“Because…I am certain. Mostly. Unless Wyran is somehow mistaken.”
Caramyn blinked away the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes at the mention of Wyran before she demanded further explanation. But she couldn’t hide the way her body stiffened at the name.
“I know he can be old-fashioned and hardheaded. But there’s a reason. He was there when the blood turned sour between magic and mortals. He was there before the Order and saw the destructiveness already wrought from the conflict between Light and Shadow. He saw firsthand the damage magic could do, and it left him bitter.”
“And he never once questioned it? Never considered that maybe the evils of the human heart could be just as destructive as any born of magic?”
“If he had, he would have been dead. Like anyone else who defied my father. But that’s the thing—he stayed close through it all, and because of that, he knows what truly happened at the battle in the Woods…and he told me everything.”
“So what information could he have provided you with that’s valuable enough for you to tolerate his indifference towards the fate of magickind?”
Asterious flared his nostrils and looked aside, a brief pause before he explained.
“That the Veil wasn’t the only thing left behind in the Shadow Woods by the last Shadowblood. He also created a weapon—a Blade—forged from Shadow magic and sealed with Lightborn blood to hold the balance between Light and Shadow…and I would dare say strong enough to bind the power of either.”
Caramyn tilted her head at the mention of the Shadowblood’s traitorous act of obedience to Daemar, sealing away the last of the Lightborn army into a void of darkness, leaving common magic folk to their own defenses when the hunts and purgesbegan. And if this were true, what did it mean that she’d been blindly protecting something alongside the Shadows that they’d never revealed to her? Unless…they were revealing it to her now. Like this. So that she would know the weight of what she was meant to protect, and who to protect it from…
“Why would the Shadowblood leave something like that behind if he was helping your father eradicate magic?”
“Because magic cannot be destroyed. Only contained. So, he bound it to those Woods somewhere, and only someone worthy—someone strong enough—to bear the weight of its power can find it and free it. My father of course tried to take it for himself…and failed, thank the Shattered gods.”
Caramyn’s blood ran cold. If this thing was real, then she couldn’t let the prince near it again. And she might as well forget the idea of running away to freedom. She must return to the Shadow Woods. She could not let that kind of power fall into the hands of a Blackwynd, half-Lightborn or not. And as a sense of urgency rose within, she had to hide all outward expression, careful not to reveal the storm of revelation that was stirring inside her. “That’s why you were in the Woods? You think the Blade is yours to claim?”
“I don’t think anything…I hope. Because I have carried darkness far greater than anything in those Shadow Woods.” Something in his words made Caramyn shift her posture as goosebumps rose along her arm.
That sword is the only hope I have of stopping Sinevia from being fully consumed by darkness. Because she—and what's left of this broken kingdom—won't survive it if I don’t.”
“How…” Caramyn swallowed. “How can your sister be as powerful as you claim?”
“Because Sinevia isn’t just an ordinary human Spellbound—she is a Seer,” Asterious said. “And that has only accelerated her rise. She turned to forbidden spells that draw on Shadow, andthough it granted her power, it darkened her heart in exchange. She was so desperate after a life spent concealing her abilities out of fear of our father I fear she doesn’t even realize what it’s done to her…”
Caramyn absorbed his words in silence, considering the weight of them. Seers were rare and impartial to magic or race. And Spellbounds were not defined by either Light or Shadow, because they weren’t born from the god-Shattering. They were forged, shaped by those who mastered the ancient languages and wove them into incantations and runes that drew from Light. Anything derived from Shadow was strictly forbidden—and was supposed to have been destroyed with the Shadowbloods.
“So how do you plan to stop her with this Shadowblood’s Blade?” she finally asked bluntly.
“I could kill her.” The prince said without hesitation. “But I don't want to. There's been enough bloodshed in my family already."
Caramyn wiped her mouth with a napkin and cocked her head. “She clearly had no qualms with trying to kill you.”
“Because she is blinded by the corruption of Shadows. But my hope is that if I can free the Blade…I can use its power to return balance to her heart—to reach whatever part of her has hardened.” He paused, drumming his fingers on the table. “I refuse to believe I have lost the sister I once knew. The sister who promised me when we were younger, that one day she would learn to control her visions and help me find my mother.”
Something brushed against Caramyn’s spirit, the way his voice wavered. This was all still connected to her. His mother. The fate of the kingdom might as well have been intertwined with that of the lost Lightborn Queen. But she couldn’t exactly blame him. If there was even the slightest chance she could’ve saved her mother’s life, she’d do whatever she had to, at whatever cost.
“You don’t hate your sister. Despite what she’s done. You see her even through her darkness.” It wasn’t a question. It was an observation.
“No…I don’t hate her. How could I, when I knew her long before she became this twisted version of herself? She was once just a curious young girl that snuck through the castle to visit me in my solitude, confused by strange visions, taught to suppress them, and ultimately broken by watching her closest friend put to death and being powerless to stop it.”
“Let me guess,” Caramyn huffed, shaking her head. “Daemar executed his own daughter’s best friend?”
Asterious clicked his tongue. “She was the court physician’s daughter, caught using magic to heal patients. Sinevia pleaded with our father to spare her, but he refused to change his mind. That’s when she turned to forbidden magic in hopes to stop the execution. When that failed, she pursued it even more desperately in hopes of resurrecting her friend, only to find life raised by magic is not life at all.”
Caramyn listened, brow drawn tight, half in horror at what he was saying, and half disgust that Daemar could order the death of such an innocent using magic for good.
The prince must’ve read her expression as he went to speak again. “Believe me, I’m the last person you need to convince that Daemar was horrid. Which is why I strive to be nothing like him.” Something in his voice cracked, breaking through the illusion of his hardened exterior.
And then another realization struck. A horrible, terrible, gut-wrenching realization that made her blood turn to ice beneath her skin. There was a silence so thick it was suffocating, until Caramyn looked away, focusing on the patterns in the wall tapestry as she said, “You had to execute her, didn’t you? Her friend. That’s why Sinevia hates you.”
She saw the way he swallowed and clenched his jaw, and she swore she saw a bleary glimmer in those grey and silver eyes that refused to meet hers. “Yes.”
