My Blood Is Yours (The Summoning #1)

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

ELOWEN

“ L ook at your beautiful little horns.” My cheeks flush as I take in my heightened appearance. Sariel stands just behind me, admiring the little horns now protruding through my hair on either side of the crown of my head. They’re not even the length of my fingers. “Do you think they’ll grow?”

Sariel caresses one, drawing a shiver up my spine. “I’m not sure. I mean… It's possible. In Vassileo, I’d met a few mortals who’d made the shift, but I can’t recall them having horns. My guess would be that your shift is complete since you’re not experiencing any more symptoms.”

I heave a sigh, feeling a little insecure. Sariel’s horns are more than a foot long—curling, and lethal. He could easily impale someone with them should he so choose.

“But they’re so small,” I pout.

A dazzling grin splits Sariel’s face as he chuckles, bending to press a firm kiss to my temple. “Just like you, my precious soulbound. ”

I turn, swatting at his arm. “I am not small. I’m nearly six feet tall.”

He arches a haughty brow, as if I’ve just proven his point. I roll my eyes, but before I can complain any further, Sariel sweeps me off my feet and tosses me over his shoulder with a firm smack to each of the rounded globes of my ass.

“Come, my parents are expecting us, and I’d like to see if my parents have made any headway with figuring out how to use the mana siphon.”

Sariel’s mother beams from ear to ear when she opens the door. Her eyes glisten with tears as she presses her fingers to her lips, taking in my new daemoness form. As a Sanguinati, she was already immortal, so she’s relatively human-looking—a tall, lithe, ethereal, breathtakingly beautiful one with hip-length silvery hair. She rushes forward with open arms and pulls me against her chest. “How are you feeling, darling?”

I can’t help but take in a big whiff of her sweet, soft, jasmine-y smell.

“Much better, thank you.”

When we pull away, she takes my hand, already knowing what she’ll find. My heart swells with affection for her as our watery gazes and grins meet once more, and something unspoken passes between us.

A powerful presence is the only thing that precedes the sight of Sariel’s father, boasting a soft smile and glittering eyes, approaching. The male, despite being a towering wall of muscle, moves with preternatural silence, as I’m coming to learn Sariel does as well. For all his intimidating qualities, the male is shockingly warm and tender-hearted, it seems. He’d shed more tears meeting me yesterday than even his wife. His voice is like the bass of a drum.

“I found a book on how to utilize the mana siphon.”

“In your mind’s eye, visualize a vein running from the tip of your fingers running all the way up your arm and into the energy center in the middle of your chest. See it spinning in a clockwise direction and drawing upon the magic held in the mana siphon. Intuitively, you should feel when you’ve absorbed enough of the magic to do with it what you will, and then you can stifle the flow of drawing the magic into your body. You will then be able to direct the vision to appear in the scrying well here by channeling the energy gathered from the mana siphon by placing your fingers into the water and guiding the energy there.”

Sariel’s father, Charon, sets down the Encyclopedia of Magical Implements for the Minori Wielder and waits for me to gather the mana siphon where it sits on a velvet cushion.

Grief tightens my chest as I near it. Even standing near it, it feels like her. I can’t be certain if it’s due to my newfound magical proclivity, but after ten years of mourning her absence, suddenly standing next to something that so very obviously radiates her is enough to have tears welling in my eyes. It makes me wonder how I ever went my entire life without having sensed her magic. The energy that was so uniquely her and something so much more than just any average human magic.

Sariel is a soothing presence at my side, while Evandriel, with Halyra on his hip and Kelestra tucked into his side, watches from beside Charon and Monette. It seems that the last few days have been transformative for them, though I can’t help but wonder just how much Kelestra knows about her soulbound’s relationship with my mother.

With careful fingers, I lift the siphon, following Charon’s instructions. It feels like opening a floodgate as my mother’s energy pours into me in a rushing, whirling river of magic. It’s like I can suddenly feel not only every individual cell of my own body but those of everyone around me and beyond, connected one to the other by ephemeral veins of electricity and light. No longer am I bound to this world within the confines of my body—I am a floating, microcosmic speck united to an infinite whole. My closed eyes are wide open in this place that appears beyond, yet is so very clearly within.

God, what was I supposed to be doing? It hardly feels as though it matters now.

My body is a distant tether, tense with overwhelm, but as I settle into the sensation of just being , it begins to relax.

And then—that’s when it happens. All sense of self seems to disappear, and I only am.

Visions and voices from across every space and time begin to batter me, consume me, and fill me. I feel their joy, their anguish, their fear, their euphoria. And oh god, it’s too much. It’s too much. I can’t even remember who or what I am—only that this feeling, this weight, this act of being is too much to bear.

The sound of familiar voices trickles into my periphery, but there’s only one that seems to anchor me. Sariel. I can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but simply the deep resonance of his voice alone reminds me of who I am and what I need to do. Warm hands guide me, and distantly, I can feel my fingers dipping into water.

Find Sariel’s brother.

The painting of Theriel they had shown me returns to my mind’s eyes, and in the next moment, I find myself standing in a dark room with a stage. A strange language I’ve never heard—but that I can somehow understand—echoes through the room, the voice somehow sounding artificial.

“… Please, find your seats, the auction will begin shortly…”

I shift to find where the voice is coming from, only to come face to face with Theriel. My god, the male is a mountain. And he looks far meaner, far crueller, than Sariel. Whereas Sariel possesses a natural warmth and playfulness, this male is the opposite. Cold. Stoic. Fearsome.

Despite being right in front of him, he doesn’t notice me. His eyes are locked to the stage just a row ahead of us, and when I turn to follow his gaze, a line of stark naked females stride onto the stage, all linked together by chained collars—most of which have sullen posture. Emanating from the line of females, fear and despair wash over me in such a powerful wave that it threatens to crush me, and the rage radiating from Theriel makes the non-corporeal body I’m currently in burn.

Originating from no particular point in the room, the artificial voice echoes again—like some damning god.

“Welcome to Hexoria’s 235th annual Eden Enterprises Breeding Auction. Onstage are tonight’s stock, each one a thoroughbred specimen from our labs, guaranteeing the best genetic material, mastery in the mating disciplines, plus the added value of an unperforated hymen and fully lactating teats, ready for high volume production…”

If I had a stomach in this vision, I’d be spilling its contents all over the people in front of me—many of which are bizarre, humanoid-looking creatures I’ve never seen before.

The females shuffle off-stage before the artificial voice announces one of the females. A moment later, now untethered from the group of slaves, she walks out alone to the center of the spotlight. She’s not human—or at least not fully—on account of her lilac skin, unnaturally red hair, and remarkably long pointed ears that I can see are currently trembling along with the rest of her body.

This is a fucking horror show.

Tears burn my eyes as I watch her, and no one else seems to care or notice—outside of me and Theriel, who is also trembling—but with rage.

Bidding begins in a currency I don’t recognize and ends in under a minute when a price is agreed upon. Then she scampers off-stage and disappears behind a thick velvety curtain.

This process repeats over and over until the last female is announced. She walks out with a slight limp to her step—something I hadn’t noticed previously when she had been with the crowd of other slaves . A curtain of blonde hair hangs around her head, but when she lifts her gaze—directly to where Theriel stands behind me—shock spears through me like a bolt of fucking lightning.

I’d recognize that port-wine birthmark decorating the right side of her face and neck anywhere. And those rosebud lips, dark eyes, and delicate nose? I spent twenty years looking up into that face. The only difference is the blonde hair and large breasts—though that could have something to do with the breastmilk currently trickling from their tips.

Oh my fucking god.

I want to weep. I want to scream. I want to kill every single person in this fucking room.

Even if her looks weren’t a near-mirror copy, the energy I can feel from her is so very much the same as the one I’ve known all my life. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind who this woman is. Even if she is clearly some years younger than me. Reincarnation is something I’ve always believed in.

And I know, without a fucking doubt, this woman is my mother.