A Conjuring of Light

A Conjuring of Light Plot Summary

Introduction

# Shadows and Silver: The Last Stand of the Antari The shadow king rises from London's crimson river like smoke given flesh, his voice carrying the weight of ancient hunger. Prince Rhy Maresh lies dying on marble floors, his blood pooling beneath wounds that mirror those of his adopted brother Kell—the last Antari of Red London, bound by desperate magic that makes their fates inseparable. But death would be a mercy compared to what comes next. Osaron has awakened. A creature of pure magic with the memories of a god, he seeks vessels worthy of his essence—the Antari, those rare magicians marked by one black eye who can walk between worlds. As London's streets fill with possessed citizens and shadows creep through palace halls, three unlikely allies must unite against an enemy that feeds on the very power they wield. The city's salvation lies not in strength alone, but in sacrifice, and the bonds that tie magic to will, brother to brother, and soul to soul across the dying light of worlds.

Chapter 1: The Shadow King's Dominion: London Falls to Darkness

The tournament's victory celebration becomes a massacre in the space between heartbeats. Kell watches in horror as the figure materializes at the marble dance floor's edge—tall, pale, wearing Holland's familiar face but housing something infinitely older and hungrier behind those green eyes. The creature spreads his arms like a king greeting his subjects, and when he speaks, his voice resonates in two tones: silk and funeral bells. "Good evening. I am your new king." Kisimyr Vasrin, champion of a dozen tournaments, steps forward with ice crystallizing around her fingers. Her spear whistles through the night air, but the marble beneath her feet turns liquid, then solid again, trapping her legs like a fly in amber. The stranger—Osaron, the shadow king—walks toward her with leisurely steps. When his fingers brush her wrist, she begins to scream. Her body cracks like pottery in a kiln, light bleeding from the fissures until she crumbles to ash. King Maxim and his guards strike with desperate fury, but darkness pours from Holland's stolen form like smoke from a fire. The shadow moves with purpose, testing each potential vessel before flowing past Kell's bloodstained hands toward easier prey. Instead of possessing another host, the darkness gathers itself into a figure of living shadow crowned with spires of smoke. "It has been a long time since I was strong enough to hold my own shape," Osaron muses, admiring his true form. He stands at the roof's edge, arms spread wide, smiling with the face of nightmare itself. "Do not worry. I will teach you how to worship me." He falls backward into the night, his body striking the crimson river far below. Where he touches the water, darkness blooms like spilled ink, spreading until the entire Thames runs black as pitch. The infection begins immediately—tendrils of shadow creeping onto the banks, flowing through London's streets like living fog. Those who breathe it fall within moments, their eyes clouding with darkness, their voices joining a terrible chorus that echoes through the dying light: "The king has come."

Chapter 2: Three Antari Unite: Forging Bonds Across Broken Worlds

The Ghost cuts through grey waters under a star-drunk sky, carrying its unlikely crew toward salvation or damnation. Kell stands at the bow, his red coat billowing in the salt wind, watching the horizon for signs of the floating market that exists only in whispered legends. Behind him, Lila Bard practices her knife work with deadly precision, each blade finding its mark in the ship's mast while her mismatched eyes—one brown, one shattered glass—never leave their target. Holland remains a cipher in the ship's hold, his wrists bound in spelled iron that dampens but cannot entirely suppress his magic. The former king of White London knows Osaron's nature better than anyone, having felt the shadow king's touch in his mind during their first encounter. He speaks little, but when he does, his words carry the weight of hard-won wisdom and bitter experience. Captain Jasta navigates the treacherous waters with practiced ease, her massive frame moving with surprising grace as she works the rigging. Half her crew lies dead because of the shadow that has fallen over London, and she blames the Antari for bringing this curse upon them all. Her dark eyes hold no warmth for her passengers, only the cold calculation of a woman who has learned to survive in a world that offers no mercy to the weak. The revelation comes during a moment of shared exhaustion, when Kell's blood magic fails to heal a wound that should have closed instantly. Lila notices first—the way his power flickers and dims, the silver threading through his copper hair like premature age. The binding spell that saved Prince Rhy's life has created an unexpected side effect: Kell's magic is slowly draining away, flowing through their shared connection to sustain his brother's damaged body. Holland's solution is as elegant as it is dangerous. The Antari binding rings he describes are artifacts of immense power, capable of linking their magic in ways that defy natural law. Three Antari bound as one, their combined strength flowing through silver bands that can split and multiply like living things. It is their only hope against a creature that has fed on an entire city's magical essence, but the price of such unity is vulnerability—their fates will be intertwined, their thoughts and emotions bleeding through the connection like water through cracked stone.

Chapter 3: The Floating Market's Price: Trading Years for Power

The Ferase Stras appears at dawn like a fever dream made manifest—a collection of ships bound together by rope and magic, swaying on the waves like a drunken city. Maris rules this floating kingdom from a cabin that defies the laws of space and reason, her sand-colored eyes missing nothing as she examines the tokens her visitors have brought. The ancient woman deals in more than gold or jewels; she trades in years and memories, in secrets and souls. Kell offers a coin from Grey London, worn smooth by a mad king's touch. The price is three years of his life, drawn away by a sphere that hums with forbidden magic. He feels the weight of those lost years settle on his shoulders like a cloak, aging him in ways that go beyond mere flesh. But the binding rings he receives pulse with Antari magic, their silver surfaces singing with power that calls to his blood. Alucard Emery's bargain proves more complex, trading four years for a mirror that can show the past as it truly happened, not as memory chooses to remember it. The privateer's face grows gaunt as the years are stripped away, but his sapphire eyes remain fixed on his prize. Some truths are worth any price, even when that price is carved from one's own life. Lila's negotiation is the most dangerous of all. She wants the Inheritor itself—the device that can trap Osaron's essence and end his threat forever. The price is her broken eye, the shattered glass orb that has marked her as different since childhood. In its place, Maris offers something far more valuable: a sphere of perfect black that will mark her as Antari to any who look upon her. The transformation is immediate and startling. Where once Lila had been merely dangerous, now she becomes something more—a predator marked by the same darkness that flows through Kell and Holland's veins. The black eye suits her in ways that go beyond mere appearance, as if she has finally found the face she was always meant to wear. But the Inheritor hangs heavy in her hands, its cylindrical surface etched with words in the old tongue: Rosin and Cason. Give and Take.

Chapter 4: Silver Rings and Shared Magic: Binding Fractured Souls

The binding comes by accident, as the most dangerous discoveries often do. When Lila slips one of the silver rings onto her finger, the connection blazes to life like lightning in a clear sky. Power flows between her and Kell in torrents, raw and overwhelming, her inexperience turning the stolen strength into a weapon of terrible beauty. Fire blooms around her hands, growing larger and more dangerous with each passing second, threatening to consume the ship and everyone aboard. Holland's intervention saves them all. The pale Antari dons the third ring and draws Lila's stolen power into himself, his greater control allowing him to contain and redirect the magical overflow. The three-way connection stabilizes, creating a triangle of shared strength that is greater than the sum of its parts. But with that power comes vulnerability—they are bound now, their fates intertwined by silver and spell. Through the connection, they feel echoes of Holland's buried memories—glimpses of a pain so profound it has reshaped his very essence. They see him as he truly was: not a monster, but a man broken by circumstances beyond his control, forged into something harder and colder by necessity and survival. The curse that Athos and Astrid Dane branded into his chest was more than mere slavery—it was a violation of everything that made him human. The binding rings offer Holland something he has never possessed: true partnership rather than domination or submission. For the first time in years, his power is his own to give rather than something stolen or commanded. It is a gift more precious than gold, more valuable than life itself. He will not waste it on sentiment or hesitation when the time comes to face Osaron. As London's lights appear on the horizon, the three Antari stand united by more than magic. They have shared pain and power, memories and hope. The shadow king has taken enough from them already—their cities, their people, their peace. Now they carry the tools of his destruction, forged in desperation and tempered by sacrifice. The final battle awaits, and they will meet it as one weapon with three edges, bound by silver and sealed with blood.

Chapter 5: Into the Shadow Palace: Confronting Ancient Evil

The shadow palace looms over the Thames like a nightmare carved from obsidian, its impossible architecture defying natural law. Kell, Lila, and Holland approach the twisted spires with silver rings singing on their fingers, the binding magic linking their power into something greater than the sum of its parts. The Inheritor hangs around Holland's neck, its weight both promise and burden as they step through doors that open onto darkness itself. Inside, they find Prince Rhy suspended in a cage of ice, dozens of frozen spikes piercing his flesh while his blood pools beneath him. The prince cannot die—Kell's spell prevents that—but he can suffer endlessly. Each wound closes only to be torn open again, a cycle of agony that feeds Osaron's cruel hunger. His golden eyes meet Kell's through the crystalline prison, and in them burns a flame that no amount of pain can extinguish. The demon has found a new shell: Ojka, Holland's former knight, her corpse animated by shadow and malice. The red-haired woman moves with deadly grace, twin swords materializing in her hands as she faces the three Antari. Her throat bears the wound that killed her, wrapped now in ribbons of darkness that serve as both bandage and collar. When she speaks, Osaron's voice pours from her lips like honey mixed with poison. "Welcome to my palace," the shadow king purrs through his stolen mouth. "I have been waiting for you. Three Antari, bound by silver and desperation. Do you know what you could become if you simply let me in? Gods among mortals, shapers of reality itself. All I ask is that you kneel." The battle erupts in a symphony of violence. Lila's knives flash through the air while Kell's ice and fire clash against Osaron's shadows. Holland wields his magic like a scythe, each strike aimed at the puppet strings that bind his former ally's corpse. The binding rings sing with shared power, allowing them to fight as one weapon with three edges, their combined might flowing through silver bands that pulse with captured starlight. But Osaron has fed on an entire city's magic, and his strength seems limitless. He toys with them, breaking bones and tearing flesh while savoring their pain. The shadow king offers each of them power beyond imagining if they will only yield, but they refuse. They have seen what his gifts cost, and the price is always too high.

Chapter 6: Holland's Final Gambit: The Inheritor's Terrible Purpose

The tide turns when Lila summons the Thames itself, pulling the river through the palace roof in a crushing wave that would drown gods and mortals alike. The water slams Ojka's possessed body into the stone floor with bone-breaking force, but Osaron simply reforms, his stolen shell knitting back together through sheer will. The shadow king laughs at their efforts, his voice echoing from every surface as he prepares to end their defiance once and for all. Holland knows what must be done. As Osaron gloats over his seemingly endless power, the former king of White London draws the Inheritor from his coat. The device gleams in his pale hands, its surface reflecting the chaos around them like a dark mirror. He has carried this burden across oceans and through nightmares, and now the moment of its purpose has finally arrived. "You want a vessel worthy of your essence," Holland says, his voice cutting through the demon's laughter like a blade through silk. "Then take me. I offer myself freely, without reservation or resistance. Claim what you have always desired." Osaron's eyes widen with hunger and surprise. The shadow king has dreamed of this moment—a willing Antari, one strong enough to contain his power without burning away to ash. He pours himself into Holland's body like wine into a cup, his essence flooding through every cell and fiber. For a heartbeat, triumph blazes in his stolen features. Then Holland drives the Inheritor's point through his own palm. The ancient words spill from his lips as his blood flows into the device: "Rosin"—Give. The artifact flares with silver light as it drinks deeply of the magic flooding through him, but it is not Holland's power it seeks. It is Osaron's essence, drawn through the willing vessel and into a prison that has waited centuries for this moment. The shadow king realizes his mistake as the Inheritor's true purpose becomes clear. It is not just a prison—it is a drain, designed to siphon power from its victims until nothing remains. Osaron fights to escape, but Holland holds him fast, pouring every ounce of his will into keeping the demon trapped. His hair turns white as snow, his magic bleeding away into the hungry device, but his grip never wavers. The palace explodes into light as Holland's sacrifice reaches its crescendo. When the radiance fades, he collapses to the stone floor, the Inheritor dark and heavy in his hands. Inside its crystalline depths, something writhes and rages, but it cannot escape. The shadow king is bound at last, trapped by the very vessel he sought to claim.

Chapter 7: Dawn After Darkness: Rebuilding from Ashes and Hope

London wakes slowly from its nightmare as the shadow palace crumbles back into the bones of the tournament arenas, its impossible architecture revealed as nothing more than Osaron's fevered dream. The Thames runs red again instead of black, and the cursed fog that choked the city begins to lift like a curtain drawn back from the world. In the streets, the possessed citizens collapse into natural sleep, their minds finally free from the demon's influence. King Rhy Maresh stands in the ruins, his body whole but his spirit scarred by the ordeal. The ice that held him has melted, leaving only the memory of pain and the knowledge that he faced death and found it wanting. His parents lie dead in the Rose Hall, their sacrifice buying precious time in the city's darkest hour. The crown sits heavy on his brow, but he wears it with dignity born of suffering. Holland's body is carried from the wreckage, his face peaceful in a way it never was in life. The Inheritor remains clutched in his hands, its surface now black as the void between stars. The device pulses faintly with trapped malice, but the prison holds. Osaron is contained, his threat ended by the very man he once enslaved. In death, Holland has found the redemption that eluded him in life. Kell recovers slowly from the binding ring's toll, his magic forever changed by the ordeal. A streak of silver now mars his copper hair, and every spell costs him more than it should. But he is alive, and Rhy is alive, and sometimes that is enough. The brothers embrace in the ruins of their enemy's palace, their bond stronger than ever despite the scars it bears. Lila stands at the harbor where the Night Spire waits, her black eye gleaming like a star in the darkness. The ship's midnight-blue sails fill with wind and promise as she claims both vessel and crew as her own. The thief has become a pirate, and the pirate dreams of becoming a legend. She offers Kell passage to whatever horizon calls to him, but the choice is his to make. In White London's Silver Wood, something miraculous begins to happen. The trees that have stood bare and lifeless for generations start to show the first hints of green. Holland's sacrifice echoes across the worlds, his power seeping into the barren earth like water into a dry riverbed. The king who could not save his people in life has given them a future in death.

Summary

The shadow king is defeated, but victory comes at a price measured in blood and years and lives cut short. Holland's sacrifice echoes across three Londons, his death buying freedom for countless souls who will never know his name. The Inheritor sits locked away in the palace vaults, its prisoner raging silently against bonds that will not break. London rebuilds itself stone by stone, its people carrying silver scars that mark them as survivors of a war against darkness itself. Rhy wears his father's crown with wisdom earned through suffering, while Kell sails toward horizons that promise new adventures and old mysteries. Lila commands her ship with the confidence of someone who has stolen fire from gods and lived to tell the tale. They are bound together by more than magic now—by shared pain and mutual trust, by the knowledge that some prices are worth paying and some sacrifices echo through eternity. The threads that connect them stretch across worlds and years, invisible but unbreakable, a web of love and loss that holds the universe together against the darkness that always waits beyond the light.

About Author

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Victoria Schwab

Schwab interrogates the intersection of identity and the supernatural, crafting narratives that blur the lines between reality and fantasy. Her purpose lies in exploring the human experience through fantastical elements, as seen in her acclaimed works like the Shades universe and The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue. By situating her characters in extraordinary circumstances, Schwab investigates the depth of human resilience and the quest for belonging. These themes recur across her books, providing readers with a lens to reflect on their own realities.\n\nEmploying a method that combines lush world-building with nuanced character development, Schwab’s writing resonates with readers seeking immersive experiences. Her books often feature morally complex characters and intricate plots, which encourage readers to question their own perceptions of right and wrong. The Villains series, for instance, challenges traditional notions of heroism and villainy, prompting readers to reconsider the boundaries between good and evil. Moreover, her focus on character-driven stories allows for a deeper emotional engagement, making her narratives both thought-provoking and accessible.\n\nReaders benefit from Schwab's work as it offers a unique blend of escapism and introspection. Her ability to weave intricate tales that touch on universal themes ensures that her audience is both entertained and challenged. For fans of fantasy and those interested in the exploration of complex themes, Schwab’s books provide a rich tapestry of ideas and emotions. Whether through the haunting streets of Paris or the mystical realms of her imagination, Schwab invites readers into worlds where the impossible feels palpably real, making her a pivotal figure in contemporary literature. This short bio captures her essence as a storyteller whose works transcend traditional genre boundaries, engaging readers in meaningful contemplation.

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