She closed her eyes, reaching for her deepest instincts, for trust in her own power, drawing something through that Shadow link threaded through her blood.
And she became, for a moment, Nocthar. Only this time, she saw through the raven’s eyes as though they were her own.
Her awareness tore loose from her body, rising into an omniscient vantage that showed her the scene with inhuman clarity, as if she were watching herself from across the veil of reality—herself restrained by a battle worn corpse, Sinevia standing before her, animating the creature, and Asterious, frozen in place with vacant eyes, the Shadowblood’s Blade still clenched in his hand.
The sword in his grip did not belong to this world, but the realm of the Veil. It existed outside of Sinevia’s design, bound to no single reality she could manipulate. Its edge could cleave through illusion as easily as it could through bone. Asterious believed it might save Sinevia, but Caramyn’s Raven Sightrevealed it could kill her—even here. It was not bound to curse or blessing, Light or Shadow—it commanded them.
The vision narrowed. Not on visible details, but on forces unseen with the mortal eye. She saw the forbidden magic animating the corpse soldier, how it moved not with muscle or any will, but like a puppet on a string pulled by Shadows stitched through sinew. And every so often, like the way Sinevia had flickered as she talked, the soldier’s strength wavered for just a breath.
And she counted the seconds until it would happen again, like a steady rhythm as certain as a drum beat. One…two…three…falter. Sinevia would waver, and her soldier would falter. And the sword’s power responded to her presence, as if reaching for her, tugging incessantly on something within her as a glowing essence of Light and Shadow intertwined around its gleaming blade.
Caramyn snapped back into herself and let the unforgiving seconds pass before the brief fracture in Sinevia’s power flickered again.
One…two…three…
The death soldier’s grip weakened, for less than a pulse. Caramyn drove her head backward, the crack of skull against rotting bone rattling in her ears and the pain of the impact turning her stomach. She twisted from its grasp as the thing staggered, and she did not give it time to recover.
As she ran toward Asterious, something snapped into place within her, like a soul finding its body. Her Sight caught glimpse of some string of essence, ethereal and sacred, that did not feel like magic, but more like a bond made manifest. A force that bound their fates. And she followed it, her heart beating out of her chest as Sinevia tailed her, cursing her name.
Six strides carried her to Asterious. He did not move when she reached him. He did not seem to hear her or see her.
But he would feel her.
Hope flared in her, that if she could just touch him, if she could just awaken him with the presence of that bond, he’d come back to her. His fingers were locked around the hilt of the Blade, knuckles bloodless, the weapon humming with restrained power. Caramyn grabbed his wrists and pried, her last hope literally locked within his hand.
She whispered, “Please, break free. I know you’re strong enough.”
Then Asterious looked up for the first time since Sinevia had taken his mind hostage. His eyes, one thunder grey, one silver, swept across the Veil and Sinevia charging toward them, something raging and lethal in her movements—and something sharp and glinting in her hand.
He released the sword to Caramyn just as Sinevia reached them. She raised the Blade above her head and swung, just as some piercing pain cut through her core, and when the edge came down on Sinevia, it shattered in a blinding explosion of light.
61
Shadowborn
Caramyn
The faint smell of smoke, ash, and burning wood filled her nostrils. The echo of flames crackled somewhere in the distance, as if on the other side of a wall. Asterious screamed her name, far away in a dream.
She was lying on the ground, surrounded by shattered pieces of black steel, looking up at the Veil. Shadows danced at the Veil’s great tree and drew near to her, slithering up and around her arms, illuminating her Shadowblood veins. And in the midst of them stood a tall, menacing figure, with void-black eyes and inky veins like hers crawling across every inch of visible skin beneath his black mage’s robe.
“Caramyn.”
He called her name, his voice a gentle, comforting contrast to his sinister appearance.
“Caramyn, my child.”
“Morveth?”She asked weakly, though the words weren’t coming from her mouth, but rather from somewhere in her thoughts.
“Yes, my daughter.”He inclined his head, dark eyes warm despite the shadows clinging to his form.“Well done. The Blade is broken. It is the final proof that your power has awakened. It has released Shadows from their charge of protecting you, the last vessel of Shadow magic.”A faint smile touched his lips, pride softening his features. “And it has freed my bound form.”
Caramyn stared at him, unable to look away, unable to respond, her jaw hanging open in disbelief and overwhelm.
“It was the only way to save you in your mother’s womb,”Morveth continued, lifting a hand toward the towering presence of the Veil.“Your life is bound to it, and its life to yours. I never knew if the binding would hold—if you would even survive. And if you did, whether you would one day seek the truth.”His voice lowered.“But I hoped. And now my soul knows that hope was not misplaced.”
“How?” Caramyn gasped, a subtle sting of pain rising in her stomach. “How is any of this possible? What about what Mother did to save me—when she sought out the witch?”
“The witch did nothing more than attempt a spell many have tried for centuries—and failed. By the time your mother reached her, your heart had already stopped. Shadowbloods were never meant to bear offspring. Our immortal blood is incompatible with creating new life.”His expression darkened.“But I could not let you die.”
