Page 332

Quentin stared, but said nothing until he turned away and walked over to the table with the old books and his notebook. He opened it and leafed through it hastily, as if searching for something.

“You have to think of it this way,” he continued, and I was grateful that he didn't ask any questions about my father. “You have an element. In your case, air. You can obviously still use this element.”

I cautiously stepped closer, but tried to keep my distance as I stopped a meter away from him and looked down at his notes.

“Your ice powers exist independently from your Quatura element.” Quentin turned to me. His gaze was like the one Grace always had when she studied earth practice rituals. “It’s an Umbra curse, woven into your family's genetics.”

Wait... What? A curse? Umbra? Inside my body?

I blinked, trying to piece the facts together.

Quentin pulled two DNA analysis printouts from his notebook, including DNA sequences, chromatograms, genetic profiles, and gel electrophoresis images, on the margins of which he had scribbled messy notes.

“Your genetic profile contains all the markers characteristic of an Air Quatura. But look,” Quentin pointed at the chromatogram. “There is also an anomalous sequence that I have not found in any of the healthy Air Quatura samples in my database.”

He pulled out another chromatogram. That of a normal Air Quatura.

As always, I was astonished by the precision of the data that could be recorded at the DLSC, but I still had difficulty understanding their content.

“I isolated the anomalous sections of your DNA and exposed them to concentrated Umbra extract. Unlike the DNA of Quatura, Senseque, and humans, those sections reacted to the extract. They fused with it.”

He tapped on a table where he had recorded the results of his testing of said concentrated Umbra extract on the other DNA samples, and I wondered where the Senseque DNA had come from.

“Which means you unnaturally have Umbra in your blood. Most likely triggered by a curse that has penetrated the genetics of your ancestors.”

Quentin pulled an old piece of parchment from one of the old books, and I still wondered where he had gotten them from.

“Here. Look.” He tapped the runes as if I could read this mysterious script. “Without this old document, I would never have figured it out.”

“What is it?”

I felt stupid, unprepared, and wanted to finally learn more about this script, especially since I had discovered the shelf in the room of the old Dragonfly Society.

“An extremely complicated curse ritual in which Umbra is woven into the DNA. A specific trait is bound to this Umbra. In your case, the trait that allows you to create ice.”

Fascinating… The dark practices seemed to have no limits. And they worked so strangely differently from elemental practices.

“Does that mean you can bind abilities to yourself with Umbra?” I probed further.

“In principle, yes,” Quentin said with a thoughtful look at the old parchment sheet. “However, this ritual is complex. It also requires a living sacrifice. And there is one part I don’t understand. It is something that is required and related to it.”

Wrinkles formed between his eyebrows.

“An ingredient?” I asked.

He nodded. “Probably. My translation says pure Umbrian. A term I keep coming across everywhere, but there’s nothing about it in the scriptures I have access to.”

“Maybe concentrated Umbra? That extract you were talking about?”

“That’s what I thought, too, but with that translation, the other scriptures wouldn’t make sense.”

I wanted to help him, but I was useless. I didn’t know the language, nor did I know if I could find any Umbral literature anywhere in Moenia that hadn’t been burned.

The only thing I could do was tell him about the shelf in the Vanderwood clock tower. But the others would lynch me if I let someone in on it who they most likely wouldn't trust.

And suddenly, I realized that I trusted him.

I looked up, studying the man in front of me who was focused on his documents.