I thought about the Devourer, about Aeron's expanding conquest, about the curse that killed Daemon, and the power that might save, or doom, us all.
"I can handle more," I said.
Lyralei studied me with ancient eyes, then nodded. "Very well. But we balance intensity with restoration." She turned to Daemon. "Your presence helps stabilize her. Continue training together when possible."
Something unreadable passed between them before Daemon agreed.
"There's something else," Lyralei said, her attention returning to me. "Something I've been reluctant to offer, but which might help you understand the scope of what you're capable of."
My pulse quickened. "What?"
"Your mother's workshop. Where she developed her sealing techniques and studied dimensional mechanics." Lyralei’s voice hesitated as the words came out. "It remains preserved, untouched since her last visit before traveling south. I could show you, if you wish to see where she worked."
Emotion crashed through me, the burden of fear, disappointment, and overwhelming loss flooding my mind. My mother's workshop. Her space, her tools, her research. Everything she'd been before the scaffold, the screaming crowd, and the final drop. After what I had just learned of how she passed, I didn’t know if I was ready to face the emotions I was feeling before I had decided to focus on the task at hand.
"I..." The words stuck in my throat.
Daemon's hand found my shoulder, steady and warm. Not pushing, just present.
I breathed. Let the initial surge of feeling settle into something manageable.
"Yes," I said finally. "I want to see it."
Lyralei's smile held approval and sympathy both. "Tomorrow, then. After your morning session. I think you're ready."
Ready to face my mother's legacy. Ready to walk in her footsteps.
Ready to become what she'd always believed I could be.
I just hoped I wouldn't disappoint the memory.
CHAPTER 16
SERIS
Lyralei stopped before a dwelling I’d passed a dozen times without truly seeing. Vines wrapped the structure in living lattice with blossoms so thick they obscured the door. Yet as Lyralei approached, the flowers parted like a curtain drawing back, revealing carved wood beneath.
"She warded it to recognize bloodline," Lyralei said softly. "I maintained the protections, but only I would be allowed to enter if you were not present."
My hand trembled as I reached for the door. The wood felt warm under my palm, almost alive, humming with familiar magic that made my chest ache. It swung open at my touch.
Inside, everything remained exactly as my mother had left it.
Sunlight filtered through crystalline skylights, illuminating a workspace that defied the passage of years. No dust coated the surfaces. No cobwebs draped the corners. The air itself felt preserved, holding the faint scent of herbs and ink and something indefinablyherthat punched through my composure like a blade.
Shelves lined three walls, packed with books and scrolls organized in systems I recognized from childhood. They were sorted by theory, by application, by danger level. A workbenchdominated the center space, its surface crowded with tools I remembered her using at home from time to time, silver scribing implements, crystal focusing lenses, measuring instruments whose purpose I’d never understood.
Objects throughout the room hummed faintly, resonating with residual magic. Her magic. Woven into everything she’d touched.
"She worked here in secret," Lyralei said from the doorway, giving me space to explore. "Developing techniques to hide and protect those who remained. Every child smuggled to safety. Every family relocated before discovery. She made it possible."
I moved deeper into the workshop, fingers trailing across surfaces that still held her presence. I found a cup beside the only chair in the workshop, tea long since evaporated, but the vessel positioned exactly where she’d set it down. A shawl draped over the chair back. Reading glasses folded atop an open journal.
As if she’d simply stepped out and would return any moment.
The journals drew me like gravity. Dozens of them, leather-bound and filled with her precise handwriting. I pulled one from the shelf at random and opened it to a middle page.
, the southern territories grow more hostile daily. Lost three families this month to organized hunts. The children are terrified, and I cannot promise their parents that safety exists anywhere the kingdom's reach extends. But I will keep trying. I must keep trying.
