The Consumption of Magic (Tales From Verania 3)

Looking back on it, after everything I’ve seen, I can’t see how it could have been anything but real.

I truly believe I was there when the Great White awoke for the first time in only the gods know how long. I truly believe I was there when he spoke to me.

It was brief, really. Shorter than one would have expected. In the end, though, his point was made.

I have awoken, O human child. In this forest deep, in the dark of the wild. And I have seen what is in your heart. Take heed of my warning: you are not—

“—READY?” I called out. “I’m here on time, Randall. Where are you?”

It was right at eight in the morning, the middle of the second week since we’d left Meridian City. It was colder than it normally was, a snowstorm having blown in the night before, temperatures dropping and ice growing thicker. I’d dragged the sleigh bed over near the fireplace just to stay warm, huddled under piles and piles of thick blankets.

And even though I’d wanted nothing more than to stay curled up in the bed, I’d forced myself up and downstairs, where I’d met Randall almost every morning so far. But he wasn’t there. I tried to think if Randall had said anything the day before about canceling this morning’s ass beating but came up blank.

“Randall?” I tried again, voice echoing.

He didn’t respond.

Then—

“Sam?”

I tensed. Because it wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be here, not yet, not—

I turned.

Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart stood in the far doorway.

He was smiling.

It was the most breathtaking sight.

“Hi,” he said, voice carrying out over the ice. “Hello.”

“Ryan?” I managed to croak out, sure my eyes were playing tricks on me. “How are you—”

“I missed you,” he said, taking a step toward me.

I couldn’t move.

“Did you miss me?”

More than anything. More than I thought possible. I ached with it.

He looked so good. So warm. So real.

And he said, “Sam, I am so happy to see your face. I love—”

The doors behind him burst open. Dark wizards poured in. There were dozens of them. Hundreds.

And I still couldn’t move.

They came for him. They surrounded him.

He drew his sword. He called for me to help him.

“Ryan?” I whispered.

They descended upon him. With their magic. There was the crack of bone, a splash of blood.