Chapter Thirty-Two
Adrian
Night didn’t fall normally. It bled.
A purple sheen seeped across Heatherfell, staining the fog that coiled around the foothills. The cracks spiderwebbing the valley floor pulsed with a dim, unnatural light, and the anchors hummed. Adrian felt them in his bones.
It was time.
The castle’s courtyard had been stripped of its usual bustle. Only essential people remained: Connor, Adrian, Fraser, Max, Piper, Moira, Irial, and Xiathen. Torches burned along the walls, their flames bending the opposite way: leaning toward the valley instead of away.
Adrian stood by Connor’s side, the mark glowing through his thin linen shirt in spirals of violet and gold: the unified colours of the Council and Connor’s wolf. His breathing was steady, but he could feel the tremor under his skin.
“You don’t look ready,” Connor muttered. His own sigil burned brightly along his forearm.
Adrian attempted a smile. “I’m ready enough.” We might bring the world as we know it to despair tonight. Of course I’m not ready.
“Not good enough,” Connor snapped. “If you start collapsing again—”
Adrian stepped closer, his fingertips brushing Connor’s wrist. “I won’t collapse.”
“If you do,” Connor said darkly, “I’ll catch you.”
Xiathen approached, his robes whispering. “The anchors are restless. The March must begin.”
Connor straightened. “Tell us what to do.”
“You walk,” Xiathen said softly. “Together. Down the valley’s central pathway. When you feel the mark pulling, do not resist. Focus, not on fighting it, but on each other. Let the bond split the strain. The Triarc is ready to help where they can.”
Adrian’s pulse quickened. “And if it doesn’t split?”
Xiathen looked at him with sympathetic eyes. “Then the valley will.”
Connor growled. “Wonderful.”
Fraser clapped Connor’s shoulder. “We’re with you, lad.”
“No,” Connor said sharply. “Only Adrian and I walk the fault lines. Everyone else stays back.”
“The hell we do,” Max muttered.
Connor glared. “If the ground collapses beneath us, there must be someone left alive to fight.”
Max’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Piper kissed Adrian’s cheek. “Don’t let the mark eat you.”
Moira smacked Connor’s arm. “And you don’t let the Veil take you. I will drag your wolf hide back from the afterlife if you fail me, Connor Brannigan.”
Xiathen raised a hand. “It is time.”
Adrian looked at Connor, who nodded once. Then they stepped once again onto the valley path together.
The moment they crossed the outer field, the temperature dropped.
The grass beneath their boots was brittle and frost-laced, but it glowed faintly as though lit from below.
Each step sent ripples through the cracks almost as if each fracture were a string on an instrument, their presence plucking notes the valley could understand.
Adrian shivered. “They feel us.”
Connor’s hand hovered at Adrian’s back. “Let him.”
The sky above flickered, the clouds twisting in a slow, spiralling motion. A soft wind blew, tainted with the scent of ozone and old magic.
“This is unsettling,” Connor murmured. “The valley doesn’t behave like this.”
Adrian nodded. “The anchors are fully awake.”
They walked, and the ground responded. Fissures glowed brighter as they passed. Strange, whispering voices slid through the air like ribbons of sound.
Adrian’s breath hitched. “They know where we are.”
Connor growled. “Good. Let them see us coming.”
They reached the first rise overlooking Glengáill. Below, the village flickered with lights and fear. Adrian exhaled shakily. “This is surreal.”
Connor brushed his hand against Adrian’s briefly. “Focus on me. Ignore them.”
Adrian nodded, steadying himself, and they continued on. The air shimmered. The fault lines pulsed. The ground trembled.
And then it began. A low rumble rose beneath them. The earth split a few feet ahead of them in a jagged crack of blue-white light.
“Here we go,” Adrian muttered.
The crack widened. Connor dragged Adrian back against his chest, holding him as the ground convulsed. Adrian’s body was taut with tension, his muscles straining against the pull.
Xiathen’s distant voice echoed across the valley. “Channel the bond.”
Connor pressed his forehead to Adrian’s, gripping the sides of his face. “Adrian. Look at me.”
Adrian gritted his teeth. “Connor, I can’t focus.”
“I know.” Connor pulled him closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “Give it to me.”
Adrian froze. “What?”
“Let the mark push into me. Split it. Trust me.”
Adrian hitched a breath. “Connor, if you take too much—”
“Then I break.” Connor bared his teeth. “But I won’t. So give it to me.”
Adrian nodded. The mark surged. He felt the pressure of giving as pain lanced through him, white, electric, vicious, as it drove straight into Connor’s chest. He clenched his jaw as he struggled to control the push.
If it hurts me like this, what the hell is Connor feeling, taking it in?
Connor’s jaw was clenched, his face etched with pain, but still he held on as Adrian gave him what was needed.
The ground shook violently, and Adrian collapsed into Connor’s arms, shaking from head to toe. Connor steadied him, breathing hard. “That’s one.”
Adrian laughed weakly. “We have more?”
“Probably dozens.”
“Lovely.”
The river’s surface churned, flowing sideways toward the valley centre. The fault line beneath it glowed like a wound.
Adrian’s eyes widened. “Connor. If this breaks—”
“The whole valley floods,” Connor finished. “I know.”
Adrian’s knees buckled as the mark pulsed again. Connor caught him, lifting him off the ground. “Lean on me.”
Adrian leaned shakily. The river surged violently, waves crashing as though something beneath pushed at the surface.
Adrian took a deep, pained breath. “It’s trying to pull the water through me. Through the tether.”
Connor slammed a hand over the mark. “Then we block it.” He pressed his palm hard against Adrian’s chest.
A shockwave rippled and Adrian gasped, arching into him. “It’s too much, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” Connor grabbed the sides of Adrian’s face and forced him to meet his gaze. “You’re not facing the Veil. You’re facing me.”
Adrian’s breath hitched. The mark flared, then split. Once again, half the pain drove into Adrian, and half into Connor. Connor staggered but held on, letting the energy surge through him. The river stilled. The fault line dimmed.
Adrian sagged, his strength collapsing. Connor lifted him, one arm tight around his waist, holding him like something precious. “That’s two,” he whispered.
Adrian leaned against him, exhausted. “Fuck.”
Connor pressed his lips to Adrian’s temple. “I’m going to be really annoyed by the end.”
Adrian laughed weakly into his neck.
The Spiral Grove was the oldest part of the valley. Tonight, it was a nightmare. Trees bent inward in unnatural spirals, their leaves glowing a faint blue and their roots pulsing like veins.
Adrian stopped and stared. “This one feels older.”
Connor nodded. “Xiathen said this place predates the clans.”
Adrian swallowed. “It predates the Council too.”
Connor frowned. “Then what—?”
The ground convulsed. A deep, ancient rumble tore through the grove. Adrian clutched Connor’s sleeve. “Connor, something else is waking.”
The mark blazed white.
Connor swore savagely. “What does white mean?”
Adrian shook his head. “I don’t know.”
The fault line split open. A blinding pillar of light shot out, and the grove erupted around them. The earth shook. The trees were twisting and their roots were serpents writhing.
Xiathen’s voice echoed faintly from somewhere far away. “The third and final fault line is the heart of old magic. Stay together, and do not break—” Their voice cut off.
Adrian collapsed forward, feeling the mark tearing through him. He fell to his knees, Connor wrapped in his arms, both of them shaking violently.
The fault line roared.
The mark ruptured.
Their bond snapped taut, and white light swallowed them both.
***
Adrian awoke to find himself with a mouthful of grass. He sat up, spat out the grass, and took stock. He was still in the valley, and close by he could see the lights of Castle Brannigan burning.
Connor lay next to him, his eyes closed. The Spiral Grove had fallen silent, the trees frozen mid-twist, the fault line closed and glowing faintly like a quiet heartbeat.
Adrian brushed Connor’s hair from his forehead with shaking fingers. “Hey,” he whispered. “Open your eyes.”
Connor stirred, his eyelids fluttering. “Adrian,” he breathed.
Adrian exhaled shakily. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Connor grinned weakly. “I scared myself.”
They sat up and looked around.
“Let’s go home,” Connor grumbled. “I’ve had enough of this now.”
Adrian nodded, exhausted but resolute. “Did we stabilise them?”
“For tonight,” Connor murmured. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”
He stood and helped Adrian up, whose heart pounded with exhaustion and something deeper. Something fragile. Fierce. Inevitable.
Together, they walked back toward the castle lights. Behind them, the fault lines pulsed faintly. Not calm, not dormant, but waiting.
The valley had noticed the Kings’ strength.
And the Veil had too.
***
Adrian
The morning after the Fault Line March was too still. And that silence seemed more dangerous than the rifts themselves.
He and Connor sat in front of the fire in the dining room, a glass of whisky sat on the table between them. Around them, castle life went on as people returned to their normal routines. Food needed preparing, fences needed fixing, and children needed schooling.
A soft rustle cut through the firelight as Xiathen stepped into the room. He’d returned home to the Athenaeum last night to liaise with the Triarc and comfort the villagers. Castle Brannigan was not the only uneasy place right now.
The fort was under the watchful eye of Piper, who was doing her best to keep the peace. Cairo and Sallie chuffed softly when they saw them, then went back to their comfortable dozing.