Chapter 20: The Final Toll

The air was thick with the crackle of dark magic, its weight pressing down on the shattered stone floor of the corridor. Dorian Selwyn knelt, gasping, his body trembling with exhaustion and the remnants of the uncontrollable power that had torn through him moments before. Every breath burned in his chest, and his vision swam in and out of focus as he fought to stay conscious. The dark magic still hummed within him, though its strength had waned, leaving him weakened, vulnerable.

Before him stood Thorne Yaxley, his pale face impassive, eyes gleaming with cold calculation. Ingrid Ravnsborg stood several feet away, her wand clenched tightly in her hand, her body tense and poised, but her face was shadowed with uncertainty.

"I warned you, Selwyn," Yaxley said, his voice calm, but laced with a quiet menace. "This magic is more than you can handle. And now, it's eating you alive."

Dorian's eyes burned with fury as he struggled to rise, his legs shaking beneath him. He could feel the dark power stirring again, but it was no longer something he could control. It was wild, feral, and though he had bound it to himself, it had turned against him, demanding more, always more.

"I don't need your warnings," Dorian spat, his voice hoarse. "I'll master this. I'll master it all."

Yaxley's smile was cold. "You're already past the point of mastering anything, Selwyn. You've become a vessel for the magic—nothing more. You can't control it anymore. It controls you."

Dorian's rage flared at the words, and the dark energy surged within him once more, flaring around his body in a violent, crackling aura. He raised his wand, eyes blazing with raw fury. He wasn't going to let Yaxley stand there and mock him, not when he had come so far.

But before he could unleash the magic, Yaxley raised his hand.

"Enough of this," Yaxley said, his tone cold and final. He snapped his fingers, and the air around him shimmered with dark energy. Dorian felt a sudden, sharp pull in his chest, like something had just been ripped from him. The dark power that had surged through him faltered, then vanished entirely, leaving him gasping, his body collapsing back to the floor.

The sudden loss of the magic was like a shock to his system. His vision blurred as he struggled to understand what had happened, but the realization hit him like a blow. Yaxley had taken control of the magic. The dark power that had fueled him, that had given him the strength to rise above everyone else, had been stolen.

"You—" Dorian began, his voice trembling with rage, but his body was too weak to rise. The magic had been keeping him standing, keeping him fighting, and now that it was gone, he felt hollow, empty.

Yaxley stepped forward, his wand glowing faintly. "You're not the only one who understands how to bind magic, Selwyn. But you… you were sloppy. You took too much, too fast. You were greedy, and now look at you—broken and powerless."

Dorian's vision darkened, the weight of Yaxley's words crushing him. The magic… it had been everything. Without it, he was nothing. Just another wizard, just another ambitious fool who had dared to touch something far beyond his reach.

Ingrid, who had been silent until now, finally stepped forward, her eyes burning with determination. "This ends now, Yaxley," she said, her voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of anger. "Whatever game you've been playing with Dorian, it stops here."

Yaxley's eyes flicked to Ingrid, his expression barely changing. "And what will you do, Ravnsborg? You think you can stop me? You couldn't even stop Selwyn."

Ingrid's wand moved in a blur, and a jet of white-hot energy shot toward Yaxley with deadly precision. But Yaxley was faster. He flicked his wand, and a barrier of shimmering black energy materialized in front of him, absorbing the spell without so much as a ripple.

"Predictable," Yaxley said calmly, stepping closer to Ingrid. "You've always been so… noble. So righteous."

Ingrid's jaw clenched, and she lashed out again, her wand moving in a series of rapid, intricate movements. Spells flew from her wand in quick succession—blasts of energy, shimmering chains of light, and a whirlwind of cutting curses. Each one was designed to disarm, to incapacitate, to destroy.

But Yaxley deflected them all with casual flicks of his wand, his movements precise and controlled. The air around him seemed to shimmer with an aura of impenetrable darkness, each of Ingrid's spells dissolving before they could even touch him.

"You're wasting your time, Ravnsborg," Yaxley said, his voice almost bored. "You're no match for this."

With a flick of his wrist, Yaxley sent a bolt of dark magic hurtling toward Ingrid. She barely had time to react, throwing up a shield that cracked under the force of the spell. The impact knocked her back, her feet skidding across the floor as she struggled to stay upright.

"Ingrid!" Dorian's voice was weak, barely a whisper, but the sight of her in danger sent a surge of anger through him. He tried to push himself up again, but his body refused to obey. The magic had left him drained, a shell of the force he had once been.

Yaxley, sensing Ingrid's faltering strength, pressed his advantage. Another blast of dark energy erupted from his wand, this one more powerful, more precise. Ingrid threw up another shield, but this time, it shattered under the force of the attack. The spell slammed into her chest, sending her crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.

She collapsed to the floor, her wand slipping from her hand, her body motionless.

"Ingrid!" Dorian's voice cracked with desperation as he crawled toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. He could barely see through the haze of pain and exhaustion, but he had to reach her. He had to—

But Yaxley was already standing over her, his expression calm, indifferent. He looked down at Ingrid's unconscious form, his wand still glowing with dark magic.

"I told you," Yaxley said quietly. "She was no match."

Dorian's hands trembled as he reached for his wand, but his body was failing him. His vision swam, and the darkness that had been whispering to him for so long now felt distant, unreachable.

Yaxley turned his gaze to Dorian, his expression cold. "And now, Selwyn… it's your turn."

Dorian's heart raced as Yaxley raised his wand, the dark energy building once more. He could feel it—his own magic, the power he had once wielded, now twisted and controlled by Yaxley. It surged around him, filling the air with a sense of impending doom.

But before Yaxley could strike, a soft sound echoed through the corridor—the faintest whisper of a spell.

Dorian's eyes widened as he saw Ingrid's hand move, her fingers twitching toward her fallen wand.

No... not yet... Ingrid mouthed, her lips barely moving. Her voice was so faint, but Dorian could hear it, feel it, through the bond they had once shared. Her final spell, cast in a moment of desperation, was not one of attack or defense.

It was a transference spell.

Dorian felt a sudden rush of energy, a warmth that filled the hollow emptiness inside him. The dark magic that had been stolen from him surged back into his body, stronger, purer. But it wasn't just the magic he had lost—it was Ingrid's magic, too. Her power flowed into him, mingling with the darkness, strengthening him in ways he hadn't thought possible.

His body stopped shaking, his vision cleared, and his mind sharpened. The whispers returned, but this time they were no longer chaotic, no longer threatening to drown him. They were controlled, focused. Dorian stood slowly, the weight of the combined magic settling into him like an old, familiar cloak.

Yaxley's eyes narrowed as he sensed the shift in the air. "Impossible," he whispered, stepping back as Dorian rose to his full height, his eyes glowing with a cold, dark light.

Dorian's gaze was locked on Yaxley, his expression cold and deadly. "You should have left me alone, Yaxley," he said, his voice steady and calm. But beneath the calmness, there was a storm of power waiting to be unleashed.

Without warning, Dorian raised his wand, and the dark magic surged from him with terrifying force. It exploded outward in a torrent of energy, a wave of pure destruction aimed directly at Yaxley.

Yaxley barely had time to react. He threw up a shield, but it cracked under the sheer force of Dorian's attack. The dark energy slammed into Yaxley, sending him crashing into the far wall with a brutal impact that shook the entire corridor. He hit the ground hard, his wand slipping from his hand as he gasped for breath.

Dorian didn't give him a chance to recover. With a flick of his wrist, he sent another bolt of dark magic toward Yaxley, this one faster, sharper. It cut through the air like a blade, aimed directly at Yaxley's heart.

But before the spell could reach him, Yaxley vanished, disappearing into the shadows with a sharp crack of disapparition. The spell slammed into the wall behind him, shattering the stone, but Yaxley was gone.

The corridor fell silent, the echoes of the battle fading into the distance.

Dorian stood in the middle of the destruction, his body still thrumming with the combined power of his and Ingrid's magic. His chest heaved with the effort of controlling the surge of energy, but he remained standing, his mind clear, his will unbroken.

He turned slowly, his gaze falling on Ingrid's motionless body. The rush of victory faded, replaced by a cold, sinking dread.

"Ingrid..."

Dorian dropped to his knees beside her, his heart pounding in his chest. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow. He reached out, his hand trembling as he touched her shoulder, but there was no response. Her magic—what was left of it—was barely there, a faint flicker in the void.

She had given everything. She had given him everything.

Dorian closed his eyes, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a crushing tide. He could feel the magic swirling within him, Ingrid's power and his own mingling together, stronger than ever before. But it didn't feel like a victory.

It felt like a loss.

A cold, bitter loss.

The darkness inside him was quiet now, subdued, as though it had finally been sated. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Dorian looked down at Ingrid, his expression hardening. He had won, but at what cost? The power was his, but the price... the price was too high.

"I will make this right," Dorian whispered, his voice low and filled with a quiet, dangerous resolve. "I will make them all pay."

And as the shadows closed in around him, Dorian Selwyn stood alone, the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the full might of the dark magic coursing through his veins.

But there was no one left to stop him now.

{{ End of Volume 1: The Forgotten Heir }}