At last a crumbling stone building appeared at the bottom of an incline, a pocket of peaty bog pooling around the disintegrating stone walls. The Monastery.
The first night of the tournament generally ended in at least one slain champion. But the sky would’ve lightened had any one of them died, and their names would’ve been crossed off the pillars in the Landmarks. All seven of them had survived until morning. Which meant Gavin’s next step was simple: draw first blood. Prove himself as a force to be reckoned with.
As the Monastery was the closest Landmark to the Castle, he’d decided to start there.
He could tell immediately that it was occupied. The wards glimmered crimson around the high walls, signifying at least one champion inside. At this point, he didn’t care who they were. Between his damp shoes, his sweaty face, and his general fury about the state of his magick, he was more than ready to start a fight. It had been a painful, horrifying process to fill all his spellrings again using his own life force, but he’d done it. The pain had only made him vomit once.
Gavin stared at the Shrouded from Sight spellstone on his left hand. Before Reid had cursed him, the spell had merely behaved as basic camouflage; like a chameleon, his appearance would blend into his surroundings. At a higher class, it could even pass through some warding spells.
But when he cast the spell this time, it felt different.
His strange new magick shimmered around his hands, then swept over him, engulfing him in purple and green light. Gavin watched, astonished, as the tips of his trainers disappeared, then his fingertips, his torso, until he was entirely invisible, even to himself. He glanced down and grinned—if he squinted, he could just make out the barest outline of a shadow.
Shrouded from sight, indeed.
Gavin’s tattooed arm twinged with pain, but he ignored it. He paused at the edges of the Monastery’s overgrown garden. There would be wards surrounding the Landmark, even if he couldn’t see them. And he didn’t want to waste any magick finding them. He remembered what Isobel Macaslan had done outside the Castle, then reached down and picked up a pebble from the grass.
He threw it, and sure enough, it plunked against an unseen wall a few meters ahead, sending ripples of red light through the air.
Satisfied, he took a step forward—only for a crimson shock wave to tremble outward from his left foot. Another ward. He swore and jumped back, but he felt no lingering curse. Pain twinged through his arm and he realized his Shrouded from Sight spellring was refilling.
It hadn’t just shielded him from view. It had protected him from the wards.
He grinned and faced down the unseen wall before him. Then he treaded forward and cautiously pressed his hand against it. Specks of red magick flitted away from his touch, and his fingers passed through without resistance.
Gavin vaulted over the crumbling wall and found a door, sealed shut. No matter what had happened before, he doubted he could walk through solid stone.
Adding a spell on top of Shrouded from Sight was a risky move—the energy needed to cast two different enchantments at once required a balance Gavin had never quite mastered. But he was stronger now. He could handle this.
He raised his hands in the air and cast Shatter and Break on the stone door.
His arm twinged again as the spellring refilled. Gavin gritted his teeth and held on to the spell, sending waves of magick shimmering around the stone.
A moment later, the door exploded.
Boom!
The noise reverberated around the garden. The dust dispersed, revealing a gaping hole in the wall where the door had been.
What he’d done to the door hadn’t exactly been subtle. Which meant his element of surprise was officially gone.
And worse, he could see his shoes again. His concentration had broken, and the Shrouded from Sight spell had broken with it. He felt a familiar twinge in his arm, but he yanked the spellstone from his hand before it could refill. Gavin stuffed it in his pocket, swearing. He would need to conserve magick for the fight ahead.
He emerged into a courtyard at the center of the Monastery. Above him stretched a second-floor walkway, its windows made of brilliant stained glass, all the colors red-soaked by the light of the Blood Veil. The building was otherwise austerely decorated, its open spaces empty and echoing.
But more important than the courtyard were the two champions standing in the center of it, one raising a hand covered in curserings, the other drawing the largest sword Gavin had ever seen—and pointing it straight at his chest. Red light shone from the three spellstones set into its hilt. A Relic, already claimed.
Gavin’s stomach sank. He’d checked the pillar in the Castle before he’d left, but only to see if any champions’ names had been struck out. It hadn’t occurred to him to check the other side, too, that a Relic could’ve fallen so soon.