Taste of ecstasy

Chapter 44

At The Rise

At the very edge of Idris the ancient border where the Blood Forest began the mist was not natural. It writhed with its own life, creeping from tree to tree, carrying whispers of an older darkness. This was where Killian stood, his black armour glistening wetly, his breath visible in the chill night. Behind him, some of his beasts crouched low to the earth, their silvered eyes gleaming. They were impatient, growling low, their breath steaming like smoke. Killian didn't need them yet. This was not a night for brute force.

This was a night for shadow. He lifted his hand, fingers inked with runes that pulsed faint red. "Sleep," he whispered, his voice rolling like venom in water. "Sleep, little birds. Sleep, golden lions. Sleep until the cage is mine." From his hand, a black vapour rose silken, strange. It caught the moonlight, curling upward like the threads of a spider's web. As the wind shifted, it rolled silently toward the palace.

In The Palace

Prince Jace had just laughed loud, warm, and easy as he teased Clary about falling asleep over her sketchbook. She was perched in the royal lounge, eyes drowsy, ink smudges on her fingers. "You haven't slept since yesterday," Jace murmured, crouching down to kiss her temple. "Come to bed, firefly." Clary smiled faintly. "Just one more sketch of the new ballroom curtains..." she started to say but her pen slipped from her hand.

Jace frowned. "Clary?" She didn't answer. She slumped forward, breathing soft. "Clary?!" He shook her shoulder gently, panic rising but before he could shout for help, his own vision blurred. The world tilted. Something sweet and metallic filled his throat. He collapsed beside her, their hands brushing on the floor. Elsewhere, Princess Isabell was leaning against Raphael on the balcony of her wing. They had been laughing genuinely, for once over the way Raphael had awkwardly tried dancing at their wedding feast. She opened her mouth to tease him again when her words faltered, her body going heavy.

Raphael caught her just in time. "Princess? What....." His own breath hitched. A strange fog was rolling into his lungs, invisible but heavy. He tried to shout for the guards, but his body betrayed him. His knees buckled, and he fell with her in his arms, unconscious before they hit the polished marble. One by one, the palace guards fell, swords clattering quietly against stone. Horses in the royal stables slumped against their stalls, their breaths even and shallow. The entire palace had been swallowed by an unnatural sleep.

Veiled in Shadows

A shadow slithered through the palace gates without resistance.

Killian.

No one saw him enter. The wards strong enough to hold an army were useless against this kind of spell. He walked as if through a dream, every step deliberate, his boots silent on the floor. The great hall was empty. The corridors echoed with nothing but his own breath. He passed tapestries of Lightwood history, the triumphs of kings, the oaths of guardians. He smiled faintly. "History is so fragile," he murmured, dragging one finger across a golden embroidery. "All it takes is one thread pulled." He climbed the grand staircase with no hurry. He already knew where he was going.

Magnus Stirs

In the royal bedchamber, Magnus stirred. He wasn't asleep. Not fully. Not when that creeping sensation like the cold breath of his nightmares licked across his magic. He opened his eyes sharply, sitting up on the bed. Something was wrong. The palace was too quiet. "Alexander?" he whispered, but Alec wasn't there. He had gone to meet Simon in the study, discussing the strengthening of outer wards. Magnus's hand instinctively found his belly. The child shifted beneath his palm. The bond flared. Someone was coming.

He rose from the bed, moving quickly toward the door, his long robe brushing against the floor. He stopped. The silence on the other side of the door was heavy. Too heavy.