah, but that seems to be something you like.”

He smiled slow and sweet before reaching out and tracing a finger over my eyebrows. “I guess so. Randall’s planning something, isn’t he?”

“I think so.” But so was I.

“I’m not going to like it, am I.”

“Probably not. I mean, it’s a plan. From Randall. I doubt anyone is going to like it.”

“You don’t think….”

I frowned. “What?”

“I mean, I know it’s not—but. You don’t think he’d…. What if he’s still trying to save Myrin? What if he’s using you?”

And Sam….

Well, he can bring things back, can’t he?

You think… that if he were to die, I could bring him back. And he would be… cleansed?

Yes. But I am wrong about that, Sam. We were wrong. To keep him trapped in the shadow realm, to not have ended this when we had the chance.

You knew. About the bird. You already knew. And… what. You were going to use me?

The briefest of thoughts. It did cross my mind. Then I remembered the truth of all things. Myrin has chosen his path, and he will continue upon it, no matter what we do. And I realized that death is final, Sam. Death is the end. It is the cleansing of life, the breaking of the shackles. It is an ending. You cannot course-correct that ending, even though your heart is aching.

“I trust him,” I said simply.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Sleep,” I told him.

He did.

 

 

AND EVEN though I should have left it for the light of day, I couldn’t wait. Ryan was snoring softly; the fire was barely crackling. Just embers, really. The candle was almost gone. All I wanted to do was sink back down into the mattress, curl up next to Ryan, and follow him into sleep.

But Myrin’s Grimoire sat on the table near the window.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to relax.

I opened them a moment later.

“Just a peek,” I said. “A few pages. Then I’ll go to bed. I’ve already read part of it, right? Just a little more.”

I glanced back at Ryan, his mouth slack, a little bit of drool on his chin.

If only his knights could see him now.

I got up from the bed.

I’d always been taught that once a wizard was ready, he would need to bind his Grimoire with the skin of a fallen enemy defeated in battle or a material hard-won in the face of adversity. It was done to seal the magic inside. To make it go from theory to reality.

Morgan’s was covered in beautiful crystals taken from a cave far in the jungles of the east. He’d nearly lost his life, as the irate cave troll hadn’t wanted to part with its pretties. But he’d managed to best the troll without killing it and bound the crystals to his Grimoire.

Randall’s Grimoire was made from wood from Mujor, a tree the elves believed kept the sky from falling. The wood was dark and hardened, almost like stone, and it’d been a gift after Randall had earned the trust of the elven king.

Both materials were hard-won.

Myrin’s Grimoire was bound with the skin of a siren, crusted and hard and stretched so thin it was almost translucent. The way the stories went, the siren was a particularly nasty sort, causing ships to crash into rocks, killing all those aboard who were unable to resist the song.

I wondered if it was that simple.

I pressed my hand against the cover.

It almost felt… wet.

I told myself to go back to bed.

Instead I opened the book and began to read.

 

 

FROM THE Grimoire of Myrin the Bright Star:

Magic is… everything.

It is everywhere.

And I will find a way to master it all.

 

 

I FOUND Randall sitting on the porch the next morning, eyes closed as he breathed in and out slowly.

He didn’t acknowledge me as I sat next to him, but he knew I was there.

I waited, putting my thoughts in order, wanting to make sure what I said next was the right thing. My head was full near to bursting.

“So,” I finally said.

“So,” Randall said, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“I did what you asked.”

“Hmm.”

“And you can never give me shit about my Grimoire ever again. Because, dude, total diaries. All of yours. It was awful, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that so.”

“And your prose is a little purple for my tastes.”

“Everyone’s a critic.”

“But I know now why you wanted me to do it. To read them.”

He opened his eyes and looked at me.

“Was that your plan all along? To show me the details? The little bits and pieces?”

He smiled sadly. “We are wizards, Sam. We are capable of such great and terrible things. But we’re also human. We make mistakes. We hurt others. And sometimes, the worst in us comes out and we find ourselves mired in shadow.”

“Death is freeing. A cleansing.”

“Yes.”

“The shackles released.”

“Yes.”

“It’s going to be either him or me.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Randall said. “Because it was never just you, Sam. You’ve never been alone. Not in this. Not ever. You’ve always had Ryan. And Gary. And Tiggy and Kevin. The King and the Prince. Your parents. Pete. Morgan. And me. So, no. It’s not either going to him or you. It’s going to be him or all of us.”

I took in a shaky breath. “I have a plan.”

His smile faded. “Whenever you’ve said those words, I always dreaded them because they usually meant something terrible was going to happen.”

“Rude. But fair.”

“Will it work?”

I grinned rakishly at him. “I’m Sam of Dragons.”

“That doesn’t inspire the confidence you seem to think it does. What is your plan?”

I looked him straight in the eye and said, “I’m going to betray you all.”