The Evolution of Fae and Gods (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 3)

“But Light Fae wouldn’t steal babies,” I blurt out. “They were angels once.”

Ozigeor turns his head my way, his expression telling me that I’m an idiot. It’s a look I’m sure Carrick won’t attack him for. “They were expelled from Heaven. What makes you think they wouldn’t?”

I shrug. That’s a good point.

“How does the ritual work?” Carrick asks, gaining the sorcerer’s attention again.

He pulls the tissues away from his nose, and it seems the bleeding has stopped. He tosses it in a trash can before casually moving behind his desk. Pulling out his chair, he sits and clasps his hands on his desk. He wants to be the picture of a professional having a rational discussion, but he’s really just putting something between Carrick and himself.

“Power is funneled into the stolen child, where it builds in strength before moving to the changeling at a designated time.”

My head snaps Carrick’s way. Did he hear what I just heard? It’s funneled into the stolen child?

My twin.

“More,” Carrick demands.

Ozigeor sighs. “The fae wanting the power goes into stasis. It’s like they’re frozen in time, still as a statue, where they stay until the ritual is complete. Power is funneled into the human child, who acts as a vessel of sorts. The power accumulates there while building upon itself.”

“But why a baby?” I ask. “Why not just funnel power into the fae?”

“Because it’s a ritual of time. Like any good recipe, it can’t be done quickly. And there’s a dark component to it that amplifies the power.”

“The fact you’re using a human baby,” Carrick mutters.

Ozigeor smiles and points at Carrick as if he just won his bingo card. “Exactly.”

My stomach rolls. My twin was stuck in the Underworld for years and used as a vessel to store dark magic. What was her life like? Was she kept in a cage? Was she abused? Tortured?

I can’t even fathom it.

“Kymaris, Queen of the Underworld, used a changeling ritual. She used it not only to gain power, but also to escape the Underworld and come to the human realm.”

Ozigeor blinks and exclaims, “Really? That’s incredible.”

Once again, Carrick moves at the speed of light, his body leaning over the desk as he pops the sorcerer on the nose with his fist again. More blood spurts, and Ozigeor howls as he grabs more tissues.

I stare agog at Carrick for the brutal act of violence that has no reason I can fathom.

Carrick, clearly reading my expression, explains, “He’s lying. He gave her the ritual.”

“I did not give—” Ozigeor starts to deny, but when Carrick raises his fist, Ozigeor’s mouth snaps shut.

He leans back in his chair and tilts his face toward the ceiling to stop the flow of blood, but people aren’t supposed to do that. It will just run down his throat.

Not my place to tell him that, though.

“You gave her the ritual,” Carrick says with assurance. “I want the details.”

The sorcerer lifts his head, glaring at Carrick past the wad of tissues held to his nose. “Fine. I did a changeling ritual, and I was asked to tweak it a bit to bring the queen out of the Underworld. That was my specialty, you know—drawing Dark Fae through the veil.”

“Now,” Carrick drawls, sitting down on the edge of Ozigeor’s desk and leaning toward him. “This is the big question… why does Kymaris want to come to the human world and have all this power? What does she intend to do?”

The sorcerer holds his hand out in supplication. “I swear I don’t know. I was never told, and I was never asked for anything else.”

Carrick seems to believe him because he changes direction. “Who would funnel the power into the human baby?”

Ozigeor pulls the tissues away, the bleeding stopped. He tosses them in the trash as he shakes his head. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because the human child had to stay near Kymaris while she was in stasis, which means the child was kept in the Underworld.”

“The Dark Fae have very limited powers,” Carrick mutters, face screwed up slightly in thought. “They would have had to pool their very limited magic to make it work, I’m guessing.”

“And the ritual was quite long,” I point out. “Twenty-eight years in the making.”

“Really?” Ozigeor says, his eyes sparkling with interest and glee, which makes me want to hit him. “I’ve never heard of one lasting that long. Imagine… a human child raised to adulthood in the Underworld. Fascinating.”

I grimace at the thought, wanting Carrick to hit him again.

But he’s on a fact-finding mission. “So, for twenty-eight years, power was funneled into the human child. So the power then goes from the child into the changeling in the human world?”

The sorcerer shakes his head, almost looking eager now to share his knowledge with pride. “No. It actually goes from the human child into the static fae—in this case, Kymaris—who absorbs it all and comes out of stasis. With that power, she projects herself through the veil and into the changeling, where she overtakes the body. It’s supposedly an honored sacrifice for the fae parents who willingly give up their child to be a changeling.”