When fate and worlds collide

07 |Dark Origins

Trixa strode into the kitchen just then. One look at the table and her expression twisted.

“What in Gaia’s name is that abomination?”

“We found it on the outskirts of the property,” Blayde explained. “It was… unwell. Limping blindly through the brush.” He folded his arms, shifting subtly under Trixa’s attention as his nerves spiked. Daegon caught it—and resisted the urge to smirk.

Treyton stepped in smoothly. “We couldn’t locate most of the herbs you asked for, Trixa. Only marigold, yarrow, blood-root… and wolfsbane.” He handed her a small sack, sweet and bitter scents bleeding into the air. Trixa accepted it with a sigh and moved closer to the table. As she examined the creature, her mind closed tightly to the pack—clinical, focused, unreachable. Daegon waited, letting the silence stretch.

Eventually she straightened. One hand rested on her hip; the other rubbed absently at her bottom lip—a tell on her anxiety he knew well.

“Speak,” Daegon ordered calmly. “What’s your assessment?” Her pale eyes lifted to meet his. Fear scented the air, sharp and unmistakable.

“I believe Nerezza succeeded in doing exactly what she promised,” Trixa replied quietly. “Ending our world as we knew it.” The deltas exchanged uneasy looks. “But not in the way she intended.”

“Explain,” Daegon said. He didn’t want riddles or games, or theatrics. He needed truth, plain and simple.

“Since we woke, everything has been… wrong,” Trixa continued. “The smells. The herbs. The materials these clothes are made from. Even this creature.” She gestured to the body on the table. “We know there are countless dimensions—some similar to ours, others vastly different. I don’t think this animal is anything new. I think it’s simply just a badger. Or what passes for one… now.” Their gazes dropped to the twisted thing between them. Questions rippled through the pack link like disturbed water.

“I can still access my magic,” Trixa went on, pulling her hair over her shoulder and beginning to braid it with nervous precision. “But it feels wrong. Sluggish. Limited in ways I’ve never experienced. From what I can gather, Nerezza didn’t destroy our world,” she swallowed. “She merged it with another.” Daegon’s head snapped up. “One…without magic.”

No one spoke. No one moved. Even the air itself seemed to freeze—holding its breath beneath the weight of her words.

It was common knowledge that some dimensions existed without access to Aura at all—thin, quiet worlds where magic never stirred. What wasn’t common knowledge was any method of reaching them. Travel between dimensions was myth. Merging two? Blasphemy. If such a thing were even possible, the Fae would have buried it so deeply it would never see light again. They were the keepers on all information relating to the Aura Flow, hoarders of forbidden knowledge, and ruthless in its protection.

Daegon turned his gaze back to Trixa. “Have you ever heard of this being done before?” He already knew he didn’t want the answer. But survival demanded truth, not comfort, and he needed to understand as much as possible, as quickly as possible.

Trixa hesitated. “There were… rumors at the academy. About the ancient language being used for unspeakable things.” She exhaled slowly. “We were told all records of it had been lost or destroyed. Cleansed. Officially, it was claimed the knowledge simply vanished.” Daegon remained silent, his attention absolute. “The whispers said an Aura went mad with power,” she continued. “He believed our world could be perfected by siphoning others—draining entire dimensions and folding their essence into ours.” Her jaw tightened. “They said, he was Fae.”

That earned a low, dangerous stillness from Daegon. “Apparently, he almost succeeded,” Trixa went on. “In doing so, he tore a rift between our world and another.” Daegon had never heard of such an event—and that alone told him everything.

“Was he stopped?” he asked.

She nodded. “It took several of the most powerful Auras of the time to subdue him. Even more to deal with what remained.”

“Deal how?” Daegon pressed.

“They couldn’t kill him,” Trixa replied quietly. “So…they sealed him instead.” The word scraped against Daegon’s instincts.

“Sealed?”

She nodded again. “His spirit. His power. Bound into an object and hidden somewhere no one would ever find it.” Her gaze drifted back to the malformed creature on the table, unease bleeding through the link.

Daegon’s jaw tightened. “And what does this legend have to do with us? With the Dark Aura?” His patience thinned. The farmhouse was a liability—no vantage points, no defenses. Time was already against them.

“The whispers said his prison was banished to a world without magic,” Trixa answered, voice taut. “A place where he could never be freed.” Cold understanding slid into place, piece by brutal piece. “I learned many things at the academy,” she continued, braiding her hair tighter as if anchoring herself. “One lesson stood above all others—ask too many questions about things that should theoretically be ‘only rumours,’ your life becomes very… expendable.”

Daegon’s aura flared. “The Fae threatened you.”

“Not directly,” she replied quickly. “But after a meeting with the headmistress, it was made clear my curiosity was hazardous to my long-term health.” Her mouth curved without humor. “I stopped asking questions.”

Rage simmered beneath Daegon’s control. The Fae had always believed themselves above all other creatures—above consequence, above judgment. Of course the mad Aura had been one of them, trying to be closer to the gods that created them. And of course they had erased the truth to preserve their immaculate image.

“I believe,” Trixa explained carefully, “this world may be the one he was sealed into.” Silence followed.

“If you’re right,” Daegon said slowly, “it explains why we’re alive.” His gaze sharpened. “But, if all knowledge of the ancient language was destroyed—how did that witch use it?” Trixa lifted a shoulder. “If even the smallest rift remained, it might have allowed influence to leak through. Enough to whisper to those already hungry for power.” She flicked her braid back. “Honestly, without Nerezza telling me herself, I can’t be certain. Much was lost during the Cleansing a century ago. But it’s possible her coven hid fragments of that knowledge.” She met his eyes. “That may be why our world merged instead of being annihilated.”

It was a fragile theory. But it was the only one they had.

Daegon turned to Treyton. “Any signs of vampires?”

His beta shook his head. “None so far.”

“If our world was dragged here intact,” Daegon replied grimly, gesturing toward the twisted animal, “and we don’t look like…that—then the Dark Aura and her coven likely made the crossing too.” He opened the pack link, his presence flooding every mind at once.

‘Prepare to move. Immediately. Our priorities have changed. Secure a defensible base. Our home is potentially gone, and so is our knowledge of this land. That means we no longer hold the advantage. Collect anything useful—food, containers, weapons, clothing. Travel light but prepared.’ Daegon severed the link and strode toward the door.

The world had shifted beneath their feet. And he would not allow his pack to be swallowed by it.