The weight of the belt Syphra gave to me at my hip feels heavier now—like it knows what I’m about to say. My voice cuts through the cavern.
“Iamyour Zhari,” I say, loud and clear. “Now tell me of the Veilborn.”
The woman’s posture shifts. Her voice deepens.
“Veilborn are rare,” she begins. “A hidden magic born only of the Cindrali. We alone can sense them.”
She turns fully to Seren.
“Keepers of the liminal. Protectors of the ancient. Veilborn walk between worlds—the doors between realms once belonged to them.”
Seren’s breath catches.
“They feel what others ignore,” the woman continues. “Hear the music of the wind. Read the language of the unseen. They touch the soul of the forgotten.”
Ronyn’s voice cuts through the silence. “Therionsaidshe had magic.” He elbows the onyx-haired woman again. “He bloody knew it. Called it weeks ago. Tvira, this guy is the best Aestherstride in the realms.” He shoots Therion a wink. Therion’s expression doesn’t flicker. “No offence, Rhy.” He shoots Rhyven an apologetic glance.
“Tvira?” I ask, brow arching.
“Yep.” Ronyn beams. “El, this is Tvira—leader of the Cindrali tribe, lost underground for a few hundred years, legendary warriors, sacred secrets, all that.”
“And how exactly do you know Tvira?” I ask, incredulous.
Ronyn shrugs. “I think I just popped straight through the waterfall or something. Waited hours for the rest of you, so Tvira gave me food. We got to talking. You know how it goes, El.”
I do know. Because this is typical fucking Ronyn.
“Ronyn has no resistance to the unknown,” Tvira’s tone is loaded with meaning. “He welcomes it.”Unlike me. She didn’t need to say it—the implication was heavy enough.
“So, now that Seren’s officially magical and we’ve all had our moment—can we eat? I’m starving,” Ronyn says, rubbing his belly in exaggerated motions.
“You may eat with your friends,” Tvira says, “but I will take those two with me.” She points to Kael and me, eyes narrowing, “I have someone who has waited a long time for you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
ELYSSARA
Kaeland I trail Tvira who walks with the grace of a honed warrior. Her hair ripples elegantly down her back with the sway of her hips, and it glints with the light of the mossy walls.
We walk in silence, but Kael’s smooth, low tone rumbles down the tether,I’ve got you, El. No matter what.
I know, I reply swiftly.It’s just so much to process.
We’ll figure it out, he pauses for a heartbeat,together.
Together,I affirm.
Tvira’s steps slow as we approach a small cavern with the flickering light of a fire greeting us at the entrance.
Tvira slams her spear down, as if this is how the Cindrali announce themselves. “Nehvara,” she calls into the cavern, the smell of sweet smoke and herbs drifting out to us in the halls. “The Zhari walks among us once more,” Tvira declares with gravitas.
I exchange a look with Kael, whose hand has not left the hilt of the blade sheathed at this side since we arrived, and he shrugs as if to say ‘I have absolutely no fucking idea what’s happening.’
I sense movement inside, and after a few heartbeats, an older woman with the same skin of deep bronze and ink-black hair—though it's speckled with gray from age—appears at the entrance. “You may leave us,” she says to Tvira assertively, though not unkindly, and Tvira simply nods and walks away. The older woman with creased skin around her eyes and deep set grooves in her cheeks from decades of smiling, edges toward us. She drags her gaze across our faces, in a curious, intrigued manner, eyes loaded with meaning. Something about her presence is disarming, because Kael’s hand falls to his side, obviously put at ease by her warm, grounding nature.
“The Lightborne is here,” she greets us warmly, her rich brown eyes lingering on my face wearing an expression akin to awe or maybe even relief.
She tightens the woolen wrap around her shoulders, squeezing it to her chest, “Come in, please. I’ve been waiting for you.”
