Chapter 14
DAEMON
A week slipped past like water through cupped hands.
I watched Seris change. She didn’t transform overnight, but her incremental improvements in training were beginning to accumulate into something solid.
Her posture shifted first. The defensive hunch and alert eyes melted away, replaced by something straight and unshaking.
She became increasingly grounded in herself and her powers.
Each morning, she disappeared with Lyralei into the forest. Each evening, she returned with eyes a bit clearer, more focused. Her previously uncontrollable power, which had almost disintegrated reality, flowed smoothly without abrasion, fully contained within the boundaries Seris had set.
I felt the difference when she stood near me. Her speech, posture, actions, and power were no longer reflexive but deliberate.
Her improvements affected our soul bond as well. The use of her powers no longer drained years from my life. The bond had stabilized. I felt my body returning to a state I had almost forgotten.
Kael noticed. “You look less dead.”
“Encouraging.”
“For you? Definitely.” He sprawled on the cushions in our shared lodging, weapon maintenance spread across the low table. “Means we might actually survive whatever comes next.”
“Optimism doesn’t suit you.”
“You’re right, and I’m not being optimistic at the moment. I’m simply stating the reality we face. The last time I remember you this healthy was when your father dragged your scrawny ass into my training grounds.” He ran an oiled cloth along his blade with familiar precision.
“I was eight.”
“I know what I said.” Kael set the blade aside as he laughed, reaching for another. “I don’t have a shred of magic in me, but Seris seems different too. I normally see this kind of change in a person only after they’ve finished basic training.”
Kael had trained countless young boys and men.
He turned them into soldiers my father could use to carry out his malicious will.
Kael had seen many of his disciples die in the process, a pain he hid, one only I had witnessed.
Almost all the friends I had trained with under Kael were not dead and buried; they were fighting a war and carrying out missions in which they had no personal stake.
“She’ll be ready,” I declared.
“Hopefully. Even if she isn’t, it’s okay. There have been one or two I’ve trained who were ready for their first mission, and you weren’t one of them.”
He was right. I could still remember my hands shaking uncontrollably and wetting my pants just before my first mission.
“Mm,” I grunted.
Training sessions grew more demanding. Seris stopped returning with only exhaustion written across her features. Both frustration and determination joined the fray. She stopped asking when she would stop simply breathing and started questioning why each exercise mattered.
Progress.
I kept my distance during those hours. Lyralei made it clear my presence disrupted Seris’s focus, and given our connection, I couldn’t argue.
Though I understood, staying away was difficult.
In the past couple of weeks, Seris and I had grown used to each other’s presence, the quiet pull between us.
Watching her walk away each morning was its own kind of torment.
I was an assassin and a soldier. Discipline was second nature to me.
But Seris unraveled that control in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
There was something about her. Her grace, her strength, the way she carried herself with both softness and fire, drew me in completely.
It wasn’t just desire. It was something deeper. More dangerous.
It was becoming an addiction I had very little control over.
Memories of her lingered in ways that made it difficult to focus. The sound of her voice. The shape of her curves. The way she reacted to my touch. The quiet moments where her guard slipped and something real surfaced beneath it all.
Since she was training and needed consistency, Lyralei had forced a conversation neither of us wanted to have. Yesterday, she insisted we pause the progression of whatever this was between us.
That meant distance. Restraint.
And every night, I fought myself to maintain it.
“You okay?” Kael asked.
I snapped back to the present. “I’m not sure,” I replied.
“What do you mean? You feeling the curse again?” Kael’s expression sharpened.
“No. Not the curse. Just… distracted.”
Kael studied me. As my chosen brother and trainer, he could read me better than anyone alive. Normally, nothing slipped past him. This time, he missed it. Good. I wasn’t interested in sharing any of this.
I wasn’t obsessive by nature. But when something mattered to me, I didn’t let go easily.
Kael returned to maintaining his weapons, and I picked up a dagger to do the same. My hands moved automatically, muscle memory taking over, while my thoughts drifted back to her.
I shifted slightly, forcing my focus back where it belonged. This wasn’t the time.
Not yet.
Luckily, the door burst open. There was only one person in this village lacking manners to this extent: Zephyr.
Zephyr had recovered fully by the fifth day, immediately throwing himself into reconnaissance mapping despite Kane's pointed suggestions about rest. The Fae tolerated our presence with patient amusement, though I caught wariness in certain glances.
We were outsiders, guests, perhaps, but not truly home.
Zephyr tested boundaries left and right like only he could.
“Ever heard of knocking? Who raised you?” Kael demanded.
“Oh, stop being so uptight, Kael. This is why you’re without a wife at your advanced age.”
“Excuse me? I’m only thirty-five.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Zephyr moved on immediately, but the look of disbelief on Kael’s face made me want to burst out laughing. I stopped myself.
“Anyway,” Zephyr continued, “I did a perimeter check, and it’s incredible. The defensive magic around the place is at a level I’ve never seen before. Even the King’s bedroom doesn’t have this kind of defensive measure.”
It made sense. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Lyralei and the Fae of the Veil, who had kept Vaelthorne protected and safe for generations under the careful watch of the King’s entire army.
“I couldn’t even find a way to exit. Good thing Lyralei is a friend, because we could easily become her prisoners if she felt like it.”
I could tell Kael didn’t like that. It wasn’t that he thought Lyralei would hurt us, Kael didn’t trust anybody except the three of us.
“It’s fine,” I reassured him. “This is Seris’s home and her people. We can relax.”
Kael thought for a moment and seemed to agree.
Seris belonged here in ways I never would. The realization should have relieved me. Instead, it settled like ice between my ribs. Part of me wished I belonged to Vaelthorne and its peace and joy. Instead, my team and I belonged to the horrors of war.
The rest of weapon maintenance went by in silence.
We were given the okay to return to normalcy.
We put on our equipment. Kael and I sheathed our various daggers into the sheaths stitched or buckled down to our clothing.
Zephyr tested the strings and aim of his crossbow, slinging his arrows over his shoulder.
Kane put on his spiked gauntlets and tested his axe, one that only he could wield successfully.
It was far too heavy for me to swing around, let alone carry the entire time.
Kane carried it with one hand like it was a thin branch.
Just as we finished and began cleaning up, someone knocked on our door. It was a bit early for Seris to come back.
“You see that? That’s how it’s done.” Kael threw his thumb at the door, gesturing toward Zephyr, who didn’t even register the words.
Kane went to the door and opened it. It was Lyralei.
“We have somewhere to go.” She started without greeting.
“Where?”
"The Citadel." Her voice held no preamble. "Seris is already there."
Before we could ask what the Citadel was, she turned and left, expecting us to trail her. We followed Lyralei to the village square and entered a small warehouse. Lyralei waved a hand, and a case of stairs leading underground appeared.
A Citadel underground?
We descended after Lyralei, and the sight took our breaths away. We walked into the biggest cavern we had ever seen, waterfalls flowing from an unknown source in the ceiling into pits that seemed to stretch below endlessly.
The Citadel rose from Vaelthorne's earth like a monument to ambition made architecture.
White stone spiraled upward in defiance of physics, towers braiding together at impossible angles.
Veil-light reminiscent of the Festival of Veiled Light danced across surfaces carved with script so ancient even I couldn't decipher it.
Seris stood at the entrance, marveling at the structure. When she saw us, she took a moment to wave. We walked up to her, following behind Lyralei.
"Hey…" Seris muttered, her eyes spanning the ceiling.
“This is…” Zephyr started.
"Overwhelming?" I supplied.
"Alive." Her fingers tightened around mine. "It feels like it's watching."
"Probably is." I guided her forward gently. "Most things here are more aware than they should be."
“Good instincts,” replied Lyralei.
The interior matched the exterior's grandeur but multiplied it through sheer density of knowledge. Records lined every surface, scrolls, bound volumes, crystallized memories suspended in spheres of light. The air itself hummed with preserved history.
Lyralei brought us into the central chamber, surrounded by artifacts and leather-bound books. She gestured toward seats that materialized from the floor.
Seris sat. I remained standing, positioning myself where I could see the exits. I knew we were safe here with Lyralei, but habits die hard.
"Your progress exceeds expectations." Lyralei addressed Seris. "The Veil responds and comes naturally to you in ways it shouldn't, given your lack of foundational training."