Starfell Willow Moss and the Lost Day (Starfell #1) - Dominique Valente Page 0,52
still unconscious.
‘Wait,’ said Willow, her mind working fast. ‘He’s a forgotten teller – one who sees the past – and he saw that a boy – Silas – used a spell that stole last Tuesday, a spell that could end up destroying the world if we don’t fix it. You have to help us, please.’
The High Master scoffed. ‘What nonsense. Silas seize power? Magic here, in Wolkana? We have tried for centuries to rid Starfell of this filth, this evil from the world. We would never allow it here … never.’
It was just a second but Willow saw the anger on the young Brother Silas’s face. ‘No, that’s true. You wouldn’t,’ he sneered.
The High Master looked at him with a frown.
From Nolin Sometimes’s prone form they heard him mutter. ‘The Lost Spells of Starfell were kept out of sight for a thousand years in a gilded box, hidden in the fortress, until the boy named Silas found them and sought to use them for himself … ’
The High Master turned ashen. He seemed to stagger slightly. His mouth fell open and he looked at Silas, blinking. ‘I-it can’t be true? What they are saying … You wouldn’t have … you couldn’t have found them, and actually used them?’ His hand was on his heart. Willow could tell that he was finding it hard to breathe.
Silas scowled. He looked at Willow and Nolin Sometimes, who had passed out again, with something close to a mix of frustration and amusement. ‘You just had to bring a forgotten teller along.’
Willow frowned. ‘What?’
He sighed. ‘I had hoped for a bit more time … or at least preferable surroundings,’ he said, eyeing the dungeon in some distaste. A few of the other Brothers shared a knowing sort of smile with him.
Willow felt something inside her turn cold as he continued.
Silas looked at the High Master, his mouth turning up into a thin, humourless smile. ‘There is no need for this pretence any more, High Master. I fear the secret is out, don’t you? The truth always comes out in the end … no matter what lengths one goes to.’ He reached inside his robes and withdrew a small box.
The High Master’s face blanched as he saw what was in Silas’s hands. ‘W-what secret? Silas, think of what you are saying … and who you are speaking to,’ he said, shooting a meaningful look at Willow and her friends, his eyes then straying back to the box. ‘You don’t want them to leave here with the wrong impression. We can’t have them thinking that magic would ever be permitted in Wolkana—’
‘ENOUGH!’ thundered Silas. He didn’t look nearly as frightened or as young as he had when they’d seen him in Beady Hill. In fact, he didn’t even look all that young any more. His spots were gone, and his face was lean and hard, like the expression in his eyes.
Willow blinked. It was as if he’d used magic until now to make himself appear less powerful. But how could that be?
His voice was cold. ‘LIES. All of them, and I grow weary of each one. Seize him,’ he ordered, and three of the Brothers stepped forward to take the High Master away.
‘Silas? What is this – a rebellion?’ His voice cracked. ‘So it’s all true – what they said? Silas, my boy, my child, why?’
‘Now he claims me,’ said Silas, gritting his teeth. ‘Wol help me. But it is too late for that, Father, much, much too late, I’m afraid. Perhaps if you’d thought, just once, to let go of your reputation, to accept me as your son and heir … perhaps things would have worked out differently. But you are weak and that is something that we can no longer afford to have in a leader.’
Willow frowned. The High Master was Silas’s father?
The High Master blinked. ‘I-I, Silas, I thought you understood – a man in my position, I couldn’t just come out publicly and say you were my son …’
Silas shook his head. ‘No, Father, you chose to keep it a secret because you were ashamed of who my mother was.’
‘I-I was afraid of what anyone would do if they found out … how it would seem. You must understand … It wasn’t because I didn’t care about you!’
‘Yes, how would it seem if they all discovered that the High Master had fallen in love with a witch and had a child with magic running through his veins?’