magic, the spinning cylinder actually worked to her advantage. The fast motion helped spread her magic like a wildfire. She immediately turned her attention to the tentacles. Time was running out for her. The moment the last of the strands for the wind had been consumed, Vasile would know. There was no getting around that. She had to work much faster in spite of the fact that her focus, her entire concentration had to be complete.
Below her, the fight was on between Isai and Vasile. Isai didn’t do anything by half measures. She could see great fireballs slamming into the rock all around the Carpathian. At the same time, Isai was keeping Vasile’s focus on him by sending shock waves through the rock surface where the mage had secreted himself. The earth shook and pitched. Small rocks fell like rain, forcing Vasile to protect himself.
Julija began on the third weave, picking it apart, searching for an entry point so her magic could devour his. She had to study the layers of magic to figure out the pattern he had used. These strands were lumpy. Flappy. Each time she thought she had the right construction, the strand would heave upward and then flop downward, changing the angle and giving her a different view. She realized she would have to be patient until the long tubes would show every angle before she started unraveling them.
Each second felt like a million years. Sweat trickled down her body. Her legs shook. Her vison blurred. She closed her eyes against the physical discomfort and visualized the floppy strands. When she was positive she understood the complicated weave, she began to reverse it, using her hands to gracefully pull each thread and filament free of the thick, lumpy strands until she had a bundle of ends.
Did she have them all? She let her breath out slowly. She had to believe in herself. Second-guessing led to mistakes and she couldn’t afford any in this battle. She sent her magic, delicately touching the black art. At first, there was a small puff of smoke and her breath caught in her throat. Then the colors consumed the smoke and began to wind through the strange, lumpy configuration.
Julija gave herself a moment to breathe before she turned her attention to the birds. This was his beginning spell. The origin. Most wielders of magic understood that they put their power into that first strand. Each person had an aura. Energy. Their power rose from within. Some thought if they gave up their souls—like the vampire—they received more supremacy in exchange. Others—some mages such as Xavier—believed stealing others’ souls as well as binding their souls—or their power—to hell gave them more. To weave layers of magic, that first strand contained the essence of the wielder. She needed to get to that.
The spell appeared simple. It usually was when one worked with actual creatures to create an illusion that took on a life of its own. Julija wasn’t deceived. When binding creatures to one, there was usually an exchange of power. Vasile wouldn’t give up anything of himself to another living being. He stole souls. He stole bodies. He was ruthless, merciless and vicious.
She studied the seemingly innocent layers. Somewhere inside those neatly laid filaments and thicker threads, all twisting together looking much like thick braids, lay the true start of Vasile’s dark spell. She was grateful to Isai that he didn’t try to rush her. Even with his experience, removing an entrenched mage from his chosen fortress was nearly impossible—not without bringing down his magic first.
She noticed a tiny little bump on the underside of the darker strands. It was cleverly woven in, but once she’d spotted it, it was impossible to conceal. Each time her light shone on it, the little bulge slid away, trying to hide itself among the thicker strands making up the weave. She refused to let it elude her.
Isai, I’m so close. Make certain he’s wholly occupied with you. He can’t feel me invading.
She was so close. Her heart beat so hard and fast she feared Vasile might hear.
Count down to zero from five.
She did so, not looking down to see what her lifemate might be planning. She didn’t dare. This was it. Either she did this correctly or Vasile could take her magic, steal her power from her. Her soul.
Using the greatest care, the lightest of touches, Julija plucked at that little lump. The strands refused to move at first, clinging together as if they’d been