L seemed startled. “Did Yuki tell you what happened with my uncle?”
It was Yiran’s turn to be surprised. Was Master Kang thefamilyYuki had saved?
He shook his head. “Yuki doesn’t tell me much.”
“It’s probably for your own good.” L opened her wooden box. It was full of thin silver needles. “Yuki’s all right for a Hybrid. I’ll leave it at that.”
Distracted by the needles, Yiran gestured nervously. “Are you goingto—?” He didn’t want to sound like a whiny baby, but he wasn’t keen on being poked or stabbed. Not after his fight with Noah.
“It doesn’t hurt. I already did a round on you to hasten your healing while you were asleep. Your injuries should be fine in a few days, but your qi circulation is still disordered. It’s starting to deviate, and that’s dangerous. I’ve been trying to stabilize it, but I’m afraid there’s a deeper issue.”
Yiran stiffened. “What issue?”
She ignored his question. “Remove your sweater, sit still, and try to relax.”
The first needle went into the back of Yiran’s neck. Like L said, it didn’t hurt. She continued to line his spine with more needles, then his temples and his chest, pausing between a few pricks to check his pulse.
“I look like a pincushion,” he said, examining his arms as L carried on her work.
Gradually, he felt the knots in his muscles loosening. He didn’t know if it was the needles or the vile medicine, but something was taking the edge off and replacing it with a soft, gauzy filter. His body relaxed, as if lulled into submission, its defenses torn down. He didn’t feel in control anymore, and that scared him. He blinked hard, trying to clear the fog.
“We’ll leave the needles in for an hour. Hopefully, it’ll help reroute the flow of energy in your meridians.” L had a peculiar, unreadable expression as she closed her wooden box. “You’re really messed up inside.”
“Tell me about it,” Yiran mumbled. His insides were starting to feel weird too. He wanted to lie down, but his back was full of needles, and L was staring at him oddly.
“I don’t think you understand,” she said in a kinder tone. “I was referring to your spiritual energy and how it moves in and out of your body. It’s... different.”
As L spoke, her eyes had moved from Yiran’s face to his lap, where his hands were. He tried to focus. Had she meant to say thathewas different? That hisscarshad something to do with it? Tesha once told him his spiritual energy sprayed out unusually, like a fountain. But he’d assumed ithad beenRui’sspiritual energy in his core that had caused that. It didn’t explain what L was saying now, and it didn’t explain what had happened in the Simulator with Noah.
Think carefully about what your grandfather did to you.
The foggy feeling in his head grew, and Yiran felt himself raising his hands, showing her the scars on his fingers. “Do you know what these are?” His voice sounded as if it was coming from underwater.
L replied haltingly, “There’s a forbidden technique that blocks a magic wielder’s meridians and spirit core.”
The air seemed to press down. His heartbeat quickened, tripping erratically as if it were running from something.
“The technique destroys their ability to do magic,” L continued. “It’s forbidden precisely because of the trauma it inflicts on the person for the rest of their life.”
Her voice seemed to resonate in the room as all sensation left Yiran’s body. It felt like he was floating.
“White lanterns may practice magic outside the so-called laws of men, but even we have a code. We would never do this to a fellow magic wielder. It is the worst sin.”
Yiran heard a sound leaving his own lips. The whimper of a wounded animal. Then his voice, in a hushed whisper: “And you think this was done to me?”
L didn’t reply. Images were forming in Yiran’s head, and the room seemed to zoom in on him.
A child, barely a toddler, laughing at the crimson sparks dancing on his fingertips... the lights flickering in the house... his mother scooping him up in her arms, whisperingno, no, no... the northern wing of an old mansion... the boy, now older, crying... the leather straps holding him down... the intense pain in his bones and his soul... his body attacking itself... the soothing voice of his housekeeper...
His brother’s silence.
His grandfather’s coldness.
The specter of Song Liming loomed in Yiran’s mind.Was he really trying to draw magic from you?
Heat gushed erratically from Yiran’s stomach to his throat, his arms, his feet. His heart drummed thunderously. He couldn’t breathe.But a voice spoke in his head—his own.
You always knew, didn’t you? Deep inside, you knew what happened. You knew what he was doing to you. He took something from you. Something that belonged to you. It was yours; that’s why you want it back so badly.
