Chapter 22 - Veridan

Veridan returned to his chamber in a foul mood. The energy he’d taken earlier from the nebula seemed to have drained away after his report to Danata. The woman was exhausting, a load he’d been obliged to carry for far too long.

He removed and smoothed his jacket before hanging it inside his wardrobe. Next was his shirt, which went into a wicker basket. Bare-chested, he walked to the decanter on his night table, poured himself a glass of his favorite home-brewed elixir, and savored the warmth and energy that flooded him with every sip. It was a different kind of strength than what the nebula provided. Some minor force born from wellbeing, rather than true stamina. Nonetheless, it was a good feeling.

As he set the glass down, he caught his reflection on the standing mirror. He’d seen his image on its antique surface many times, the first of which had probably been in his mother’s arms when he was no more than a newborn.

He walked closer and looked into the depths of his own eyes, hoping to reach into that past—a primordial time when life had held no meaning, and yet, had been sweet as honey. So unlike the way it had been after meeting Danata, that beautiful, energetic girl who had captured his fancy and filled his head with power-hungry schemes and lies.

Veridan’s expression soured. It was an unattractive sneer that made the lines framing his mouth look more pronounced. Even the unsightly, etched lines on his face he could blame on Danata. Time forgives no one, no matter how good the rejuvenating spells, but happiness leaves far more agreeable traces on a man’s countenance.

He had not been happy. No. But revenge would bring its own satisfaction, and maybe happiness still lay ahead somewhere after that.

He turned away from his reflection and magically opened the door to his private alcove. He stepped into the twilight of the tight space and, as his eyes adjusted, welcomed the feeling of satisfaction that always filled him when he entered this small haven.

The nebula throbbed before him, his mighty creation. He walked closer. Something about the rippling motion of its surface caught his attention.

The normally smooth surface seemed disturbed. The top layer appeared to pop and swirl, but the disruptions were so minute and fast that he couldn’t be sure they were even there. Had they been present before? Had he simply failed to notice them? A small flash of color blinked in and out of sight. Veridan leaned forward, screwing his eyes together, intent on the spot where he’d seen the flash of light.

He stared for a long moment. Nothing. Moving back a few steps, he examined the nebula from a distance, judging its size and color. He perceived no definite change. Yet, he knew something had happened. He wasn’t the kind of person to imagine things.

Bloody Fate!

This had to be the girl’s fault. She’d done something and it had affected the nebula.

It was just as he’d feared.

Veridan cursed again and slammed a fist on his work table. He hated to have his hand forced. He wanted to prepare better before going after the girl, but if she was out there, undoing what he’d worked so hard to accomplish, he had to act quickly.

He couldn’t allow anyone to interfere, much less a snotty girl who was more human than Morphid, a mediocre creature that should have never been allowed to live.

Damn Mateo, his conscience and his stupid caring instincts. This was his fault as much as Danata’s. Why did he have to interfere? Ironic how, even after the many years since he’d last seen his once friend, Mateo still managed to make himself known and tug at Veridan’s conscience.

Enough of that long-gone ghost!

Veridan had more pressing matters at the moment, like finding out where the Weaver and her Keeper had gone. Also, setting in motion the plan he’d devised with Danata.

Immediately.