Chapter Twenty-Five

AFTER BEING ESCORTED into a large amphitheatre made entirely of stone, Sparks, Tully, and Dev were situated as spectators in the first row seated at the farthest right in the theatre. The roughly hewn granite bench made for an uncomfortable and cold seat. Cam and Everton were separated from the witches by a couple of sections but sat in the same row. Byron and Addas were nowhere to be seen. Everyone wore restraints, which given the circumstances, made sense. Without the use of hands, most magical creatures would be prevented from casting complicated spells, and having a werewolf bound on the day of the full moon was just smart.

Sparks studied the room before him. The amphitheatre had the same smell and ambience as the jail cells they had been left in overnight. They had to be underground given the musty odour. The room glowed, bathed in identical lighting to their overnight accommodations—an eerie red casted ruddiness. On the walls, ceiling, and floor various sigils had been carefully crafted. Hex script accompanied them, too, and although Sparks’s skill with various languages proved adequate for his level of witchery, he readily admitted to not being able to identify all the various styles.

He did recognize the Theban alphabet, Norse runes, Enochian symbols, and even Grimm which was disconcerting as Grimm seals meant dire business.

A guard stood sentinel before them and two were stationed on each side of the long table laid out across a raised dais on the floor of the amphitheatre. A line of Magistrates entered the auditorium, one after another, seven in total, all wearing deeply hooded black robes which puddled and swished on the floor as they moved. The hoods also concealed their faces.

In perfect unison they glided over to the table and took up a position behind the chairs. Again, with alarming synchronicity, they sat. From under the table a variety of items were laid on the surface, which had been draped in a black tablecloth. Cell phones, several crystal shards, a hip sack, a glass bottle, several wallets, loose change, an amulet, and some vials filled with a curious green liquid formed a perfect row displayed out in front of the Magistrates.

Recognizing the black cell phone cover with a single red rose emblazoned on its back, Sparks hoped at the end of all of this they would get their personal effects. Replacing a cell phone right now would be prohibitively expensive. Money he didn’t have, and his contract on the cell still had over a year left.

The night before had been long and left him chilled to the bone with nothing but a simple cot to sleep on, and no blanket to keep himself warm. In the early morning, everyone had been removed at the same time and berated at length, barraged with questions and demanding intricate details of the day’s events leading up to the wraith attack. Sparks hadn’t had much sleep and second-guessed his recollection of the previous days’ events. He had hoped his memory of the facts proved precise enough for the Magistrates and he had tried to omit anything that might land anyone in hot water. Sparks worried if his story matched Dev and Tully’s.

And despite the conversation and numerous assurances from the guys, he still waxed and waned over their new arrangement. He needed time to himself to think about where he wanted and needed to be.

The hooded figures seated at the large table before them remained anonymous—maintaining an air of mystery—as they had during the interrogations. They took their time getting organized, bringing out case files, pens, and several laptops. The lengthy time they took to get organized also had the effect of maintaining authority over the prisoners. Being a Magistrate within the magical community wasn’t a sought-after position and carrying out punishments and sentences required a certain amount of ruthlessness. No one wanted to know their neighbour, or worse, coven mate had been conscripted into being a law enforcer for the Shadow Realm.

Sparks understood the need for hiding identities.

“Witches, come forward.” A woman spoke. One whose tone didn’t leave any room to question her authority.

Dev, Tully, and Sparks presented themselves before the Council.

“We have reviewed each of your statements. Your stories have all corroborated the others closely enough. However, you are still guilty of being present with a group of individuals who exposed the Shadow Realm to humans. The situation required a massive containment and cleanup. The penalty for such a crime is usually a binding for a year and a day. No access to magic whatsoever. But we have also learned you three are responsible for taking over the role the Guardians of the Night Grove have performed for many, many years.

“Because of this, we are willing to forgo said binding so the throttling of the ley lines can be re-initiated. Make no mistake, you are on a timeline to get this done. We have too many reports of banned and exiled dark creatures returning to our neutral zone. We expect safety to return to our city in short order. You have one month. On or before the next full moon, the ley line issue needs to be resolved.

“Please take a seat.” With a wave of her hand, a guard appeared to the left, and escorted the boys to their assigned stations.

“Cameron Habersham and Everton Lilch, please approach.” This time a different hooded figure spoke. A masculine voice. A different guard ensured the werewolf and the fae approached the Council but maintained an appropriate distance.

“Cameron, although the destruction of a wraith would normally be considered a commendable action, the way in which you accomplished the feat led to multiple reported sightings. You have saved this city from a serious threat, but in the same breath you exposed the Shadow Realm. As we cannot weigh in on matters of the fae, we have asked Lady Aine to be present. Lady, the floor is yours.” The hooded figure gestured toward the top of the theatre which remained covered in shadows.

A series of steep stone steps led from the floor up to the darkness in the rafters. From this concealed place, an ethereal white glow descended until Lady Aine stood in the centre of the dais close to the front table.

Lady Aine’s face left no expectations for Cam’s judgement to be anything less than severe.

“Cam, what do our traditions and customs say about formal settings such as these? What are you to do when someone who outranks you enters the room?”

“Shit.” Cam immediately took a knee.

Everton, not familiar enough with the inner workings of fae court, only wanted to support his new boyfriend, and he, too, kneeled before the fae queen.

“Everton, it is noted that you are attempting to be polite, but you are not one of mine, and therefore I do not expect you to maintain our customs. However, your efforts are appreciated. Cam, take note. This is an example of respect.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What did I tell you on the day you attempted to flee the Ancestral Lands?”

“That I wasn’t to get caught.”

Lady Aine cocked an eyebrow, clearly surprised Cam remembered. “Correct. And yet, here I am. I am extremely disappointed in you. You continue to abuse my graciousness. I had so hoped with a little free rein you would have come to understand what we are, and why our traditions and customs are so important to follow. You have failed, once again, spectacularly.

“It hurts me to do this, but you are exiled, Cam Habersham. Your presence is a threat to fae and as such, I cannot risk the safety of my people over the insolence of a single human turned fae. You have not accepted the responsibility to uphold our laws and customs. You refuse to assimilate yourself into our fold. Therefore, you are no longer welcome in the Ancestral Lands. You shall not return. You are no longer a part of us.”

“But your highness—” Cam started, but Ev interrupted.

“Your ladyship,” Everton spoke. “Please, may I?”

Lady Aine eyed Everton carefully, then said, “Very well.”

“I apologize for Cam. I know he can be rash, careless, and thoughtless at times.”

“Not helping!” Cam glared, but Everton waved him to be quiet.

“I know what it’s like to be lost, to feel like you’re the only one of your kind. And to some extent, Cam truly is unique—at least here in these parts. He is very young and still learning who he is. In my rebellious youth I sacrificed everything, including my own humanity, over rash decisions and needing to do things on my own terms.”

“Go on.” Lady Aine’s jaw tensed as Ev continued.

“I beg of you to give Cam a one-year grace period. He will stay with me, in my pack. When I deliver him to you next fall, he will be a different man. I promise.”

“Well.” Lady Aine raised an eyebrow. She stood silent for several moments. “Let me make something clear to you, Everton Lilch, werewolf. We generally do not allow your kind within the limits of our village. For many reasons. Unchecked anger issues being top of the list. I am impressed you have control of yours, especially on the day of a full moon. That speaks to your level of mastery over your bestial side.” The queen turned to look at Cam.

From where Sparks sat, his gaze followed Cam’s tail flicking to and fro like a metronome. The motion accelerated which Sparks took to be his nerves. Cam’s skin glistened from beads of sweat.

“My decision is final. Cam has already been granted more than enough chances. He is to be left on his own. However, I will grant you an audience in one year’s time, near Groundswell. Present your case to me, and I will evaluate whether Cam has evolved. If I cannot measure a suitable change, your exile will be permanent. Regardless, Cam will never be able to live in the Ancestral Lands. Your only option now is whether I will entertain the notion of you being a welcomed visitor. But know this. Even a single year cut off from his own kind, Cam’s odds are not good. Even now I can sense the separation sickness which will eventually overtake him. We will not be available for assistance. This sickness will kill him if left unattended. You are on your own to figure out your salvation.” She turned to Cam. “If you can show a marked change, and endure until this time next year, I will reconsider whether or not you will be able to be counted among our kind.” She paused. Her words created a tension that lay heavy in the space between her and Cam. She turned toward Everton. “I will send word through a messenger of where and when to find me. I expect you to show with or without him. Understood?”

“Yes.” Everton stretched out and grabbed Cam’s hand.

“Very well.” Lady Aine burst into a cloud of butterflies, beetles, and dragonflies, and in seconds every insect had fluttered or skittered away, leaving no trace the fae had ever been present.

“Shit!” Cam stood, approached the long table where the Magistrates all sat, and attempted to grab the pearlescent vessel Lady Aine had given him.

The guard unleashed a whip, and in a graceful stroke of his arm, the sinewy rope lashed out, encircling Cam and holding him tight to where he stood.

“You will return to your spot immediately.”

Cam’s head hung. He backed up and repositioned himself beside Everton. This time Cam grabbed Everton.

“I believe sufficient punishment has been carried out for the fae. Everton Lilch, you are charged with shifting in front of humans, thus exposing the Shadow Realm. We have no ability to strip your body’s lycanthropy away from you. You are, and shall always be, werewolf. However, we can prevent you from shifting for a period of time.

“It is this council’s decision to halt your shifting. But to remain human seems too easy. You will shift and once in wolf form we will bind you for twelve moon cycles.”

“No.” Everton’s eyes went wide.

“You can’t!” Cam shouted.

“How can I help Cam if I’m—”

“Guards,” the Magistrate called out and the man with the whip came and forcibly escorted Cam and Everton to their seats.

“Bring in the last party.”

More Magistrate guardsmen appeared from a side entrance. A contingent of them, each holding a weapon. There were staves, war hammers, a mace, and a particularly sharp-looking set of khopesh swords.

In the centre of the guardsmen a heavily shackled and chained Byron and Addas—who was thankfully human—were escorted. They were led to the centre of the room and made to kneel before the Council.

“Byron Radcliffe and Addas Khoury, two highly respected members of our community, are now brought before us with a roster of committed crimes. Sacrificing fae for power. Exposing the Shadow Realm to humans. Interfering with the natural development of a witch. Illegal entrapment of community members, extortion, murder, and use of banned substances to name the most heinous infractions.” The hooded figure shook their head. “I am at a loss. Needless to say, your abuse of power has been rumoured for quite some time, but we never had any proof. Now, here the evidence is all laid out before us. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”

“I did everything to save Addas, and I would go through every effort to spare him all over again.”

“As much as I understand the need to protect the ones we love, there are boundaries. You should have sought out help. But instead, you deviated into treacherous territory, and look where that has landed you.”

“But he’s still alive.”

“Yes, but he’s an abomination. Addas, your place of employment was searched on the advice of Mr. Lilch. Do you have anything to say?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” Addas’s face had been stoic. Not any longer. He broke down. “I need help. I don’t want to be this.”

Chains rattled as Byron attempted to reach out for his lover, but Addas flinched and moved away from him.

“Addas Khoury, you are as far as we know, one of a kind. You will be kept here, in Sanctuary for the time being, but kept in a magically induced coma. Your abilities are unknown, as is your strength, and given the werewolf nature and bloodlust, you are also a dangerous creature with a penchant for killing. You will be studied. I do not know the outcome—if you can be saved or not—but we cannot release you into the world. Do you understand?”

Addas hung his head.

“Do you have any last words?”

“I’m sorry.” Tears rolled down Addas’s face, but the salty drops ran red streaks down his cheeks. His eyes filled with blood.

“Guards, Magistrate Eighty-Six, please proceed.”

A guard pushed a gurney out from behind the curtains which concealed the side entrance to the dais. Another guard escorted Addas to where a silver-lined table awaited. The guard gestured for Addas to lie on the table. He hesitated but complied.

The silver made Addas’s flesh sear, and although his face clearly registered pain, he accepted his fate. Every muscle in his enormous body seized, awaiting his final sentence. Addas sobbed and kept whispering over and over, “I’m sorry.”

A Magistrate appeared from the side wearing a robe of blood red. They approached the gurney.

Black salt was poured around the edge of the gurney. The rock crystals would help ensure nothing magical would get in, or creep beyond the boundary.

The robed figure poured a single glass of liquid overtop of Addas. His clothes dissolved, leaving him naked and shivering. But the oddest thing happened. The only fluid poured over Addas had come from the glass, and yet the water continued to expand, filling the bottom of the table, pooling in the corners, and forming puddles. The searing of Addas’s flesh stopped, and wisps of smoke left wiry trails as they snaked their way skyward, dissipating into nothing.

The fluid continued to rise, with the black salt acting as a demarcation line. Addas struggled as the liquid submerged him. The salt crystals formed the base of a cube and the water rose straight up. The effect mimicked an invisible aquarium, but the fluid was far more viscous. As the magically contained cube filled up, submerging Addas’s face and nose, he struggled, fists fighting to break free, legs kicking. But the containment held fast. The water congealed, becoming thick like someone had added gelatin into the mix. The box took on a decided pink hue, but Sparks’s scrutiny failed to discern if the inherent nature of the magical liquid reflected the rose colour, or if the ambient light in the room caused the unusual pigmentation. Addas’s chest rose spasmodically as he gulped in the substance. He jerked a few times, then stilled, his panicked eyes closing.

Addas floated in the thickness surrounding him, and although he had been drowned while in human form, his body was forced into a magical state of relaxation. The body shifted and changed. The transformation to his werewolf-fae state wavered back and forth. His ears would elongate, then reshape to human. His muzzle formed and retracted. Fur erupted in patches, and as randomly retreated into the skin.

“This man is suffering. The containment field is meant to induce a state of paralysis and neutrality. His body is at war with itself. The corporeal form doesn’t even know what state is a baseline. He must have been constantly fighting to maintain any semblance of control.” The Magistrate’s head dropped slightly. Sparks didn’t know if the action indicated a silent prayer, or resignation to a creature meeting such a horrific fate.

“Byron Radcliffe, your fate lies before you. You have months left before your own werewolf infection comes to fruition. Your end will be similar to Addas’s. Until such time, you will remain incarcerated. However, given your abilities and knowledge, you will be stripped of your power.”

The Magistrate nodded once toward the red-robed figure.

“No!” Byron cried out, struggling in his chains. “No!”

Several guards surrounded him to ensure compliance. As the figure in red approached, they motioned to Byron’s right arm. Three men were required to hold the struggling witch still.

Magistrate Eighty-Six pulled a crystal-tipped wand out from within a fold of the robe and, with deft movements, a slice ripped through Byron’s arm. The flesh was pried apart by two more guards wearing latex gloves. Byron screamed in pain as his shadow onyx, wrapped in red silk thread, was extracted from in between his arm bones.

It didn’t come willingly. After having been situated in there for years, the stone had become part of the body. No single stone would inhibit a witch’s ability, but without the shadow onyx, the tether to the Shadow Realm would be weakened.

The red-robed enforcer took the stone and placed it on the table, then returned to Byron and motioned toward his chest.

The guards ripped Byron’s shirt open, exposing his skin.

From another fold within the red robe, the Magistrate removed an athame.

“Byron Radcliffe, I carve Kena inverted into your skin. A symbol normally meant to open you up to the craft when drawn in a reversed position you become closed off from the supernatural.” The blade cut deep, and the blood flowed freely. “I also invoke Hagalaz, the rune for radical change and catastrophe, for without your abilities you are embarking on a new journey.”

Magistrate Eighty-Six raised his arm with the blade pointed high. A glimmer appeared in the air as if the currents in the massive room blew toward Byron where he kneeled.

“The Magistrate is like me, normally wearing black robes—a witch of the soul. He’s absorbing energy in the room, a syphon,” Dev explained quietly.

“Finally, I invoke Isa, the rune of stagnation, stasis, and stillness. You will be forever held in this blank state. No powers, no abilities. You are now stripped of your witch powers.” The last statement echoed through the chamber; resonating vibes rippled through the room with energy the witch had gathered. The robed figure pointed the athame at the three runes carved into Byron’s chest, transferring the collected power into the runes with intention.

A stillness enshrouded the stone room, which struck Sparks as odd as an amphitheatre’s construction is meant to enhance any noise coming from the stage area.

One could have heard a pin drop.

And then…

A single bass note reverberated like someone had hit a massive drum. A ripple emanated in a shock wave out from Byron.

The stilling had ended.

Magistrate Eighty-Six took a few steps away. The guards picked up Byron, who didn’t fight. He hung as limp as a rag doll in their arms.

“Well, he won’t be causing any more problems for anyone,” Tully said, but a hint of fear trembled in his voice.

“May that never happen to any of us.” Dev grimaced.

Sparks’s wide eyes absorbed the horror he had witnessed. Living without his magic would be worse than death. The brief amount of time Byron had ripped his naturally born abilities away from him left a lasting impression. Sparks focused on watching Byron being hauled away, trying to forget the rest of what he’d already seen.

“Tully, Sparks, please come forward.”

Sparks glanced at Tully, and Tully nodded his head in the direction they were meant to go.

“Go, for Gods’ sakes don’t make them wait,” Dev whispered.

Sparks and Tully made their way to where they had stood before.

“These amber shards were determined to be, in fact, as Dev stated, part of a soul trap. Your essences are captured within. Another abuse of Byron’s power.” The Magistrate stood, picked up both pieces, examined them, and held each one close to Tully and Sparks. “Tully, this is yours. Sparks, this one belongs to you. Smash them at your feet, please.”

Doing as told, the boys hoisted the rocks above their heads and threw them at the ground near their shoes.

The impact shattered the stone, and the captured essence within swirled up and, sensing their respective owners, twirled around their bodies, until they were absorbed.

Tully breathed in deep, while the hole within Sparks filled, making him whole again.

“Better?” they were asked. Tully bowed in acknowledgement. Sparks mimicked his lover in order to maintain a good standing with the enforcers. “Good. Tully.” The Magistrate nodded to one of the guards, who disappeared beyond the curtain, then returned with a large glass jar containing a swirling mass of vines. “I believe this is yours.”

“Phineas!” Tully beamed.

The guard lifted the lid on the jar only to have Phineas torpedo itself out and scamper across the floor toward Tully. As he outstretched his arm, Phineas leaped, tendrils snapping like whips until they lashed around Tully’s wrist. As the Earth elemental burrowed its way into Tully’s arm, he winced, but smiled knowing the creature had returned.

“Please return to your seats, but take your cell phones with you. Dev, please?”

Dev climbed down and presented himself. “Do you know what this is?” The Magistrate held up an amulet.

“No, I do not.”

“This has your name engraved on it. There are a number of runes also burned onto the object. However, our inspection also revealed the amulet has been cursed. Byron would have planted this on you if he had had the opportunity. Never wear it, but I give it over to you to do with as you wish.”

“May I ask, what is the curse?”

“Solitude.”

Dev shivered, glancing at both Sparks and Tully. Reluctantly he took the item, pinching the leather strap that had been strung through an eyelet, careful not to come into contact with the object.

“It won’t do you any harm unless you wear it. The curse is fresh and has been recently laid overtop of what had been created as a talisman of welcoming. The runes nestled into the goat’s head symbol were used often by the Guardians of the Night Grove. By chance were you thinking of joining the Guardians at some point?”

“I had been asked. That never came to fruition.”

“I see. Well, I believe the intent had been to give the talisman to you upon your agreement to join the Guardians. Regardless, this belongs to you. Please take your cell device as well.”

Dev returned to his seat, still carefully keeping the amulet as far away from himself as possible. Tully took it from Dev and slid the cursed thing into his pocket.

“Cameron and Everton, please.” The Magistrate gestured to the spot where she wanted them.

The red-robed figure appeared once more.

“No. Please, not yet,” Cam cried out.

“Punishments are exacted the day the sentence is delivered. There are no exceptions.”

Ev and Cam made their way down to where the Magistrate had wanted them, but before anything happened, Ev grabbed Cam, hugged and kissed him.

“It’s only a year. I won’t be able to talk to you, but I’ll never leave your side. I promise.”

As Cam clung to Ev, he shifted into his wolf form. With all the snaps and morphing body parts, Cam ended up on the floor hugging the thickly furred scruff around Ev’s wolfen neck. Ev licked his lips, and with his snout, nuzzled Cam’s ear.

Cam’s next breath hitched as he clung tight to his man.

The enforcer removed a talisman in the shape of a wolf’s head from around his neck and placed the necklace over Ev’s head. The minute the carved wolf made contact with Ev’s fur, it melted into his body.

“The amulet will keep you bound like this for a year and one day from now. Perhaps you will take the time to contemplate appropriate places to release your wolf. As with all werewolves, your wolf form is not a true measure of the canine species, and therefore, your presence anywhere will be in question. You must remain hidden for the duration of your sentence.”

Cam sneered at the Magistrate.

“I’m sorry, young man, but there are consequences to actions taken. No one creature within the Shadow Realm is exempt. Magic is not free. There are costs to everything. I have no electronic device for you, but Ev’s is here, as is your satchel and this vial, which originally had been collected empty, and now the vial appears to be filled. With what, I am not certain, but this is yours nonetheless.”

Cam grabbed the items, shoved the cell and the bottle into his hip sack, tied the strings around his waist, and retreated to his seat. Ev padded behind him.

“You are free to go, but Dev, Tully, and Sparks—remember—one month from now your task must be completed.”

The guardsmen and the Magistrates left the amphitheatre.