Chapter 15
XAVIAN
The sun hung high that morning, cutting through the usual haze of clouds like a blade through fog, and for once the city didn't feel like it was drowning in its own shadows.
I'd woken to the light slanting through the warehouse's cracked windows, turning the dust motes into drifting sparks, and the warmth of it seeped into the room in a way that made the air feel less stagnant, less like the weight of my curse pressing down.
It had been weeks since a day like this, clear and bright without the rain's constant murmur, and I found myself staring out at the industrial sprawl beyond, the rusted silos and overgrown lots bathed in gold.
Morgan was still asleep on the cot, her breathing steady, one arm flung over her eyes as if to block out the unfamiliar brightness.
Watching her like that stirred something I didn't care to examine too closely, a quiet pull that had nothing to do with Virelya and everything to do with how she'd carved out space in this grim routine of ours.
Things had eased between us in the days since our last real talk, not into anything soft or trusting, but into a rhythm that didn't grate as much.
She no longer flinched when I entered the room, and her sarcasm had taken on a sharper edge, almost playful at times, like she was testing boundaries without pushing for a fight.
I'd stopped looming over her every move, giving her space to pace or read the few tattered books I'd scavenged, and in return, she hadn't tried to bolt or turn a shard of glass into a weapon.
But she was still trapped here because of me.
The tension simmered under it all, a reminder that this wasn't friendship or anything close.
Still, the sun outside felt like an opportunity, a chance to test what I'd been mulling over since she pressed me about her dreams and those echoes she carried.
If she had some tie to Velrith, some latent spark, maybe I could coax it out in a small way, see if it meant anything practical.
Not a full crossing, not yet, but something basic, controlled.
A rune, perhaps, traced in the dirt to see if she could sense its shape or stir its energy.
If it worked, it might give us both answers.
If it didn't, well, at least the day wouldn't be wasted in this box.
I nudged her foot with my boot, keeping my voice low. "Wake up. We're going outside."
She stirred, blinking against the light, her hair a tangled mess around her face as she sat up. For a second, confusion clouded her eyes, then suspicion sharpened them. "Outside? As in, fresh air and not these four walls? What's the catch, warden?”
I ignored the jab, tossing her the jacket I'd brought back a few days ago, a worn thing that fit her well enough. "No catch. But you're not running off. We'll stay close, somewhere I can keep an eye on things. I want to try something. See if those sensations of yours amount to more than dreams."
She caught the jacket, slipping it on as she stood, her movements fluid despite the wariness in her posture. "Try something. Right. Because that's not vague at all. At least tell me what’s in it for me?"
I met her gaze, holding it steady. "Sunlight. And runes. Basic ones. If you're connected like I think, you might be able to feel them, maybe even wake a spark. Nothing dangerous. We're not diving into the Shardline today."
She arched an eyebrow, but there was a flicker of interest there, buried under the skepticism.
"Runes. Like the carvings on the door? Fine, I'll bite.
Better than rotting in here." She pulled on her shoes, and I could see the shift in her, that reluctant curiosity pulling her along, much like it had during our talks.
It made her seem more alive, less like the defiant captive and more like someone chasing her own answers.
We stepped out into the day, the warehouse door groaning behind us.
The air hit me first, crisp and carrying the faint scent of warmed metal from the nearby lots, mixed with the green tang of weeds pushing through cracked pavement.
No rain to muffle sounds, no gray veil over everything.
The sun warmed my skin, chasing away the chill that had settled in my bones, and for a moment, I almost forgot the blade at my side.
Morgan paused just outside, tilting her face up to the light, eyes closed as if savoring it, and I watched the way the sun caught in her hair, turning stray strands to copper.
She looked freer like that, less haunted, and it tugged at me in a way I hadn't expected, a quiet awareness of her that went beyond suspicion or necessity.
I led her to a secluded spot not far off, an overgrown lot hemmed in by chain-link fences and abandoned machinery.
Tall grasses swayed in the breeze, dotted with wildflowers that had no business blooming in this decay, and the ground was soft underfoot, patches of bare earth exposed where the weeds thinned.
It was controlled, easy to watch, with no easy escapes and plenty of space to work without drawing eyes.
"Here," I said, stopping at a clear patch of dirt. "This'll do."
She glanced around, arms crossed but with a hint of that spark in her eyes. "Charming. So, runes. Show me what you mean, oh mysterious one."
I ignored her again and crouched down, drawing a small knife from my pocket and using the tip to etch a simple shape into the earth, a basic ward rune.
It was nothing potent, just enough to test if she could sense its flow or nudge it awake.
The lines came easily, curved and intersecting, and as I traced them, I felt the faint pulse of energy stirring, a thread of the Shardline's echo bleeding through.
"This is a simple holding rune," I explained.
"It channels intent into a barrier. Copy it with your finger, follow the lines exactly.
Don't force it. Just feel for any pull, any warmth or hum.
If there's something in you, it'll respond. "
She knelt beside me, closer than she usually got without tension coiling between us, and studied the rune with a focused intensity that surprised me.
"Alright, magic 101. Let's see if I'm more than your average mortal.
" Her voice had that edge of banter, sharper now in the open air, but there was an undercurrent of genuine interest, like she was half-expecting it to work and half-bracing for disappointment.
She reached out, her fingers hovering over the lines, tracing the air slowly at first, before mimicking the curves with a precision in the dirt next to my example.
I watched her, my own hand resting near the rune, ready to guide if needed.
The sun beat down on us, warming the earth and drawing out the scent of soil, and for stretches, it felt almost easy, being out here with her like this, the warehouse's gloom left behind.
"Slower on the intersection," I murmured, my voice low.
"That's where the energy binds. Feel for it. "
She adjusted, her brow furrowing in concentration, and then her eyes widened slightly, a soft intake of breath escaping her.
"Wait... there's something. Like a vibration, under my skin.
Not strong, but... yeah, it's there." Excitement crept into her tone, unexpected and bright, chasing away the usual sarcasm.
She drew another, faster this time, and a faint shimmer rippled along the lines, the air above the rune thickening just enough to push back when I tested it with my palm.
It wasn't much, a barrier no stronger than a stiff breeze, but it was real, stirred by her, and her alone.
Surprise hit me first, followed by a wariness that tightened my chest, because this confirmed it, that tie to Velrith running deeper than echoes or dreams. But underneath that, something warmer stirred, an unwilling fondness at seeing her light up like that, her face alive with the thrill of it, as if she'd unlocked a piece of herself she'd always suspected was there.
It made her seem less like a puzzle to solve and more like someone sharing this fractured path with me, and I didn't want to name that feeling, didn't want it complicating things further.
She laughed then, a short, genuine sound that cut through the quiet, looking up at me with eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "Holy shit, did you see that? It actually worked. Okay, that was... cool. Weird, but cool. Do it again? Show me how to make it stronger?"
The ease of it unsettled me, how natural it felt to nod and lean in closer, our shoulders brushing as I adjusted the rune slightly, adding a secondary line for her to follow.
"Try incorporating this. It amplifies the bind.
" But as she reached forward, a strand of her hair fell across her face, obscuring her view, and without thinking, I lifted my hand to tuck it behind her ear, my fingers grazing her skin lightly, the touch lingering a fraction longer than it should have.
The contact was charged, tense in its quiet way, her warmth against my cool fingers sending a jolt through me that had nothing to do with magic.
She stilled for a heartbeat, her gaze flicking to mine, something unspoken passing between us, heavy and aware, before she looked away, clearing her throat and focusing back on the rune.
I pulled my hand back, the moment hanging there, restrained but impossible to ignore, a reminder of how the lines between us were blurring in ways I hadn't planned.
We worked like that for a while longer, the banter flowing easier now, her questions coming quick and pointed, my answers less guarded than before.
"So if I mess up the curve, does it explode or just fizzle?
" she'd ask, and I'd snort, guiding her hand over the dirt without quite touching, showing her the flow.
It felt cooperative, almost friendly in those stretches, like we were building something together rather than circling each other in suspicion.
By the time the sun started dipping lower, casting long shadows across the lot, she'd managed to wake the rune twice more, each time stronger, her excitement building into a quiet confidence that mirrored my own growing sense of possibility.
As we headed back to the warehouse, the air cooling around us, I felt the shift settling in, not just in what she'd done with the rune, but in us.
It wasn't trust, not yet, and she was still technically my captive after all.
But there was a partnership forming, reluctant and real, a sense that we might navigate this mess side by side.
And as she walked beside me, still buzzing from the small victory, I couldn't deny the fascination pulling at me, darker and deeper than before, drawing me toward her in ways that felt as inevitable as the Shardline itself.