Something gave way and collapsed within Asterious. A suffocating emptiness in his chest that swallowed him whole,drawing breath from his lungs and dragging him under. He felt cold, and afraid, and weak. Nothing could have prepared him to see what he’d just been shown.
He wanted so fiercely to believe it was a lie—an illusion sent to rip open his deepest wounds—but he knew deep down that it was the truth he’d been avoiding all along. His greatest fear had been made real and undeniable from this point forward, seared into his mind forever. He would forever carry the pain, the shame, the guilt, and the grief of the horrifying truth that he had killed his own mother.
“He...he told me he’d imprisoned her somewhere far away…” Asterious’ croaked out each word, through tears that ached as they fell.
“And he had no intention of ever telling you the truth, just as he had no intention of ever making you his heir.” Sinevia’s words were sharp, but she stopped, and a glimpse of that little girl that used to visit him in the cell broke through for a breath or two. “I saw them take you out of that room. That was the first time I learned you existed.” She added, almost gently, almost like she cared.
He expected her to laugh at him, to meet his pain with sneers and taunts. But she only watched the tears he shed roll gently down the curve of his cheek. And something in her eyes shifted, like she longed to say something. Something softened, unfocused, as though she gazed at him through a memory instead of the broken man that stood before her. For a mere moment, her lips parted, words clearly there on the edge of being spoken.
He looked at her, hoping, praying she would say something that would give him any semblance of hope his sister was still there.
But she only tightened her jaw and looked away. And that quiet, intentional restraint cut more deeply than any cruel words she could’ve said.
He would forever carry the pain, the shame, the guilt, and the grief of the truth that he had killed his own mother. It would never soften, never loosen its hold on his heart. It would walk beside him in every choice he made, a hollow ache he could neither outrun nor forget. But he would not let it control him another day.
And then, just as he expected to look away to see Caramyn standing beside him in the glade, he was no longer at the Veil’s glade, or even in the Woods. He was nowhere, and yet somewhere all at once—a void of nothingness, then back in the cell where his father imprisoned him all those years.
The revelation settled deep into his bones—he was still trapped in Sinevia’s visions, locked within his own buried memories. And he could not find the way out.
60
Raven’s Sight
Caramyn
Caramyn watched Asterious and Sinevia in the snowy glade, a strange, silent moment between them as they faced each other, appearing more like broken siblings yearning to find peace with one another rather than two enemies fighting for a kingdom.
She kept a wary eye on the prince, refusing to feel comfortable leaving his mind vulnerable at the hands of his sister. He stared into nothingness, trance-like, his body still there but his mind very much somewhere else.
And she stood there, alone in a sense, left with only the scene around her to absorb— the Lightborn Prince and the dark Queenstanding like statues, locked in their trance in the midst of a circle of corpses. And behind them, the great black void that was the Veil, churning and groaning as though it was angry it had been disturbed, as the massive tree that guarded it like a gate seemed to twist and sway. She studied it carefully, noticing the streaks of dried blood that ran down its bark and seeped into the base of its roots. And she noticed how the sigil on her arm bore a strong resemblance to the shape of the tree itself.
Then her eyes followed the twisting roots upward, the veiny lines reminding her of her own vine-like markings—the same one etched into the Shadowblood’s Blade—and a shudder trickled down her spine. If she was the true weapon, what did that mean she had to do to wield herself? Where was her power, and how was she supposed to know how to access it?
And then, as her mind swarmed with these thoughts like a panicked flock of birds, her gaze snagged on the curves of the tree’s trunk, tracing it with her eyes up midway to notice the ridges in the bark that were barely there, but clear enough to be seen by someone looking for them.
A vaguely familiar mark.
Not a mark. Not a rune. But a signature—one she swore she’d seen before, in coarse black ink at the bottom of a letter never meant to be found. Shaped with the same curving lines as the branching roots winding through her veins. A precise “M,” formed in sweeping strokes like the outstretched wings of a raven—the seal of Morveth.
The chilling realization stole her breath as she considered that her father and Morveth were one and the same.
The Shadowblood who warned the Lightborn of their downfall was the very same who, at Daemar’s command, sealed them behind the Veil. The same Shadowblood forced to bind all magic—even his own—away from the realm. The same Shadowblood whose mark lay hidden within her own.
And at last, she understood.
The prison was just a façade on the surface—a literal veil, hiding the truth deep within these vicious Woods—and guarding the Light locked behind it.
ItwasMorveth’s last stand before his destruction—not against the Lightborn, but against Daemar, and those like him with truly darkened hearts, by sealing awayallmagic here to protect it from those who would seek to twist it for evil, locking it beyond reach in a world being stripped of Light.
Shadowbloods were never the enemies. They were never the real evil—they were the ones holding it back. The guardians of darkness. The balancers between Light and Shadow. They bore the darkness where others could not. And since the Shattering, they had been driven into solitude, feared and reviled for the very power that defined them—just as she had been.
The world believed Shadowbloods and their power were a danger. But perhaps the true danger was in their absence.
The realizationstruck likemistlifting from her eyes, and it became all too clear what she was meant to do. She had spent so long believing her connection and immunity to the Shadows made her something less, something worse than even them. But now she was more sure than ever that it was her strength, guarding what little Light still burned within her.
As she watched Sinevia invade Asterious’ mind with power never meant for her, Caramyn saw the future she would become if she failed. Sinevia was not born a monster. And neither was she.
She would guard her heart. She would resist. With power or without it. Even when the path forward wasn't clear. Even when it seemed too small to matter. Even when it felt futile or insignificant to fight back, she would not let the darkness win.
