My throat closed. I flipped through more pages, scanning entries that cataloged her desperate work. Lists of families. Safe houses. Evacuation routes. Failed attempts and narrow escapes.
Protection spells dominated the workspace. Diagrams covered entire wall sections, complex runic arrays designed to conceal, redirect, and shield. She’d devoted her final years tobuilding safeguards for people she’d never met, children she’d never see grow up.
Saving everyone except herself.
I pulled another journal, this one focused purely on technical developments, rune combinations, binding theories, dimensional anchoring techniques. The notation grew denser, more desperate, as if she’d raced against time to record everything she knew.
One page stopped me cold.
The runes. Precise diagrams of intricate patterns designed to channel Veil magic into… a weapon.
My fingers traced the lines she’d drawn, and recognition slammed through me with physical force. These runes. I knew these runes.
They’d carved them into my skin.
Terror locked my body in place. The journal shook in my hands as I stared at my mother’s careful notation, her theoretical exploration of forced channeling and magical slavery. She’d studied these techniques. Documented them. Understood exactly how they functioned.
The king had used her own research to torture me.
"Seris?" Lyralei’s voice reached me from far away. "What is it?"
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Could only stare at the diagrams that matched the scars burning beneath my clothes.
Lyralei crossed to me, her hand gentle on my shoulder. "Seris, tell me, "
I shoved the journal at her, pointing with a trembling finger. The targeting sigils they’d carved before the ritual.
“They carved this sigil in me before they tried to channel my power. It was different from the others. The moment it was in my skin, it disappeared. As if it seeped into my skin and into my bones.”
Lyralei’s face went white.
"Show me the spot," she said, voice hard with something I’d never heard from her before, fear.
I turned, lifting my shirt to reveal my chest, and pointed to the spot.
Lyralei waved her hand over the spot, white light illuminating the tips of her fingers. The sigil reappeared. I heard her sharp intake of breath.
"This shouldn't exist," Lyralei whispered. "Lyanna discovered these during her travels, never tested them. These are runes that connect to the Veil. Once Veil magic is channeled into these runes,”
Lyralei turned white.
“The knowledge should have been contained in this workshop, specifically to prevent this kind of application." Her fingers hovered over my scars without touching. "How did Aeron, "
"Does it matter?" Bitterness flooded my voice. "He has them. He used them. He tried to turn me into exactly what she feared most."
"It matters because these aren't just binding runes." Lyralei grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to face her. "These create a permanent connection between the conduit and the weapon. A tracking mechanism. If Aeron's mages completed the ritual framework, "
The explosion hit before she finished speaking.
The entire workshop shuddered. Crystals shattered. Books tumbled from shelves. Through the windows, I saw a plume of violet fire erupt from Vaelthorne's eastern edge, corruption-dark and wrong against the settlement's gentle light.
Village alarms screamed to life.
Lyralei's expression shifted into something terrifying. Her gentle smile was replaced with ancient fury that made the airitself recoil. "They found us. They followed the connection." She grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the door. "We have to evacuate now. Get everyone out before, "
Another explosion. Closer this time. The ground bucked beneath our feet.
We burst from the workshop into chaos.
