Crispen's breath was ragged, his magic waning. Blood dripped off his fingertips painting the blades of grass underneath in crimson, reminding him of the barren wastelands of the Refracted.

It was hard fighting someone who was essentially you.

Rayburn commanded the boy to protect Potter Oaks--to the boy's protest-- but the boy of crows was no match for a father. So he stood hidden behind a row of oak trees, his magic pressed upward, stretching out over the town, an umbrella of white fighting off Gideon's storm. Sweat dripped off his brow as he felt himself beginning to melt. He wished he still had a cigarette-- or three--on him.

Rayburn was well outside of Crispen's protection, taking Gideon head on. Blues and blacks were flung haphazardly into the sky, each sorcerer trying to gain the upper hand. On more than a few occasions, Gideon had succeeded in hurting Rayburn- tiny claw marks of proof ran up the man's tan arms, blood coloring the grass like Crispen's had.

The injuries were never anything substantial, though they could have been. Gideon was using his magic to toy with Rayburn, to punish the man that had kept Peneloper out of his reach.

Speaking of Nep, she had disappeared when Crispen had unleashed his first wave of magic and hadn't reappeared. Gideon was as surprised as they were when he emerged through the white with empty hands.

It hadn't been by Gideon's magic that she was gone, so then who? Very few in the layers could summon someone without their consent and most of that magical bunch was in this field, fighting and bleeding out.

"Watch out!"

An onslaught of black zigzagged toward Crispen. Unable to move without endangering the town, Crispen braced for impact. Behind him, an arrow of blue arched overhead and blew the black back, shattering the magic into tiny shards that fell to the ground.

They disappeared within seconds of landing, but not before killing whatever they came in contact with. Crispen now stood in the middle of a very dead field of grass and wild lavender.

Rayburn ran past Crispen, giving the boy a wink as he readied another attack. A bolt of black sizzled through the air, curving from behind to graze Rayburn's arm. It burned through the man's sleeve, scorching the skin. He grimaced and fell to his knees, propelling a burst of blue lightning forward, aimed at Gideon's head. The boy flashed them a smile and held out his hand, the tiny mouth appearing and absorbing the magic.

"This is going better than I'd expected," Rayburn said as he got up. He turned toward the sky and threw up his good arm bringing hundreds of symbols for platinum into existence. Their brilliance illuminated the sky better than a million stars, softly pulsing blue light.

As Rayburn started to ignite his magic, Gideon snapped his fingers. The void on the boy's shoulders  shuddered and rushed upward, blanketing the sky and snuffing out Rayburn's magic.

"You can't keep this up, old man. I'm too powerful for you. And too evenly matched with my other half. This will only end when someone's dead and you have to know it won't be me."

Rayburn took a hand and wiped the mud and sweat from his face. "You and I both know death isn't permanent. If I died, I would find a way back. I have too much to lose."

"And I have nothing," Gideon said, a swell of black encircling him. Rayburn gathered his magic to his fingertips, tiny sparks falling to the ground, catching the stragglers of still living grass on fire.

"I've waited so very, very long for this," Gideon said, barreling toward Rayburn, his lips pulled back, black gunk oozing from the corners of his mouth. Rayburn placed his hands in front of him, coaxing a wall of magic to grow up from the ground.

The two clashed, the blowback from their magic so strong it knocked Crispen on the ground, crumbling the protective umbrella he had erected over Potter Oaks. A cloud of ash and dead leaves rose up around him, stealing his breath. When it settled, he saw something that should have been  impossible.

Claws were wrapped around Rayburn's throat, the man lifted a few feet off the ground. Where Gideon should have been, was a creature of the darkness. He wore a long coat of black feathers, shellacked back, a sheen to them that almost blinded Crispen.

Around the creature's trunk-like neck, were chains of silver, bleached bird skulls the size of Crispen's hand hanging off each one. The skulls whispered among themselves in a foreign tongue, hollowed eyes scanning their surroundings; these were birds who would keep their secrets hidden from him. A crown made of hollow bones sat atop its head.

No. Impossible. It couldn't be--

"So you've heard of me?" the creature asked, craning its head around to meet Crispen's gaze. "It pleases me to know whispers of my name still find ears willing to listen. More people should be like you. More people should fear me."

The creature turned back to look at Rayburn. "You're so squishy. Are all sorcerers born of this century so weak?"

Gasping for breath, Rayburn stuttered, "Who--"

"Am I?" the creature finished. "How disappointing. The abomination knows of me and yet you, thief, know nothing."

The creature took its free hand and ran it through the crop of feathers that decorated its skull. "What was it they called me..."

"King of Crows," Crispen spoke up, fear freezing him in place.

The creature had been right; Crispen had heard the whispered tales. Stories of a creature said to be one of the original four, the giver of magic, and one of the layers' creators. But that would mean--

"Yes. I broke. And when I did, so too, did the layers. Then he decided to banish me and gave my seat to this unworthy owl." The creature tightened its hold on Rayburn. The man's vision grew blurry, the world beginning to spin.

"The Council that you serve is incomplete without me," the creature hissed. "I created Reason. It was my Rapture. I will have what is rightfully mine."

The creature released Rayburn and threw him across the field. He landed hard against a tree snapping its trunk. In a blink, the King of Crows appeared beside him pressing a boot heel into his chest. "Know this, young Auttsley," it began, giving Rayburn a swift kick in the gut, "I will take everything from you. I will reclaim my seat, I will turn your bloodline into ash, and you will suffer far beyond what you thought imaginable. For you, I will create a greater punishment than death."

A burst of magic--clear, pure, and full of limitless possibilities--hit Rayburn, suffocating the man from the inside out. He felt his heart constrict, his brain being pulled apart, the air knocked from from his lungs. His blood boiled, his veins bursting from the heat. Rayburn would have screamed had the creature's magic not muted his sound. The King of Crows cackled overhead, his bird skulls following suit.

As Rayburn struggled to remain conscious, he felt another surge of the creature's magic shoot through him. And beyond the pain it caused, Rayburn felt the magic's familiarity. Kelpner Finn wielded similiar blank page magic.

What exactly was this thing?

Amused, the creature got down on bended knee beside the writhing man. It broke off a branch from the fallen tree and twirled it above Rayburn's face.

"You know," it said, running the branch across Rayburn's cheek, the jagged edge piercing his flesh, leaving a trail of blood, "that daughter of yours was a far better conversationalist than you. I can see why Gideon was so obsessed. I look forward to meeting her in the flesh."

Rayburn squirmed. The colorless magic had him pinned down. If only he could free one finger, he'd be able to summon his magic, do something. This creature had spoken of Nep. He had to protect her no matter what.

The creature laughed. "You won't be able to protect her. You set her on this path and at its end, I will be waiting.  And I have many surprises in store for your precious Squirm when the inevitable occurs." The creature got up, brushed a few blades of grass off his coat of feathers and took a few steps away from Rayburn.

Turning toward the man, it flashed him a brilliant smile and then sent the branch flying threw the air and into Rayburn's gut. Rayburn was knocked back, the pain indescribable, blood pooling around him.

"Do live," it began, his form melting off, revealing Gideon underneath, unconscious, "I'd hate for you to die before your daughter arrives."

Gideon's body collapsed and landed beside Rayburn as the last of the creature disappeared. The man coughed, blood staining his face and neck, a trembling hand pressed against his stomach. His body started to grow weak, the desire to close his eyes and drift off to sleep, hard to resist.

No. Not here. Not like this.

Rain fell on Rayburn. It wasn't ferocious and it didn't hurt; Gideon's storm had been subdued now that he was unconscious. This was a warm rainfall, gentle, the kind the Zipkinn rolled toward the ground. It made him think of the tears his daughter would cry when he was dead.

"I'm a terrible father," he muttered, tears welling up in his eyes.

To his left, he caught a glimpse of something white. He turned his head slowly to see an angel cresting the hill. Her platinum hair trailed behind her, her clothes were muddied and soaked. Her face reminded him of a peach.

Rayburn had always liked peaches. Before he'd tried chocolate, he'd always thought that they had made for the best desserts.

"Dad! Dad!"

Ah. She's scared. I'm going to make her cry again.

"Dad!"

Nep, Squirm. Laura...Carmichelle. I'm so--

Rayburn closed his eyes, his body exhausted, his world growing dark. He let death take him, unconvinced he'd be able to fend it off a second time.