Primalcraft: Crimes of the Father (Book 3)

Chapter 25

"Well, this was surely worth getting out of bed for," Ciaran muttered as he peered out from the tree. Blake grimaced in agreement as he watched the strange iron hearth, shimmering in a green light as the fire flickered.

The glade seemed to be empty, but the air was thick with dark magic. The ground was dark, the grass dead and the trees were only mere bones of what they once were. No spirits resided here anymore, only ghosts of what they once were. Shades twisted from the ground and trees, ready to devour anyone who comes closer.

As they had gathered all the people and split up, Blake went with Ciaran, much to Jaxon's dismay who went with Aeron. They had searched the woods, close to the witches who were too focused on the shifters to notice two hedgewitches walking among them but they saw nothing. Then Blake had gotten an idea. The image had flashed in his mind to the point that he couldn't ignore it and he had suggested Ciaran follow him.

Woe and behold, where the entrance of the dark temple Alex and Hadrien had once visited, stood the Hearth of Ire.

"Any reason why you knew it was here?" Ciaran asked.

Blake shook his head. He seriously had no idea. He just pulled out the phone and sent a text to the rest, telling them where the hearth was but Blake ignored the incoming order to wait for them. The hearth was unguarded. A chance like this might not come again.

He pulled out the box he had hidden in his bag, hearing Ciaran whistle. "Is that wise?"

"I'm not sure wisdom will help us fight an archon," Blake said, pulling out the khadga from the box. He frowned when nothing happened. He felt nothing. Not even a small hint of the dark magic that should fill the steel. Maybe he needed to use it for it to activate? " Can you locate Nemain?"

Ciaran pulled out a small dagger, cutting his finger. He made a fist with the cut hand and whispered something inaudible into it. An array of small fireflies came out from his hand, floating around him for a while before moving into the glade. As they came closer to the hearth though, the fireflies one by one started to flicker before they finally faded into oblivion.

"The good news is that they didn't locate Nemain," Ciaran said.

"And the bad news?"

"The area is filled with amalgamation circles. They drain all magic that enters them."

"I see no circles," Blake said with a frown as he concentrated on the blackened area.

"They are most likely hidden underneath all the dead grass. It is a trap. I also fear that there might be some siphoning spells or shades around the area who will drain the life of anyone who gets close," Ciaran said. "Jaxon won't be able to get close to that, anax or not."

"But I can," Blake mumbled.

"What?"

"I can see the shades and avoid them. They seemed fixed in one area like they cannot move."

"They are summoning circles. Some shades have the ability to drain life, trying to revive themselves. These can be summoned and bound in one area. A good, if not nasty, security system," Ciaran explained. "There are still the amalgamation circles."

"Well, people tell me that I have a lot of magic. Enough that I have never been fatigued by the lack of it. Let's see if it can get me to the hearth," Blake said with a grim expression, he turned toward the hearth but Ciaran pulled him back.

"This is insanity. Let's wait for the others."

"They are here any minute now and Nemain might arrive before them. It will take time walking around the shades and we lack time," Blake reminded him, pulling himself free. He walked slowly towards the hearth. Avoiding every dark hand reaching for him and slowly but surely closing in.