“What do you mean?” I ask.
Her focus remains on Zeriel. “I mean, those suppressed too long cannot be suppressed forever.”
She doesn’t elaborate. Instead, she moves, smooth, unhurried, reaching for the small vial on the desk.
Zeriel’s gaze sharpens. “What is that?”
Selen’s fingers hover over the glass. “Something ancient. Something the empire has tried to erase.” She lifts it with care, and the golden liquid within shimmers as though stirred by some unseen current. I struggle to look away. The fluid shifts languidly despite her steady grip, its glow seeming to pulse faintly in the dim light. And now I notice that it’s threaded with faint shots of black.
“And something that forces a seed to bloom before its season,” Selen adds. “A fast-track, for a fast-track situation. Or a jump-start. Veilfire serum—containing two things no sane alchemist would dare combine: embervein essence, to help awaken… and charmed iron dust, to hide the trace.”
Before either of us can respond, Selen moves with startling speed. Her hand shoots out, catching Zeriel’s wrist in a grip far stronger than her frame suggests.
He reacts instantly, a jerk to free himself.
“What the hell—” he snaps.
Selen’s other hand flashes, one of the silver needles appearing as if from nowhere. She pricks his palm before he can stop her. A bead of blood blooms against his skin.
“Selen,” he warns, his tone dropping into something low and dangerous, a reminder no one puts a blade to him without his consent.
“Veyra,” Selen says, her voice suddenly heavy with command. “Your hand. Now.”
Zeriel’s eyes cut to me, sharp, questioning. I hesitate, butsomething in her eyes—urgency, certainty—compels me forward. I extend my hand, palm up.
Her second needle stings, and a ruby droplet forms in my hand.
“Selen—” Zeriel starts, but she’s uncorking the vial, light catching in the golden liquid.
“Quiet,” she says, not looking at him. “Both of you.”
She tilts the vial, allowing a single drop to fall onto my bleeding palm. The sensation is immediate and overwhelming: heat, then cold, then a strange, humming vibration that seems to resonate in my bones.
Before I can process what's happening, Selen grasps my wrist and presses my palm against Zeriel's. His instinct is to pull away, but the moment our blood mingles with the golden liquid, something shifts. I feel it like a current passing between us.
Zeriel feels it too. His eyes widen, his resistance faltering as the sensation builds. It's not painful, but it's intense, like standing at the edge of a lightning strike, the air thick and crackling, every nerve waiting for the spark to land.
Selen works quickly, wrapping the red cord around our joined hands. Three times around, each loop accompanied by words in a language I don't recognize. Ancient words, flowing like water, sharp as stone.
“What are you doing?” Zeriel demands, but his voice has lost its hard edge, replaced by something closer to wonder.
Selen doesn't answer. She completes the binding, tying the cord with a complex knot. The moment it's secured, the air in the room seems to compress, then expand. A pulse of energy radiates outward, invisible but palpable, like the shockwave from an explosion.
Fear tightens around my throat.How will this not be detected?
And suddenly, I can feel Zeriel—not just his physical presence, but something deeper. A connection that bypasses skin and bone, reaching into the core of him. It's dizzying, disorienting, like having a second heartbeat alongside my own.
His emotions flood through me: confusion, anger, a thread of fear, and beneath it all, a wild, untamed power that's been dormant for too long. I gasp at the intensity of it, staggering slightly.
Zeriel doesn't fare much better. He sways on his feet, his free hand gripping the edge of Selen's desk for support. “What... What have you done?” he rasps.
Selen steps back, her expression a mixture of satisfaction—and perhaps a subtle wariness. “I've awakened what was always there, Champion. What the empire tried to breed out of you. What flowed through your family’s veins.”
The cord around our hands begins to glow, a soft crimson light pulsing in time with our racing hearts. Then, to my astonishment, it seems to dissolve, the fibers sinking into our skin like they were never there at all.
Zeriel pulls his hand away from mine, breaking the physical contact.
“I feel...” he begins, then stops, struggling to find words.
