It was as ostentatious a place as there ever was. The furnishings were all rich dark woods, polished to a brilliant sheen and enormous and overbearing in their presence. It was a circular office, the back half opposite the door was dominated by an enormous oak desk. The monitor of a computer sat at an angle on the left side of the desk, while the rest of the large space was dedicated to a plethora of texts?new and old?spread open with scribblings in the margins of all the pages. The walls were lined bookshelves that were home to yet more hefty tomes bound in all manner of materials, the row of spines broken up by the occasional odd and end, each whispering with some untapped arcane power. Two chairs sat in front of the desk, both large and overstuffed and of the same archaic design as the rest of the furnishings, styles from a bygone era.
Behind the desk stood Cavan, leaning forward with arms outstretched and hands pressed against a small and insignificant looking book, holding it open as his eyes raked over a page. He stood like that for quite a while, reading and re-reading the same lines over again until the silence was broken by a knock at the red door leading out of the office. Cavan looked up at the door, frowned, and straightened. A whisper of will dispelled the wards in an instant. He visualized the web of energy that crisscrossed over the door and watched as it fell apart like a knot undone with barely a tug on a strand of string. A moment later, the door opened and an old man with a slightly hunched back and eyes that seemed too large for his face walked in, cradling an armful of books and binders against his chest. He stepped immediately to the left as younger woman with cherry blonde hair walked in behind him. She wore thick framed glasses that sat a little too-far down the bridge of her nose, and a plain and unassuming dark suit. Upon seeing her, Cavan immediately straightened out of the natural slouch he normally bore and unconsciously ran his hands down his chest to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt.
The woman approached and took a seat without saying a word, while the old man turned and shut the door. He remained there, watching Cavan with those too-large eyes as though he suspected the younger man of foul play. The woman produced a cellphone from her pocket, unlocked it, and after a few taps on the screen, placed it on Cavan?s desk. It showed a timer counting down from four minutes. Cavan stood there in dumbfounded silence and watched the seconds tick by before clearing his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but the woman interrupted him.
?Ramsey,? she said. ?Sit. I must have words with you.?
Cavan?s jaw tightened, but he lowered himself into the seat behind his desk and put on an amiable smile. ?Of course. What can I do for the Stygia??
?You can put away that fake smile,? she said. ?And dispense with any further pretenses.?
Cavan?s smiled vanished. ?Anything else??
?You can tell me who framed your brother for murder.?
Though his mind raced at the thought, Cavan outwardly showed no signs of surprise. He let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over another.
?I thought it was the Council?s opinion that Owen was guilty.?
?The Council?s, yes,? the woman said. ?The evidence was staggering, and entirely too perfect.?
?Believe me, Lady Stygia??
?Molly, please,? she said, interrupting Cavan.
?Very well ? Molly ? as I was saying, if my brother were framed then I would do everything in my power to prove his innocence.?
?Is that why you interfered with the banishing ritual??
Cavan sucked on his teeth for a moment and weighed his options. He tilted his head to the side and studied the Stygia closely, then her companion.
?Yes,? he said after a pause. ?I remain convinced of Owen?s innocence, and could not bear to see him suffer the fate that was so wrongly forced upon him.?
The Stygia pursed her lips and pressed a finger to them in an expression that was decidedly thoughtful. She inclined her head to Cavan as an indication of understanding, and said, ?Of course. You are his brother, after all.?
?Exactly,? Cavan said.
?I assume, then, that you?ve been investigating the matter privately?? she asked.
?Of course.?
?And??
?And, whoever did it was clever enough to cover his tracks. Everything I?ve examined points to Owen?s guilt, however I refuse to believe him capable of murder.?
?In all this time, you?ve found absolutely nothing?? The Stygia asked with raised brows.
?Unfortunately, yes. Until that changes, Owen must remain safely hidden away?though I know it pains him to be in that place.?
?Rhy?Din??
?How did you know?? Cavan asked without missing a beat.
?Someone came to me recently with a wealth of information on the murder,? she explained, ?and made a very convincing case for Owen?s innocence.?
?Oh?? Cavan asked, feigning hopeful curiosity. ?Who is this source of yours? And what do they have to say??
?They say a mage who was close to your brother learned to replicate the unique signatures he leaves behind and the spell he designed during the war with the apostates, and arranged matters to implicate Owen in the murder so he could have him sent to a realm called Rhy?Din, where magic flowed more freely and Owen would be ripe for a similar purging of energies like that which killed Roland Turk.?
Cavan?s only reaction to the wealth of information the Stygia had obtained was to blink in simple, open surprise at the weight of it all.
?Who is your source??
?Owen Ramsey himself.?
?I see,? Cavan took a steadying breath and stood, slowly. ?Where is he??
?He?s here.?
?Here?? Cavan asked. ?Or in LA??
?He wants to talk, Mr. Ramsey. To come to an understanding with you.?
?And what do you want, Stygia??
?Molly, please,? she said, smiling prettily at him as she rose. The timer on her phone went off and she tapped it before tucking the device away into a pocket. ?I only want justice for young Owen. He?s a promising practitioner of the art, and it would be a terrible waste to lose him.?
She then turned away from Cavan and started for the door. ?Apologies, Mr. Ramsey, but I have other appointments I must keep. We will speak on the matter at greater length another time. Raymond here will contact you later, and we can decide when is most convenient for both of us.?
The old man inclined his head to Cavan and opened the door for the Stygia as she approached, to which she said a brief ?Thank you, Raymond,? before stepping through. The old man?Raymond?fixed Cavan with a steady look from those too-large eyes for a moment longer before stepping out behind the Stygia, and closed the door behind him.
Cavan let out an exasperated sigh and slammed a hand against his desk. With a snarl, he flung a book at the door before rounding the desk and drawing up the power required to reset the wards on his door. As he came within a few feet of the red door, it swung open, and Owen stepped in without knocking. He and Cavan paused mid-stride and met each other?s eyes, both hesitating.
?Cavan,? Owen said.
?Owen,? Cavan said.
?You?re doing well for yourself.?
?Been working hard.?
?I can see that.?
Owen glanced around the office, briefly, and that?s when Cavan changed the flow of the energies he had been gathering up and released them with a snarled, ?Impetu!? that sent a cone of invisible, pure force hurtling through the air toward Owen, who took a step forward and lifted his hand in a defensive motion that called up an invisible barrier that, when struck by the force of Cavan?s attack, shone with brilliant gold and white light as it sent the wave of energy off at an angle, crushing the wooden shelves off to Owen?s left and sending books scattering to the floor. Owen dropped the shield and with a cry of, ?Ignis!?, he sent a ball of angry orange fire tearing through the air. Cavan sketched a sign in the air that caused the fires to shrink as they neared him, until at least they winked away as though the air had been snuffed out.
As the last of the embers receded, Owen rushed forward and tackled Cavan to the ground with enough force to knock the air from the eldest brother?s lungs. They hit hard and slid across the floor and into Cavan?s desk. Owen sat up and pulled back a fist, prepared to strike but changed his mind at the last second and dropped the fist to grab a handful of Cavan?s shockingly red hair. He stood and, turning, dragged Cavan kicking and screaming over to the door, which closed with a gesture from Owen.
Owen could feel power in the air as Cavan prepared another assault, but he suddenly hurled his older brother at the door with a strength Cavan had never witnessed before. The impact sent his head knocking back against the heavy wood, and his vision swam as his concentration broke. He felt the power slip away and before he could reach for it again, Owen pressed a hand to his chest.
The air grew cold and still, and all colors and light in the room seemed muted and washed out. Pain lanced through his veins as though his blood was on fire, and his heart began to ache in his chest like someone had closed a fist around it and was squeezing for dear life. The pain was so sudden and intense that it stole his breath away, and he was only able to let out an incoherent gasp of anguish as Owen?s hand suddenly sank through his chest as though it were made of wet sand, and not flesh and bone. There was no blood, only an odd sort of ripple as Owen?s hand passed through, and all the pain in Cavan?s body suddenly vanished. He was only distantly aware of the sensations that followed, of a sense of power pooling up around him, of his own energy slipping further away. The world grew too dark and Cavan could barely make out the features of his brother?s face.
Suddenly, there was light again. It was flickering and weak, a silvery-gray glow that that emanated from a strange thing held lightly in Owen?s palm as he pulled his hand from Cavan?s chest. It danced like a weak flame, the tails it produced swaying under Owen?s breath as he brought it closer to his eyes for inspection. The sense of feeling slowly returned to Cavan, and instead of pain he felt pure exhaustion. His knees shook and buckled, and Owen let him fall as he stepped back.
?What have you done?? Cavan asked, his voice weak and thin. He felt very cold and very tired.
?Call it collateral,? Owen said quietly. He closed his fingers around the silver flame and it vanished.
Cavan growled something indistinct and reached instinctively for his power, but was met by a vast void of emptiness where the familiar energy normally resided. He sat up suddenly, eyes wide, staring up at Owen.
?What have you done?? he asked again, his voice cracking.
?You were always addicted to power,? Owen said by way of explanation.
?Owen!? Cavan shouted, finding his strength in a mixture of fear and fury. He stood, slowly, and clenched his fists as he squared his shoulders like a man readying himself to throw a punch. ?Owen, I swear to God, I?ll??
?You?ll do exactly as I say,? Owen interrupted, ?willingly, or otherwise.?
Cavan snarled an obscenity and started toward Owen, who quirked an eyebrow at him. Owen raised a hand, fingers spread out like he was waving, and Cavan stopped. His jaw tightened, the veins in his arms and temples visibly standing out against his skin as he struggled to move and found the effort to be futile. There wasn?t a sense of force holding him back, no pressure closed around his limbs and prevented him from acting. Rather than any outside obstruction, Cavan realized, that his own body simply refused to listen to him.
Owen stepped forward and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He dabbed at Cavan?s sweaty brow and delicately brushed some of the stray hairs away from his brother?s forehead with a smile that seemed almost sad.
?What happened to us, Cavan?? he asked. ?What did I do to deserve so much hate and scorn from you??
?It was never about you, Owen,? Cavan barked angrily. ?You?re nothing. Just a means to an end.?
Owen?s eyes flashed with something unrecognizable and he nodded, his expression resetting to one of grim determination.
?You?ll do exactly as I say, Cavan,? Owen said. ?Or you?ll never get your power back, and I?ll bring your whole world crashing down around you. No one learns of this. When I leave, you?ll clean up, pretend like everything is normal, and wait for Molly to contact you. Understood??
?Why don?t you just kill me??
?Because I need you, Cavan.?
?Fuck you, Owen.?
Owen gestured and Cavan felt the rush of control returning to his limbs. It was so sudden and unexpected that he fell, unable to assume control quickly enough to remain standing. His body went limp for a moment and Owen stepped around him and approached the door.
?Molly?s taught me a great deal since I came home,? he said. ?And she seems to have a vested interest in my success. You may not fear me, brother, but you should be terrified of incurring the Stygia?s wrath. Where I can only kill you, she can make it so that you never were.?
Cavan shakily?and with the help of his desk as support?climbed to his feet and turned to glare at Owen.
?Get out of my office,? he said.
Owen glanced back at him, sighed, and stepped through the red door, closing it behind him.
Behind the desk stood Cavan, leaning forward with arms outstretched and hands pressed against a small and insignificant looking book, holding it open as his eyes raked over a page. He stood like that for quite a while, reading and re-reading the same lines over again until the silence was broken by a knock at the red door leading out of the office. Cavan looked up at the door, frowned, and straightened. A whisper of will dispelled the wards in an instant. He visualized the web of energy that crisscrossed over the door and watched as it fell apart like a knot undone with barely a tug on a strand of string. A moment later, the door opened and an old man with a slightly hunched back and eyes that seemed too large for his face walked in, cradling an armful of books and binders against his chest. He stepped immediately to the left as younger woman with cherry blonde hair walked in behind him. She wore thick framed glasses that sat a little too-far down the bridge of her nose, and a plain and unassuming dark suit. Upon seeing her, Cavan immediately straightened out of the natural slouch he normally bore and unconsciously ran his hands down his chest to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt.
The woman approached and took a seat without saying a word, while the old man turned and shut the door. He remained there, watching Cavan with those too-large eyes as though he suspected the younger man of foul play. The woman produced a cellphone from her pocket, unlocked it, and after a few taps on the screen, placed it on Cavan?s desk. It showed a timer counting down from four minutes. Cavan stood there in dumbfounded silence and watched the seconds tick by before clearing his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but the woman interrupted him.
?Ramsey,? she said. ?Sit. I must have words with you.?
Cavan?s jaw tightened, but he lowered himself into the seat behind his desk and put on an amiable smile. ?Of course. What can I do for the Stygia??
?You can put away that fake smile,? she said. ?And dispense with any further pretenses.?
Cavan?s smiled vanished. ?Anything else??
?You can tell me who framed your brother for murder.?
Though his mind raced at the thought, Cavan outwardly showed no signs of surprise. He let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over another.
?I thought it was the Council?s opinion that Owen was guilty.?
?The Council?s, yes,? the woman said. ?The evidence was staggering, and entirely too perfect.?
?Believe me, Lady Stygia??
?Molly, please,? she said, interrupting Cavan.
?Very well ? Molly ? as I was saying, if my brother were framed then I would do everything in my power to prove his innocence.?
?Is that why you interfered with the banishing ritual??
Cavan sucked on his teeth for a moment and weighed his options. He tilted his head to the side and studied the Stygia closely, then her companion.
?Yes,? he said after a pause. ?I remain convinced of Owen?s innocence, and could not bear to see him suffer the fate that was so wrongly forced upon him.?
The Stygia pursed her lips and pressed a finger to them in an expression that was decidedly thoughtful. She inclined her head to Cavan as an indication of understanding, and said, ?Of course. You are his brother, after all.?
?Exactly,? Cavan said.
?I assume, then, that you?ve been investigating the matter privately?? she asked.
?Of course.?
?And??
?And, whoever did it was clever enough to cover his tracks. Everything I?ve examined points to Owen?s guilt, however I refuse to believe him capable of murder.?
?In all this time, you?ve found absolutely nothing?? The Stygia asked with raised brows.
?Unfortunately, yes. Until that changes, Owen must remain safely hidden away?though I know it pains him to be in that place.?
?Rhy?Din??
?How did you know?? Cavan asked without missing a beat.
?Someone came to me recently with a wealth of information on the murder,? she explained, ?and made a very convincing case for Owen?s innocence.?
?Oh?? Cavan asked, feigning hopeful curiosity. ?Who is this source of yours? And what do they have to say??
?They say a mage who was close to your brother learned to replicate the unique signatures he leaves behind and the spell he designed during the war with the apostates, and arranged matters to implicate Owen in the murder so he could have him sent to a realm called Rhy?Din, where magic flowed more freely and Owen would be ripe for a similar purging of energies like that which killed Roland Turk.?
Cavan?s only reaction to the wealth of information the Stygia had obtained was to blink in simple, open surprise at the weight of it all.
?Who is your source??
?Owen Ramsey himself.?
?I see,? Cavan took a steadying breath and stood, slowly. ?Where is he??
?He?s here.?
?Here?? Cavan asked. ?Or in LA??
?He wants to talk, Mr. Ramsey. To come to an understanding with you.?
?And what do you want, Stygia??
?Molly, please,? she said, smiling prettily at him as she rose. The timer on her phone went off and she tapped it before tucking the device away into a pocket. ?I only want justice for young Owen. He?s a promising practitioner of the art, and it would be a terrible waste to lose him.?
She then turned away from Cavan and started for the door. ?Apologies, Mr. Ramsey, but I have other appointments I must keep. We will speak on the matter at greater length another time. Raymond here will contact you later, and we can decide when is most convenient for both of us.?
The old man inclined his head to Cavan and opened the door for the Stygia as she approached, to which she said a brief ?Thank you, Raymond,? before stepping through. The old man?Raymond?fixed Cavan with a steady look from those too-large eyes for a moment longer before stepping out behind the Stygia, and closed the door behind him.
Cavan let out an exasperated sigh and slammed a hand against his desk. With a snarl, he flung a book at the door before rounding the desk and drawing up the power required to reset the wards on his door. As he came within a few feet of the red door, it swung open, and Owen stepped in without knocking. He and Cavan paused mid-stride and met each other?s eyes, both hesitating.
?Cavan,? Owen said.
?Owen,? Cavan said.
?You?re doing well for yourself.?
?Been working hard.?
?I can see that.?
Owen glanced around the office, briefly, and that?s when Cavan changed the flow of the energies he had been gathering up and released them with a snarled, ?Impetu!? that sent a cone of invisible, pure force hurtling through the air toward Owen, who took a step forward and lifted his hand in a defensive motion that called up an invisible barrier that, when struck by the force of Cavan?s attack, shone with brilliant gold and white light as it sent the wave of energy off at an angle, crushing the wooden shelves off to Owen?s left and sending books scattering to the floor. Owen dropped the shield and with a cry of, ?Ignis!?, he sent a ball of angry orange fire tearing through the air. Cavan sketched a sign in the air that caused the fires to shrink as they neared him, until at least they winked away as though the air had been snuffed out.
As the last of the embers receded, Owen rushed forward and tackled Cavan to the ground with enough force to knock the air from the eldest brother?s lungs. They hit hard and slid across the floor and into Cavan?s desk. Owen sat up and pulled back a fist, prepared to strike but changed his mind at the last second and dropped the fist to grab a handful of Cavan?s shockingly red hair. He stood and, turning, dragged Cavan kicking and screaming over to the door, which closed with a gesture from Owen.
Owen could feel power in the air as Cavan prepared another assault, but he suddenly hurled his older brother at the door with a strength Cavan had never witnessed before. The impact sent his head knocking back against the heavy wood, and his vision swam as his concentration broke. He felt the power slip away and before he could reach for it again, Owen pressed a hand to his chest.
The air grew cold and still, and all colors and light in the room seemed muted and washed out. Pain lanced through his veins as though his blood was on fire, and his heart began to ache in his chest like someone had closed a fist around it and was squeezing for dear life. The pain was so sudden and intense that it stole his breath away, and he was only able to let out an incoherent gasp of anguish as Owen?s hand suddenly sank through his chest as though it were made of wet sand, and not flesh and bone. There was no blood, only an odd sort of ripple as Owen?s hand passed through, and all the pain in Cavan?s body suddenly vanished. He was only distantly aware of the sensations that followed, of a sense of power pooling up around him, of his own energy slipping further away. The world grew too dark and Cavan could barely make out the features of his brother?s face.
Suddenly, there was light again. It was flickering and weak, a silvery-gray glow that that emanated from a strange thing held lightly in Owen?s palm as he pulled his hand from Cavan?s chest. It danced like a weak flame, the tails it produced swaying under Owen?s breath as he brought it closer to his eyes for inspection. The sense of feeling slowly returned to Cavan, and instead of pain he felt pure exhaustion. His knees shook and buckled, and Owen let him fall as he stepped back.
?What have you done?? Cavan asked, his voice weak and thin. He felt very cold and very tired.
?Call it collateral,? Owen said quietly. He closed his fingers around the silver flame and it vanished.
Cavan growled something indistinct and reached instinctively for his power, but was met by a vast void of emptiness where the familiar energy normally resided. He sat up suddenly, eyes wide, staring up at Owen.
?What have you done?? he asked again, his voice cracking.
?You were always addicted to power,? Owen said by way of explanation.
?Owen!? Cavan shouted, finding his strength in a mixture of fear and fury. He stood, slowly, and clenched his fists as he squared his shoulders like a man readying himself to throw a punch. ?Owen, I swear to God, I?ll??
?You?ll do exactly as I say,? Owen interrupted, ?willingly, or otherwise.?
Cavan snarled an obscenity and started toward Owen, who quirked an eyebrow at him. Owen raised a hand, fingers spread out like he was waving, and Cavan stopped. His jaw tightened, the veins in his arms and temples visibly standing out against his skin as he struggled to move and found the effort to be futile. There wasn?t a sense of force holding him back, no pressure closed around his limbs and prevented him from acting. Rather than any outside obstruction, Cavan realized, that his own body simply refused to listen to him.
Owen stepped forward and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He dabbed at Cavan?s sweaty brow and delicately brushed some of the stray hairs away from his brother?s forehead with a smile that seemed almost sad.
?What happened to us, Cavan?? he asked. ?What did I do to deserve so much hate and scorn from you??
?It was never about you, Owen,? Cavan barked angrily. ?You?re nothing. Just a means to an end.?
Owen?s eyes flashed with something unrecognizable and he nodded, his expression resetting to one of grim determination.
?You?ll do exactly as I say, Cavan,? Owen said. ?Or you?ll never get your power back, and I?ll bring your whole world crashing down around you. No one learns of this. When I leave, you?ll clean up, pretend like everything is normal, and wait for Molly to contact you. Understood??
?Why don?t you just kill me??
?Because I need you, Cavan.?
?Fuck you, Owen.?
Owen gestured and Cavan felt the rush of control returning to his limbs. It was so sudden and unexpected that he fell, unable to assume control quickly enough to remain standing. His body went limp for a moment and Owen stepped around him and approached the door.
?Molly?s taught me a great deal since I came home,? he said. ?And she seems to have a vested interest in my success. You may not fear me, brother, but you should be terrified of incurring the Stygia?s wrath. Where I can only kill you, she can make it so that you never were.?
Cavan shakily?and with the help of his desk as support?climbed to his feet and turned to glare at Owen.
?Get out of my office,? he said.
Owen glanced back at him, sighed, and stepped through the red door, closing it behind him.