Rebel Spring A Falling Kingdoms(51)

“Why is this happening?” Alexius asked, his throat tight.

Melenia arched her brow. “It is tragic but very simple what is happening. Our magic is fading enough that it cannot sustain every one of our kind. This is the result.”

“The tornado in Paelsia was magic—air magic,” Phaedra said. “I saw it myself—I was there in hawk form. It drained power from the Sanctuary, and that—I’m sure that’s what triggered Stephanos’s condition. But how? How does what happens in the mortal world affect us? I didn’t think we were connected at all. Do you think it has something to do with the road the mortal king builds through his land?”

All eyes went to Phaedra.

“You’re mistaken,” Melenia said. “What is happening to Stephanos is the result of a slow draining away of our magic that has happened over time. A natural disaster that occurred in the mortal world has nothing to do with this.”

Phaedra shook her head. “Perhaps King Gaius is being guided by one who knows about us—about how to access our magic for his own gain.”

“Nonsense,” Danaus said, looking down his nose at her. “No mortal has any effect on us, no matter who he is.”

“Are you certain of that?” Timotheus asked.

Danaus’s expression tensed. “I am.”

Timotheus smiled, an expression that did not extend to his eyes. “Must be nice to always be so certain of everything.”

“Don’t be so sure of what you speak, Danaus,” Melenia said. “Perhaps there is some validity to what Phaedra suspects. She has always been very clever. We must keep a close watch over King Gaius and his future actions. He could be a threat.”

“A threat?” Danaus scoffed. “If so, he’d be the first mortal to ever threaten us.”

“And yet, here we are.” Melenia cast a glance toward Stephanos, who’d squeezed his wrinkled eyes shut as if experiencing deep, unfathomable pain.

“All this means,” Danaus said sourly, “is that our scouts must find the Kindred to restore our magic completely so we don’t all wither away and die.”

“We’re trying,” Alexius growled. Although, in truth, he had ceased searching for the crystals when a princess with sky-blue eyes and jet-black hair had captured his full attention.

“Doesn’t seem to me that you’ve tried very hard.”

“We have. The search has never stopped, not even long after it should have. The Kindred cannot be found.”

“You’ve given up? With so much at stake? Who will next be affected after Stephanos? Perhaps it will be you!”

“Silence, Danaus.” A muscle in Timotheus’s cheek twitched. “Squabbling amongst ourselves solves nothing.”

Alexius knew that Timotheus didn’t favor either council member; in fact, he barely tolerated both of them. The Sanctuary was a small enclave, with a few hundred immortals forced to live together indefinitely. For all its beauty, it was a prison, escapable only by forfeiting both magic and immortality. And the inmates didn’t all get along.

“If nothing else,” Timotheus began, “this is absolute proof that our world is slowly descending into darkness like a sun in the mortal world slipping beneath the horizon. Even if the Kindred were returned here tomorrow, it could be too late to stop this.”

“Always the pessimist,” Melenia said drily.

“Realist,” Timotheus corrected.

Stephanos cried out in pain.

“It is time,” Melenia whispered. She walked back toward Stephanos, gazing down at his face. “I wish there was something I could do to save you, my dear friend.”

Despite her kind words, he didn’t look up at her with affection. In fact, it was as if he was seeing her today for the first time. His eyes narrowed. “You think your secrets will die with me, Melenia?”

But before he could say another word, he cried out again and arched upward, his frail body shuddering violently. And then bright white light exploded from him. Alexius staggered backward and shielded his eyes to keep from being blinded. The scream of a hawk pierced the air and the glass wall all around them shattered into a million crystal shards.

Everything before him went stark white as the scream continued. It felt as if they could never survive such a violent onslaught of both sight and sound.

Fear ripped into Alexius and he fell bruisingly hard to his knees, clamping his hands down over his ears, a scream building in his own chest.

But then all went silent. The light faded, the sound vanished. The golden platform was now empty. Stephanos’s body was gone. It had returned to the essence of pure magic it began from, the magic that sustained their world.