West of Words (Alec Lightwood)

🗝 Chapter Fifty-Four 🗝

When Varian woke up, he couldn't seem to drag his eyes open for what felt like centuries. The weight of the air was to much, and it took everything in him not to pass out again. It was as if the world pressed into every pore and screamed as loud as it quite possibly could in his ears.

The pain that had blossomed in his side that had led to him passing out was nothing more than a dull ache now, his magic had taken care of the injury itself, the rest was just the aftershock of it all.

He groaned, before immediately wincing at the sheer volume of it. His head was bent backwards over the top of what he could assume was a chair, his hands bound tightly to the arms next to him. When Varian was finally able to peel his eyes open he came to the astute observation that he was entirely alone in the room, a feeling of calm passed over him at that recognition, and he felt himself sigh and relax into the chair.

There was a window, small and almost obsolete in the amount of light that it let out. The Warlock's eyes fell on the sky, the beautiful sunrise just on the other side of the glass.

The beauty of the world was such an opposite to how the boy was feeling, the bright pinks and oranges a painters canvas across the world. In any other situation, Varian would have been astonished, impressed and overall in awe, but the fear of his unknown location overwhelmed what beauty that Varian could see.

Varian tore his eyes away from the painted sky, wandering around the room and glancing at the singular metal plated door. The room was not empty of the emotions that had been in it, blue drenched the walls, tinged with a painfully bright red that could only mean one thing.

This room was not safe, and as soon as Varian came to that final realization, he started to struggle against the chains holding him to the chair. His concentration turned from the room to his hands, noticing how each finger seemed bound to the metal, it was not a painful experience, but rather a debilitating one. Without the ability to move his fingers, Varian could not use his magic, and the idea nearly sent him into a panic, though it fully explained why the world was so silent around him.

Despite every wish and want to start tugging as hard as he could in an attempt at releasing himself, Varian stopped himself, taking a deep breath and letting his eyes fall shut. The world became a distant hum, as he concentrated on the heat lingering inside his chest.

To bring the fire to the front of his mind in such an exposed and fragile state is a difficult thing, the realization of how quickly the fire would drain him was some part of the reasons behind why it was taking so long to call.

But the second Varian reopened his eyes they glowed in an unearthly way, if someone were to look on it would look like the sun shining bright in his eyes, maybe a halo just above his hair, his skin heating up aggressively before bursting into flames of white hot beautiful heat. The chains (and chair itself) melting away in just a few seconds, he doused the fire before it could get out of hand, letting himself pause briefly on his hands and knees as he took a deep and helpful breath. His shoulders lifting slightly as he did, his hands pushed hard against the ground, the heat still emanating from him created a divot in the metal floor.

The molten silver stuck to his fingers, the heat entirely missed by the Warlock as he concentrated on pushing himself to his feet. It was a struggle, and the second he did his vision swayed, the painted sunrise looking more like a Van Gogh then a Claude Monet, he started towards the door and with an easy wave of his hand the door clicked loudly before swinging without a creak.

Light led the way to the top deck, repeating the path he had taken the night before in a much more careful way then he had previously. There was no one on the deck, and no matter how suspicious that was, Varian continued unbothered, just as he reached the edge of the ship a voice spoke up from behind him.

"Rather impressive for a Warlock." The voice was so distinctly villainous, and Varian knew without a second thought that he had been caught once again, the sludge of Valentine's soul a disgusting stain on the painted sky.

Varian turned slowly. "I aim to please." There was absolutely no humor in his voice despite the fact that it was a sarcastic retort, Valentine smiled anyways, his lips stretching in a way that made the man appear inhumane.

Valentine took a few steps forward, his hands resting on the sword on his waist, though he made no attempt at using it. It was just him on the deck, and that brought just a bit of concern to the forefront of Varian's mind.

Varian's hands shook by his side, he glanced over his shoulder at the edge of the ship wishing more than anything that he had the energy to continue.

"You are the only son of Magnus Bane, High half-blood of New York." Valentine's voice had an edge to it as he spoke. "Work for me, and I'll give you all of New York as your playground. All the power you could want, all the Warlocks and Downworlders in your control."

Varian was not swayed in any way by Valentine's offer, he glared at the man. "Drop dead."

"Hmm." Valentine looked Varian up and down, before speaking again. "We've met before."

Varian did not respond. The volume of the world started to rise the longer that Varian stood against the rail, the magic that flowed through every atom giving him the strength that he would need to save himself from the situation.

Valentine stepped forward, his eyes focusing on Varian's face before flicking down to the Warlock's hands that shook by his sides. Valentine faked a sad smile.

"Pity you said no to joining me." Varian tensed at the words, turning and running at full speed to the edge of the ship, an unseen force stopping him just before he could touch the handrail. 

Hands wrapped around his arms, slamming him full speed into the metal floor of the ship. Varian bit back a cry of pain as he attempted to struggle free, a knee dug into his spine as someone else maneuvered his arms by his sides. Two new hands grabbed him by the wrist forcing his hands to lay flat on the ground, and despite his pain addled mind Varian continued to thrash and fight.

Valentines words were ominous as he spoke again, and Varian realized how unsure he was about whatever was going to happen.

"I'd hate to ruin such a powerful weapon."