“First a battle took place. We defeated the forces of the Devourer that he had corrupted, Fae and humans alike. Most of the remaining Fae of the Veil lost their lives in the process. The Thorne army took heavy losses as well, but they prevailed. Then they went after the Devourer.”
"The binding ritual took three days." Lyralei's hands moved, showing the process. Dozens of Veil-touched surrounded Altheryn and the throne, power flowing in patterns so complex they hurt to observe. "When it finished, the Devourer was trapped, not destroyed, not banished, but contained within the throne itself. Prevented from manifesting fully."
"Using my ancestor's bloodline as prison bars," I said flatly.
"Using his sacrifice as the lock." Lyralei's correction held gentle firmness. "The Devourer feeds on the Thorne kings now, slowly consuming their life force instead of reality itself. Eachgeneration shoulders the burden so the world can continue existing."
Seris's hand found mine, squeezed hard. I returned the pressure automatically.
"But that also means," Lyralei continued, her gaze heavy with implication, "that your bloodlines are fundamentally entwined. The Veil-touched and the Thorne line bound together through shared sacrifice and mutual salvation. What one does affects the other. What one suffers, the other feels."
The curse and the soul bond. Our connection. The way Seris's power pulled at my life force and mine resonated with hers, all of it made terrible sense now.
"We're not just allies of circumstance," Seris said, her voice barely audible. "We're pieces of the same broken whole."
"Yes." Lyralei's expression held sympathy and steel combined. "Which is why you must both understand what you carry. The weight of history doesn't diminish because you were born ignorant of it. Your ancestor and mine made choices that echo still. The question is what you'll do with that legacy."
The Citadel's walls dimmed, images fading back into mere stone and memory.
I looked at Seris. She looked back. In her eyes, I saw the same realization settling that had taken root in my chest.
This was never just about killing my father or avenging her mother. Never just about survival or breaking curses.
We were the continuation of a story written in blood and sacrifice centuries ago, and every choice we made would determine whether that story ended in salvation or ruin.
The weight of it pressed down like the sky itself had decided to rest on our shoulders.
Seris's fingers tightened around mine. "What happens if we fail?"
Lyralei's expression gave answer before her words did. "Everything ends."
CHAPTER 15
SERIS
Two weeks of training blurred into an exhausting yet purposeful rhythm of breath control, mental discipline, and careful manipulation of the Veil. Even though Lyralei emphasized proper rest, my day started before the sun rose. I put in an extra training session before meeting her. I had a feeling she knew I wasn’t heeding her advice, but she said nothing to stop me, understanding the urgency required for the path ahead.
Afternoons were devoted to meditation, evenings to studying Veil theory in the Citadel's archives. The improvements that had been gradual at first were starting to accelerate, compounding each time I reached a new level.
I could now sense the Veil's presence without triggering defensive surges or having an emotional meltdown. The simple breathing exercises that Lyralei had emphasized so heavily, and that I had doubted, turned out to be as crucial as both Lyralei and Kael had indicated.
Control the breath. Control the body. Control the mind. Control the perception. Control the power that could make or unmake the world.
Daemon's health changed too. The stabilization of my power reflected in his health. Color returned to his face. Only a smalldark spot resembling a birthmark remained under the base of his palm, and he no longer needed to wear a glove on his left hand. He moved with more strength, no longer carrying the rigidity he had when I first met him.
As I learned control, the accidental drain on his life force diminished. We were still connected, still racing against an impossible timeline, but the immediate crisis had stepped back from the edge.
Which meant we could focus on learning how to actually fight.
"Distance," Lyralei said, standing across from me on the training grounds, "is an illusion the Veil maintains to keep dimensions separate. When you manipulate that illusion, space becomes negotiable."
I'd watched Daemon shadow-walk. The night I ran away from him, I saw him step through darkness and emerge right in front of me. However, what Lyralei taught was something else entirely.
"The Veil exists between places as much as between dimensions," she continued. "Your mother could compress the distance between two points until they overlapped. She once brought an entire company of allied soldiers three hundred miles in an eyeblink to defend fleeing Fae. This was something she excelled at. Although I can do this too, Lyanna was always a natural at this aspect of the Veil’s powers. It’s part of the reason why she was the one to operate outside of Vaelthorne."
"How can I learn this power?"
"By understanding that distance only exists because the Veil keeps it in place. The Veil is the fence that keeps distance separate, but Veil-touched magic can rewrite the rules. Teleportation is an advanced manipulation of this principle. We start small." She gestured, and the air between us rippled. "Watch."
