Sebastian might've been making the biggest mistake of his life.

And he had made plenty thus far, including the time he accidentally killed his subject during a torturing lesson; his father refused to speak to him for a week after that blunder. Sebastian still remembered their face; a poor, unfortunate ordinaire just a few years older than him the Shades caught snooping around their castle's shield charms. He never felt bad about what he did. Growing up, he had been taught ordinaires were parasites, leeches who threatened to destroy the world they shared with their wretched technology and reckless actions. It was a magician's divine right to restore a sense of purity to their world.

Thorian believed they needed to be conquered. Sebastian agreed. But after finding out the truth about his father, he wasn't sure anything the man told him could be trusted.

He glanced at his hand, the muscles in his face taut.

Every fiber of his being told him to take the Obscurio off, put it back where he found it, and scrub his mind clean of everything he experienced. Of everything he learned. Things would've been so much easier had he never put it on in the first place. He desperately wanted to forget. He wanted to go on the mission and impress his father and continue in his crummy life.

But he couldn't. Not after what he saw.

The Obscurio had taken him back to the day the magician community changed forever. He didn't remember much from that day. Most of it was spent locked away in his room crying into his pillows. His mother had disappeared mysteriously a few nights before. Thorian continued like nothing changed. Like he hadn't just lost the love of his life. As Sebastian drowned in sorrow and confusion, he hadn't even noticed his father left their palace.

He hadn't noticed the man went to commit the most heinous act in their people's history.

The vision showed him what truly happened in House Lumai's headquarters.

There was an argument, exactly how Thorian claimed, but the details were different from the way Sebastian had heard.

His father told him—told everyone—Pierre initiated the battle. According to his fable, the master lightweaver went rogue with his artifact, using it to mow down an entire battalion of Shades. Thorian, well-disguised by his robes and mask, was forced to intervene. He was forced to take his life. He was forced to take control of the Eldenarian Council.

That's what he said.

That's what he had everyone believe.

But that's not what Sebastian saw.

What he witnessed was a power-hungry man blinded by his quest to prevent the war the prophecy foretold. He would stop at nothing to achieve what he desired, even if that meant murdering a man he once called his friend. The look in his eyes... Sebastian shuddered at the image. He would never forget that look. He had never seen it before. He wished to never see it again.

He wished he saw none of it.

There was no use in wishing, though. Now he had a decision to make.

He was still sat on the cool grass of the outside courtyard in Castle Braexus. The Obscurio remained on his finger, its black gemstone dull and dark. The magic inside had gone, likely to reappear whenever it decided to screw with Sebastian's head again.

He couldn't fathom how his father wore the thing. Then again, that was probably why he kept it on a stand and not on his finger. The things it showed, the voices it brought with it... It was enough to drive the sanest man mad.

Sebastian scowled.

Thorian was mad. He knew that now.

He couldn't let him kill Makaela—or anyone else, for that matter. No more blood would be spilled over his asinine quest to stop the prophecy before it began. His quest for control and power would claim no more lives, not if Sebastian could help it.

Stopping fate was impossible, a fool's errand. Their destinies were etched in stone. Permanent. Unwavering and unchangeable. Everyone knew that.

Everyone except Thorian.

The man thought he was above the average magician. In some ways, he was. Yet, he was still mortal. Not a god. Not the revered deity he believed himself to be.

Sebastian rose from the ground. Unclasping the silver hook keeping his robes together, he let the wispy garments drop to the floor. He removed the mask from his face and examined it. His distorted reflection stared back at him, daring him to do what needed to be done.

His hand trembled slightly.

An uncertain frown pulled down the corners of his mouth.

No one left the Order of the Black Lotus. Not without dying.

His frown deepened.

He wondered how many of the Shades knew the truth about the purge. How many of them knew their leader lied straight to their faces just so he could obtain more power? Perhaps they all knew the truth. He wouldn't have been surprised. Many of them were just as sadistic as he was. Plenty enjoyed torturing prisoners, killing innocents. Shades were vile. They all deserved a life sentence in the deepest cell in Nyghtmir.

But with Thorian controlling the council, that meant he controlled the magical prison hidden in the Amazon as well. The magician community was in the palm of his hand. All that was left for him to do was collect the artifacts.

It's all he ever talked about.

They were the only things he wanted.

Sebastian's face fell.

His mask dropped with it, clattering to the ground.

❁

He needed to get there before they did.

If he could make it to the portal room before the Shades left the castle, he might've stood a chance at thwarting their mission. He could save Makaela. He just had to be quick about it. The plan he fashioned in his head as he reentered the castle's halls sounded easy enough. No one would question Thorian's son moving into the portal room a bit early. And if they did, he'd tell them he wanted to get a head start on the proceedings. Better to be early than late. Emile always preached that during his lessons.

There was only one problem.

The Obscurio was gone.

And Thorian would come looking for it.

Gods, the whole castle will be looking for it.

With Sebastian having abandoned his robes and mask in the east garden, blending in with the other Shades within the fortress wasn't an option. He cursed his dramatics. His uniform had been left behind, a meaningless attempt at severing his connection to the genocidal magicians he called his family. But with his sharp features, smoldering eyes darker than coal, and the purple mark glowing in his left hand...

There was no separating him from them.

No matter what he did, he would always be a Shade. He would always be a member of House Tenebris. They were in his blood, intertwined with his very being. There was no getting rid of them.

Face reddening, his footsteps faltered in the empty east wing corridor.

The stone arches above him looked down with pity, the still gargoyles watching with their curious eyes from their perches. The creatures were stationed all over the castle, employed solely to guard the fortress and scout for intruders.

Their eyes bored into his very soul.

Scratching the back of his neck, he averted his gaze from theirs.

Was he an intruder?

Glancing down at his attire, he figured he must've looked like one. A plain black t-shirt and jeans didn't exactly scream dark magician. The ring on his finger definitely didn't belong to him. They knew that. They had to.

The gargoyles knew all.

Yet, they remained on their perches, their shining eyes tracking his every move.

Not waiting around to get caught, Sebastian rushed for the portal room. Luckily, he had yet to come across another person. They were likely in a briefing meeting. His pulse quickened at the thought. They would be leaving soon.

He cursed.

I need to go.

Keeping his head down and his hands in his pockets, he zipped through the halls and stayed close to the walls, using the shadows for cover. The Obscurio felt like a boulder on his hand, dragging him down, pulling him deeper into the hole he dug for himself. The hole was starting to look more like a grave with every step he took.

Grimacing, he soldiered on.

As he turned a corner, he was forced to stop.

Startled, he sucked in a sharp breath. He narrowed his eyes at the robe-wearing girl before him. The skeptical eyes of his twin stared back. She was maskless, her brows upturned slightly. Amora crossed her arms, her expression difficult to decipher.

Sebastian shifted his feet. He made sure to keep his hands in his pockets. She couldn't know what he had. She wouldn't understand why he took it, nor why it needed to stay with him. He wouldn't even bother explaining.

His sister was too much like his father.

Cold. Detached.

She wouldn't understand.

"Father's looking for you," she said dryly. "Again."

"Is he?"

Amora's eyes slid down to his pockets. She squinted at him, her lips parting slightly. "What are you hiding, Seb?"

"What? Nothing."

His quaking voice betrayed him.

A silent curse left his lips.

Her lip curled. With a quick incantation, her vayrir was summoned. Spinning the black blade in her palm, she pointed the tip at his throat. He knew her vayrir well. Not only due to years of sparring but because his own was a perfect copy of it.

"I knew you took it," she spat.

Striking like lightning, she pressed her hand into his chest—forcing him into a wall—and her dagger to his chin. Half a centimeter more and it would've drawn blood. Gulping, Sebastian crossed his eyes at the tip of her weapon. Sweat trickled down his back.

He kept quiet. Silence was his friend. It always was.

Amora kept her vayrir raised. 

"Talk," she ordered. "Now."

"I didn't take anything."

"Liar!"

She snatched his left hand from the pocket of his pants. Her dark eyes widened. Shocked, she stepped away from him.

Sebastian reached for his sister, urging her to settle down. "'Mora, please. You have to listen to me—"

"Why? What we're you thinking? Father won't forgive you for stealing from him."

He opened his mouth to respond. The words didn't come out. They couldn't. He didn't know what to say to her. Nothing he would muster would get her to understand his actions. She would never accept his decision.

She hadn't seen the things he had.

She didn't know what he knew.

"I had to," he told her. He gestured at the ring sitting on his finger. "It told me the truth."

"The truth? The truth about what?"

He paused, his gaze fixed on the floor.

She stepped forward, her face full of anger.

"Answer me! What did it tell you the truth about?"

"Everything!"

Amora flinched as if she had been struck. Tears welled in her eyes. Biting down on her bottom lip, she shook her head defiantly.

"What do you mean 'told you the truth'?" she pressed. "What did it show you?"

"Father lied," he stressed. "He lied about it all. House Lumai never started the fight. The purge wasn't necessary. He only did it to trick you all into helping him collect the artifacts. He's been lying this whole time—"

"No... No, you're lying. Father wouldn't do that."

Despite being closer to the man than he ever would be, she still didn't have a good grasp of his character. Perhaps she was too close to the sun to see its imperfections. But Sebastian saw them—deep down, he knew he had seen them all along.

"I saw what happened that night," he continued. "We attacked House Lumai first. Father orchestrated the whole thing."

His sister fell silent. Her face pointed toward the ground, her dagger clutched tightly in her hands. The girl's mouth quivered.

"Amora, I have to stop him," Sebastian told her, softening his voice. "I have to."

Sniffling, she nodded. She lifted her head and walked toward him. A rush of relief overcame him. He reached out to take her hand.

Then she thrust her vayrir at his throat.

❁

The twins battled in the hallway for their lives.

Magic buzzed in the air, charging the particles with invisible power. Sebastian felt it rippling against his skin. Their attacks whizzed past each other, colliding into the columns holding up the ceiling and the bricks in the walls. Dust filled the air like fog as they fought.

The longer they fought, the stronger Amora seemed to get. It was as if her anger and desire to defeat him fueled her magic.

Fortunately, Sebastian had the Obscurio to aid him against her rage-fueled attacks. He felt its power surging through his veins, supplying him with more vitalae, as he threw blasts of shadow magic Amora's way. The whispers had returned. They urged him to attack, to strike, to kill. Gritting his teeth, he forced them down. He wouldn't kill his sister, even though she was trying to kill him.

He just needed to subdue her somehow.

Easier said than done, especially with her.

Amora was no rookie magician. For a nineteen-year-old, she was more ruthless than Igor—the Order's resident berserker—and could probably take Emile in a duel. Her unorthodox dueling style kept her opponents on their toes. Had Sebastian been anyone else, and not equipped with one of the world's most powerful artifacts, he surely would've fallen to her magic.

But he wasn't just anyone.

He was Sebastian. Her brother.

If anyone could beat her, it was him. He just had to be smart about it.

The only issue was that he was splitting half his concentration on defending against her attacks and suppressing the violent tendencies the Obscurio was inspiring from deep in his psyche.

He knew they were there, but he kept them down. Repressed. Only to be called upon when absolutely necessary.

This wasn't one of those moments, despite the direness of the situation.

He wouldn't kill his sister. He couldn't.

She flung herself at him, sharp fragments made out of the very shadows beneath their feet protruding from the gaps between her knuckles. Sidestepping her attack, he forced her backward with a knockback spell. Boots squeaking on the tile, she used her hand to stop her momentum. The girl seethed with rage, her eyes filled to the brim with vitriol. With a grunt, she hurtled her shadow knives at him.

Sebastian summoned his shield charm, a shimmering wall of purple magic. Her attacks disappeared into the barrier, absorbed by his defense. Her sneer worsened. His heart dropped into his gut.

Uh oh.

Screaming like a banshee, she charged. She threw her dagger at his shield charm; the black blade pierced it as if it were made of wet paper. Before he could react, a blasting spell followed. The orange spell hurtled toward his chest.

Sebastian summoned another shield charm.

His charm shattered. The remnants of the spell that survived the collision launched him across the hall. The air in his lungs vanished once his back hit the ground. Pain exploded across his midsection before trickling down his spine. Groaning, he propped himself up with one arm and watched helplessly as Amora walked toward him.

She was a lioness, methodically stalking her prey.

Wisps of green magic swirled around her hands as she twisted her fingers, preparing the sequence. His skin itched at the sight of it. He'd see her use that spell on plenty of her torture victims. Unlike him, she never killed a subject. She just made them wish they were dead.

She was wicked.

Just like their father.

As she approached, Sebastian searched for a way out. The exit of the corridor was too far for him to run to. The portal room only had one entrance. His eyes widened as he thought of an idea.

Shadowjumping only worked when someone knew the place they wanted to travel to. The memory of the location, whether it was one foot or one continent away, had to be fresh on their mind. Every detail precise—or else they risked not making it to their destination at all, perpetually stuck in the realm between their world and the underworld.

Sebastian had heard stories of magicians who got lost.

He was determined to not be one of them.

Despite having only been in the portal room a few times, something told him the Obscurio would be able to help him. Perhaps it was the ring itself whispering in his ear, guiding him. Protecting him. He couldn't tell which thoughts were his and which ones were being inspired by the dark artifact.

At the moment, he didn't care.

He was leaving.

"Father will love me for this," Amora mused as she neared him. The magic around her hands burned brightly, the color of emeralds reflecting off the polished floor. Loose strands of hair fell into her enraged face. Color had rushed to her pale cheeks.

She looked insane.

Perhaps she was.

"Stopping the traitor," she whispered. "I saved the mission. He'll love me."

Sebastian recognized the desperation in her voice. Too many times had she sought his approval. Too many times had she pined for his love, only to be rejected. She'd never admit it, but it's all she ever wanted.

Wincing, Sebastian inched backward.

"He'll never us, 'Mora. You know that."

She hesitated, her hands lowering. Her magic dimmed as her expression shifted. Sadness seeped through her steely demeanor.

Sebastian took his opportunity to flee. Closing his eyes, he called upon the power of the Obscurio and manifested the best image of the portal room he possibly could. The high ceilings, guarded by multiple gargoyles, exploded into his mind. The portal, a swirling void reminiscent of a starry night, sat wedged between a black archway. A single Shade manned his station, controlling the whereabouts of the magical rift in space and time.

It was as clear as ever.

Shadows pulled toward him, gathering beneath his body.

He fell into them, only to resurface seconds later in the center of the portal room.