Chapter 16
SERIS
Lyralei stopped before a dwelling I’d passed a dozen times without truly seeing. Vines wrapped the structure in living lattice with blossoms so thick they obscured the door. Yet as Lyralei approached, the flowers parted like a curtain drawing back, revealing carved wood beneath.
"She warded it to recognize bloodline," Lyralei said softly. "I maintained the protections, but only I would be allowed to enter if you were not present."
My hand trembled as I reached for the door. The wood felt warm under my palm, almost alive, humming with familiar magic that made my chest ache. It swung open at my touch.
Inside, everything remained exactly as my mother had left it.
Sunlight filtered through crystalline skylights, illuminating a workspace that defied the passage of years.
No dust coated the surfaces. No cobwebs draped the corners.
The air itself felt preserved, holding the faint scent of herbs and ink and something indefinably her that punched through my composure like a blade.
Shelves lined three walls, packed with books and scrolls organized in systems I recognized from childhood.
They were sorted by theory, by application, by danger level.
A workbench dominated the center space, its surface crowded with tools I remembered her using at home from time to time, silver scribing implements, crystal focusing lenses, measuring instruments whose purpose I’d never understood.
Objects throughout the room hummed faintly, resonating with residual magic. Her magic. Woven into everything she’d touched.
"She worked here in secret," Lyralei said from the doorway, giving me space to explore. "Developing techniques to hide and protect those who remained. Every child smuggled to safety. Every family relocated before discovery. She made it possible."
I moved deeper into the workshop, fingers trailing across surfaces that still held her presence.
I found a cup beside the only chair in the workshop, tea long since evaporated, but the vessel positioned exactly where she’d set it down.
A shawl draped over the chair back. Reading glasses folded atop an open journal.
As if she’d simply stepped out and would return any moment.
The journals drew me like gravity. Dozens of them, leather-bound and filled with her precise handwriting. I pulled one from the shelf at random and opened it to a middle page.
, the southern territories grow more hostile daily. Lost three families this month to organized hunts. The children are terrified, and I cannot promise their parents that safety exists anywhere the kingdom's reach extends. But I will keep trying. I must keep trying.
My throat closed. I flipped through more pages, scanning entries that cataloged her desperate work. Lists of families. Safe houses. Evacuation routes. Failed attempts and narrow escapes.
Protection spells dominated the workspace. Diagrams covered entire wall sections, complex runic arrays designed to conceal, redirect, and shield. She’d devoted her final years to building safeguards for people she’d never met, children she’d never see grow up.
Saving everyone except herself.
I pulled another journal, this one focused purely on technical developments, rune combinations, binding theories, dimensional anchoring techniques. The notation grew denser, more desperate, as if she’d raced against time to record everything she knew.
One page stopped me cold.
The runes. Precise diagrams of intricate patterns designed to channel Veil magic into… a weapon.
My fingers traced the lines she’d drawn, and recognition slammed through me with physical force. These runes. I knew these runes.
They’d carved them into my skin.
Terror locked my body in place. The journal shook in my hands as I stared at my mother’s careful notation, her theoretical exploration of forced channeling and magical slavery. She’d studied these techniques. Documented them. Understood exactly how they functioned.
The king had used her own research to torture me.
"Seris?" Lyralei’s voice reached me from far away. "What is it?"
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Could only stare at the diagrams that matched the scars burning beneath my clothes.
Lyralei crossed to me, her hand gentle on my shoulder. "Seris, tell me, "
I shoved the journal at her, pointing with a trembling finger. The targeting sigils they’d carved before the ritual.
“They carved this sigil in me before they tried to channel my power. It was different from the others. The moment it was in my skin, it disappeared. As if it seeped into my skin and into my bones.”
Lyralei’s face went white.
"Show me the spot," she said, voice hard with something I’d never heard from her before, fear.
I turned, lifting my shirt to reveal my chest, and pointed to the spot.
Lyralei waved her hand over the spot, white light illuminating the tips of her fingers. The sigil reappeared. I heard her sharp intake of breath.
"This shouldn't exist," Lyralei whispered. "Lyanna discovered these during her travels, never tested them. These are runes that connect to the Veil. Once Veil magic is channeled into these runes,”
Lyralei turned white.
“The knowledge should have been contained in this workshop, specifically to prevent this kind of application." Her fingers hovered over my scars without touching. "How did Aeron, "
"Does it matter?" Bitterness flooded my voice. "He has them. He used them. He tried to turn me into exactly what she feared most."
"It matters because these aren't just binding runes." Lyralei grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to face her. "These create a permanent connection between the conduit and the weapon. A tracking mechanism. If Aeron's mages completed the ritual framework, "
The explosion hit before she finished speaking.
The entire workshop shuddered. Crystals shattered. Books tumbled from shelves. Through the windows, I saw a plume of violet fire erupt from Vaelthorne's eastern edge, corruption-dark and wrong against the settlement's gentle light.
Village alarms screamed to life.
Lyralei's expression shifted into something terrifying. Her gentle smile was replaced with ancient fury that made the air itself recoil. "They found us. They followed the connection." She grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the door. "We have to evacuate now. Get everyone out before, "
Another explosion. Closer this time. The ground bucked beneath our feet.
We burst from the workshop into chaos.
Soldiers poured through Vaelthorne's streets like a plague. Royal colors mixed with unfamiliar armor, mercenaries hired in bulk to supplement the king's forces. They cut down anyone in their path: Fae fleeing with children, craftspeople grabbing weapons, healers trying to organize defense.
Blood painted the white stone streets.
I watched a family I'd shared meals with die together, parents covering their daughter's body until blades found them all.
Saw the baker who'd taught me to braid bread murdered while defending his shop.
A musician I'd danced with during the festival fell clutching his throat, music silenced forever.
They weren't soldiers. They were people. My people.
And they died because of me.
"Move!" Lyralei shoved me toward the central plaza, where Daemon and his team fought back-to-back against overwhelming numbers. Zephyr's wind magic deflected arrows while Kael and Kane held the ground, their coordination perfect even in catastrophe.
Daemon saw us coming. Shadows exploded outward, carving space through the attacking forces. "The eastern passage!" he shouted. "Get civilians out!"
"They're everywhere!" Kane’s hammer crushed the skull of a mercenary who dared to come within his reach.
“We need to split up!” Kael grabbed Zephyr’s shoulder. “Hold them back here! Zephyr and I’ll go make sure the civilians get out safe!”
Kane and Daemon didn’t reply, but began to move forward into enemy lines, forcing retreat. Zephyr and Kael, carried by Zephyr’s magic, headed off to the eastern passage.
A fresh wave of soldiers crashed into the plaza. Not advancing randomly. Moving with purpose.
Converging on me.
"The girl!" someone shouted. "Take the girl alive!"
Lyralei's magic flared, reality itself bending as she warped space between us and the advancing forces. But more kept coming. Too many. An organized assault planned to overwhelm through sheer numbers.
"They're not here for conquest," I realized aloud. "They're here for me."
"Then we deny them." Daemon materialized beside me, shadows wreathing his form like living armor. Blood streaked his face, not his own.
Lyralei deflected incoming arrows with casual gestures, but strain showed in her luminous features. Somehow, she was fighting back, defending those in sight, and transporting those who reached the eastern passage simultaneously. "We need time to, "
A building collapsed, crushed by concentrated magical bombardment. Screams cut short as stone buried the people inside.
My hands clenched. The Veil stirred in response, hungry and vast, ready to erase everything in reach.
"Don't." Daemon's voice cut through the rising power. "Not here."
He was right. I knew he was right. But watching my people die while I stood paralyzed by fear of my own magic felt like torture worse than anything Blackstone Keep had offered.
Zephyr, carried by his wind, returned next to us. "They've breached the southern quarter. Casualties mounting fast. We can't hold them."
"We must!" Lyralei's expression hardened with terrible resolve.
"We just have to give the others time to reach the deep Veil anchors in the eastern passage.
They have been specifically created to serve as escape routes in a situation like this.
Once they're through, any magical connection will be severed, and Aeron's forces won't be able to follow. "
"And us?" Kael asked, already knowing the answer.
"We fight." Lyralei's magic swelled, ancient and powerful, beautiful in its fury. "We buy them time. Whatever it costs."
“Kane. Zephyr. Go help Kael.” Kane picked up a spear as he began to take off in Kael’s direction. Zephyr blasted a volley of arrows before using his magic to return to Kael with Kane in tow.
The soldiers closed in, a tightening noose of steel and sorcery. They knew what they were doing. Knew how to coordinate, how to overwhelm, how to leverage numbers against superior individual power.
They'd planned this. Studied Vaelthorne's defenses. Waited for the perfect moment to strike.
Because they could track me. Because my mother's own research, twisted and perverted, had given them a beacon leading straight to the last sanctuary of my people.
I'd brought this death to Vaelthorne's door.
And now I had to face it.
"Together," Daemon said, positioning himself at my side. Not in front. Beside. As if we were equals instead of weapon and wielder.
Lyralei raised her hands. Kane and Kael readied weapons. Zephyr's wind began to howl.
The soldiers charged.
And Vaelthorne burned.