"What the hell did that nonsense about beavers mean?" Shelton asked.
Adam barked a humorless laugh. "My dad and I used to concoct code ciphers and say stupid things that only we could understand. My mom would roll her eyes at us when we'd sit at the breakfast table and spout nonsense back and forth."
"A code?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, give me a minute." His eyes went unfocused for a moment before he nodded. "I think 'heart of my mundane beaver' means 'middle of my magical wood.' 'Butterflies mysterious' would mean 'answers why.'
Even translated, the words didn't make a lot of sense, so I said them aloud. "In the middle of my magical wood, lie answers why." My detective skills must have been maturing, because it made a little sense.
"Magical wood—wouldn't that mean like a staff or wand?" I said.
"That's what I was thinking," Bella said. "Inside his staff, perhaps?"
Adam pulled a compact staff from his back pocket, and snapped it out to full length. "This was my dad's staff." He rotated it, looking at the intricate carvings up and down its length. Then he smiled sadly, and pointed to one of the runes carved. It was that of a beaver. With trembling fingers, Adam pressed the carving. For a moment, nothing happened. The end of the staff flickered to light, brightening as the shape of a man's face formed.
"Dad?" Adam said, reaching tentative fingers toward the image, and pulling them back.
The nebulous image spoke. "Adam or Felicia, if you are seeing this, it means something has happened to us, and Jarrod Sager or one of our other contacts has given you the code to unlock this message. Your mother and I were handed down a task from a long line of predecessors to keep safe a secret so vital, if the wrong people were to possess it, it could mean the end of life here as we know it."
The ghostly image paused, as if collecting its thoughts. "There is too much information to compress into this message, so I will keep it short. Thousands of years ago, a race of beings we call Seraphim, or angels, entered our mortal realm. The Seraphim are divided into two factions—Brightlings and Darklings. Although the distinctions have to do with the spectrum of soul essence they feed from, there are other nuances we have yet to understand. The Brightlings enslaved humans. Used them as toys in war games. They fed from them, leeching their light, making the Brightlings even more powerful than when they'd first arrived."
Phillip Nosti's expression darkened. "The Brightlings also blessed their devoted human followers with gifts"—his voice filled with scorn at the word—"granting them immortality at a price—drinking blood, aversion to sunlight, and the vampling curse should they try to pass on their immortality."
"Vampires," Adam murmured.
"The Darklings, long oppressed by the Brightlings, sought escape to this world, and sparked a rebellion. But feeding on humans for so long made the Brightlings too strong. Demons recognized the threat the Seraphim posed to their realm should they dominate the mortals, and gave birth to the original demon spawn. The first Arcane, Moses, and the Darklings reluctantly allied with the Daemos. Even with their combined might, the Brightlings were nearly impossible to kill. The Darklings recommended an all-out assault on the only thing allowing access to our world—the Grand Nexus. Despite horrendous loss of life, they were able to remove a key component of the nexus, the Cyrinthian Rune, disabling it. Parting the rune caused a tremendous shockwave that drained the light from anyone in the blast radius, including those within range of any Alabaster Arches linked to the Grand Nexus." Philip Nosti shook his head sadly. "This left behind husks of humans, Seraphim, and Flarks—dark creatures that drain the light from the living."
The apparition flickered like a television image with a bad signal. "Moses kept the rune hidden, passing it down to generations of Arcanes, until it ended up in the hands of Ezzek Moore. He founded the Illuminati and discovered a better means for concealing the rune. Though the Illuminati long since splintered into dysfunctional cells, we have carried this burden and must pass it on to you. Should the Brightlings find the rune, they will reactivate the Grand Nexus and unleash Armageddon on this world. I have left detailed records for you. Go to the place your mother and I met, and let the staff guide you from there.
"We love you, Adam and Felicia. Please do not seek vengeance on our behalf, but work toward the greater good."
The image winked out, and the glow faded.
"Moses?" I said, wondering if it was the same guy who'd parted the Red Sea.
"Demons made Daemos?" Bella said.
Nosti's briefing had opened a king-sized can of worms.
Shelton took out his father's staff and regarded it for a moment before walking up to the statuesque remains of Bigglesworth. With a roar, he swung it like a bat, shattering the grotesquely deformed head of the dead Flark. "Rot in hell," he muttered, and left the room.
The next day, I went by the infirmary with Meghan, and explained our idea for healing those sickened by the rune with the use of drain wards to Healer Hutchins, leaving unmentioned, of course, the cause of the illness. I hoped Meghan's idea would work, but wanted to have a backup plan just in case it didn't. There was only one other person I could think of who might be able to help, but I had to find her first.
I grabbed an Arcane Daily scroll from the healer's office before I left, expecting to see Jarrod Sager's death as the top headline. Instead, it was something about the Grand Melee drawing record crowds.
"What the hell?" I asked myself.
In each class, I couldn't stop looking at Morgana's empty spot. The other kids seemed to notice it as well, their eyes wandering to me as if I might have information. I did my best to ignore them. Zagg had taken a leave of absence to study the rune. I should have skipped out on classes, but following my usual routine was more important than ever. With Bigglesworth dead, I didn't want to act unusual or guilty. If I did, Ivy might know something was up, and she was my backup solution to the aether poisoning. I just hoped she was at lunch today.
After sitting through a horrifically boring lecture where Zagg's backup read straight from the textbook, I went to the dining hall. I sat down, and took lunch, waiting, and hoping to see my sister. She never showed.
As I was trudging to my next class, someone tugged on my shirt. I spun, startled, and saw Ivy smiling innocently up at me.
"Can we get ice cream?" she asked without preamble.
A profound sense of relief swept through me. "Of course."
"I heard about Morgana," she said, eyes sad as we walked toward the gelato shop.
I steeled myself, hoping, praying she would say yes to my next question. "Would you like to stop and visit her before we get ice cream?"
Ivy's forehead pinched. She nodded. "Yes."
Healer Hutchins was out. A golem was attending the clinic, so Ivy and I walked straight in. My sister gasped when she saw the little girl, her face pallid, dark rings beneath her eyes.
"What's wrong with her?" Ivy asked.
"Some kind of magic poisoning," I said. "They don't know how to heal her."
"Oh no." Ivy touched Morgana's hand. "I like her. I—I think she was my first real friend." She looked up at me. "I like Mr. Bigglesworth, but he's a grownup like the others. He told me what to do a lot. I like friends who aren't bossy." Tears pooled in Ivy's eyes. She looked up at me, lips trembling. "Do you think she'll die, Justin? I don't want her to."
I hugged my sister. Her arms wrapped tight around me as she sobbed. After a moment, I pulled away, holding her by her shoulders. "Ivy, you're so talented and strong, you might be able to heal her." I motioned to the other children in the ward. "You might be able to heal all of them."
She wiped away tears, her face growing horrified at the sight of more children suffering from the same condition as Morgana. "This is terrible, Justin. What's making them sick? Please tell me it's not something you did, something evil."
I shook my vehemently. "No, I promise. Why would I want you to help them if I did it?"
She regarded me for a long moment, her red eyes harboring suspicion. Finally, that suspicion faded. A nod. "I'll try."
Chapter 41
A desperate breath I'd been unconsciously holding escaped. "Oh, thank you, Ivy. Thank you!"
Brow furrowed in concentration, Ivy laid a hand on Morgana's chest. Pale white light glowed between her hand and the sick girl. Minutes ticked by at a snail's pace, but I didn't dare move or ask Ivy anything which might distract her. Sweat glistened on my sister's face. Her eyes crinkled, and her face blanched even as dark bruises appeared beneath her eyes.
Ivy let out a little whimper and crumpled.
I cried out in dismay even as my lightning reflexes caught her before she hit the floor. "Ivy? Oh god, are you okay?" I touched her cheek. Rubbed her sweat-dampened hair from her face. She moaned, eyelids fluttering. The purple smudges beneath her eyes faded, and her skin took on a normal flushed hue.
Blue eyes blinked open, unfocused. Ivy looked at me, confusion on her face. "Justin? What happened?"
"You fainted," I said. "Your face started to look like Morgana's."
She groaned. "I feel sick. I think I'm going to—" With that, she threw up all over me.
For some reason, I wasn't grossed out. I didn't even yell, or jump away. Instead, I turned her over so she could empty herself out on the floor. When she was done, I felt horrible. Had she infected herself with aether poisoning? Was I responsible for making her sick, too?
"Ivy, are you okay?"
She wiped her mouth. Looked with disgust at her dress, at the floor. "I'm going to be in big trouble," she whispered, sounding frightened.
I helped her to her feet, grabbed some washcloths from a nearby sink. "I won't let you get in trouble," I said, dampening a cloth, and handing it to her to clean up.
