26. Chapter Twenty Six #5
They deposited a heavy tome into my hands.
Its cracked leather binding looked as though it had survived more centuries than any human had a right to.
“This,” Ness said, “charts the ebb and flow of Rift surges recorded during the Third Cycle—what some historians call the Dawn of the Riftborn Age. If you can recognize the patterns of resonance, you may find a way to predict your own visions. And if prediction is possible, control may follow.”
“Control,” I echoed, the word sticking in my throat. “I didn’t realize that was possible.”
“Anything is possible with discipline and knowledge,” Ness replied briskly, already pulling scrolls from a higher shelf. “The Rift responds to order—or chaos. You must decide which you will embody.”
Across the table, Drake had been pretending to read for the past hour. His boots were kicked up on a chair, his broad frame sprawled in a way that made him look both careless and predatory. Every so often I caught his eyes drifting toward me, his smirk deepening when I noticed.
“She’s already more competent than half our recruits,” he drawled, his silver gaze glinting with mischief. “Let her figure it out her own way, Ness. She doesn’t need a lecture every time she sneezes wrong.”
Ness snapped their head toward him. “Captain Eldrake, if you insist on trivializing a discipline older than the Kingdom itself, I will have to ask you to leave.” Their hands flapped in agitated emphasis. “The Rift is not a tavern brawl. It cannot be mastered with muscle and luck.”
Drake lifted his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t falter. “Forgive me. Carry on. I’ll just sit here quietly and… observe.”
“You never sit quietly,” I muttered, flipping open the tome.
He winked. “I’m observing .”
Ness huffed and muttered something that sounded like, “impossible men, all brawn, no sense of reverence.” Then they launched into another explanation, their words spilling fast, tangled, like a dam loosed of its river.
“This passage—here, see the glyph along the margin? This refers to the principle of emotional resonance. Emotions are not merely influences; they are the very currency by which Riftborn access the Rift. Joy, grief, rage—they are catalysts. If you can learn to center yourself, your visions may sharpen. Emotional chaos produces chaotic manifestations.”
I bit my lip. Emotional chaos. My gaze flicked toward Drake. He was leaning back now, watching me with lazy amusement, and my pulse betrayed me instantly. Emotional chaos, indeed.
“I’ll… work on that,” I said, trying to focus on the glyphs.
Ness gave a curt nod. “Good. Then let us test it.”
They cleared the table with a sweep of their hand, scrolls and loose pages stacked with almost alarming precision. From a shelf, Ness pulled down a glass sphere, faintly clouded, its surface rippling with a subtle inner light.
“This,” Ness explained, setting it before me, “is a minor Rift vessel. It responds to psychic resonance. A harmless instrument, but it will serve to gauge whether you can channel at will.”
“Harmless?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Entirely. Unless you happen to shatter it, in which case shards of crystal may embed themselves in your hands and face.”
“Encouraging,” I muttered.
Drake chuckled. “Don’t worry, Eva. I’ll catch the shards before they touch you.”
“Captain Eldrake,” Ness said sharply, “you are not helping.”
Drake only smirked wider.
I pressed my hands to the sphere. It was cool, smooth, deceptively simple. “What do I do?”
“Breathe,” Ness instructed. “Summon a thought. A memory. Anything that stirs the Rift within you. Focus on the emotion, not the image. Let the feeling bleed into the sphere.”
My throat tightened. I thought of the fire that consumed my home. Of my mother’s lullabies, turned suddenly to lies. Of Colin’s hands pinning me down. My skin crawled, my chest tightening?—
The sphere glowed, faint and trembling.
“Better,” Ness said softly. “But chaotic. Too much fear.”
I closed my eyes. Fear twisted. But there was something else—something warmer. I thought of Drake’s cloak around my shoulders, his laugh rumbling against my back, the way he had held me that night when the dreams finally stilled.
Heat bloomed in my chest. The sphere flared bright.
My eyes snapped open. The glass throbbed with inner light, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Drake leaned forward, his smirk faltering into something else—something raw.
“Fascinating. Emotional resonance, yes, but… anchored. Your Rift is not only feeding from your own core—it is tethered to another.” Their eyes flicked quickly from me to Drake before their quill scratched furiously across the page, notes spilling faster than their mouth.
“Something potentially dangerous. Not a typical bond, no.”
My stomach lurched. Bond? Tethered? Our magic was tethered ? What did that even mean? And why did Drake suddenly look like he’d seen a ghost?
He’d gone still, unnervingly so. The lazy smirk was gone, replaced by something shuttered and sharp. He stared at the sphere like it had betrayed him.
I forced myself to breathe, dragging my palms off the glass before it could flare again. “Not… a typical bond?” I repeated, the words tasting foreign. “What do you mean?”
Ness hummed distractedly, still scribbling. “Rare. Very rare. But possible.” They ignored my question. They didn’t even look up.
I looked at Drake. And Gods, he looked strange—too rigid, like he was trying to disappear into the chair. My pulse thudded painfully in my ears. Why does he look so fucking weird right now?
Without thinking, I reached across the table, brushing the back of his hand with my fingertips. “Are you okay?”
He blinked, once. Twice. His jaw flexed, silver eyes snapping up to meet mine with a force that almost knocked the air from my lungs. “I’m fine,” he said, too quickly. Too tight.
Ness cleared their throat as though the room hadn’t just shifted. “Something potentially dangerous,” they repeated, more to themselves than to us. “But also very promising.”
The lesson trudged on—Ness droning about mitigating variables, about emotional resonance as if nothing earth-shattering had just happened. But my head wouldn’t stop spinning. Bond. Not typical. Tethered.
And Drake…
Drake hadn’t let go of my hand.