CHAPTER THIRTY
As I moved through the subterranean grandeur of the Umbral, my mind lingered on Talon’s words. I wanted to believe him—I had to believe him—yet the cold logic of politics gnawed at me. A moon cycle, perhaps two, before Xylos saw the outside of that cell.
Was I truly supposed to just walk these halls, breathing air that he could not, while his soul withered in the dark?
I turned a corner, my boots silent on the polished floor, when my eyes snagged on a tucked-away chamber. It was not the usual violet or cobalt glow of the city, but a warm, amber light that spilled into the hallway, carrying the intoxicating scent of crushed mint and damp earth.
Excitement fluttered through me as my eyes scanned the large sanctuary before me.
Vials of swirling, iridescent liquids lined the shelves, some bubbling with a soft magic that cast dancing shadows against the walls.
Bunches of dried herbs hung from the rafters, their scents weaving together in a heady tapestry.
At the center of it all stood a woman, her back to me, her movements gentle as she ground silver-flecked petals in a stone mortar.
She looked to be roughly my mother’s age, with silver-threaded hair pinned loosely at her nape. I could almost see my mother in the tilt of her head and the way she hummed a tuneless melody to herself.
“It is polite to enter, little bird, rather than hover in the draft,” she said, her voice airy.
I stepped into the warm light, my cheeks flushing. “I apologize. I have always had an interest in natural medicine. Your collection… it is extraordinary.”
The woman turned, her eyes bright with kindness. “A mortal who knows her way around a tincture? Rare in these depths.”
I offered a tentative smile and held out my hand. “My name is Kaelia. Back in Haelen, I was a forager.”
She took my hand in hers and gave it a soft shake. “I am Leona and I am the Healer here.”
I let my hand fall, my gaze immediately drifting to the assorted glassware and the yellowed parchment pinned to the walls, detailed with the intricate properties of plants I had never seen.
“Browse as you like,” Leona murmured, returning to her mortar, “but do not touch the blue glass unless you wish to sleep for a decade.”
I licked my lips in anticipation, moving through the room like a ghost in a dream.
My fingers brushed across the polished wood of the cabinets, collecting the fine, fragrant dust of dried leaves.
I stopped to admire a flared-base glass, watching as a lilac liquid swirled inside, guided by an unseen current.
A sudden flash of light drew my eyes upward to a glass incubator.
Inside, a large plant sat in a bed of rich, dark soil.
Every few heartbeats, its stem would expand and burst into a brilliant flash, sending thousands of glowing motes floating through the glass like tiny spirits before they vanished back into the earth.
It looked exactly like the Garden of Thrynn from my dreams. I squinted, leaning in as if I could find the secret of my own visions hidden in the soil.
“Remind you of something?”
I straightened, blinking. “The Garden of Thrynn. I have seen it… in a way.”
Leona smiled softly. “We had this species harvested and cross-bred with seaweed from the Umbral side of the Thrynn river. Marvellous, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I breathed. “What is its purpose?”
“A natural light,” she stated. “Soon, the Shadow Forgers will craft stone bases for them. They will be bedside lamps for those who find the darkness too heavy.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
The light from the incubator followed me as I drifted toward a board pinned with yellowed, jagged pages of lore. My eyes flicked over the pages before landing on a large hand-painted portrait that took up the majority of the stone wall beside it.
I traced a finger down the edge of the frame, feeling the texture of the oil. “Who is this?”
“That is Meliory,” she said, and I did not miss the shadow of grief that flickered across her face. “He was the soul behind this room. Everything I know, I learned from him.”
“Where is he now?” I tilted my head, studying the kind eyes of the man in the photo.
She sighed, looking toward the dark stone of the ceiling. “We do not know. We believe he surrendered himself to the elements long ago. Some souls find the weight of the world too heavy to carry.”
I frowned, the thought of such a loss heavy in the air. To change the subject, I gestured to a jar of dried, pale caps. “I know these. I harvested them for a friend who fell ill.”
Leona lit up, her eyes dancing. “Indeed! They are remarkably helpful for the fevers of mortals. How is she? Is the treatment working?”
I looked away, the image of my home flickering in my mind like a dying candle.
“I am not sure. I have not seen her since…” I trailed off.
She offered me a sympathetic smile and reached for a bundle of glowing green herbs on her workbench.
“Come here,” she commanded softly.
I approached, my curiosity warring with a prickling caution.
She took a single, shimmering leaf and held it against a silver-backed mirror on the wall before holding out her other hand. “Give me your hand.”
Before I could ask why, she took a small silver pin and pricked the tip of my finger. I gasped as a single bead of crimson bloomed. She pressed my finger to the center of the mirror, the blood smearing against the cold glass.
“Watch,” she whispered.
The herb began to glow with a fierce, emerald intensity, feeding off the heat of my blood. The mirror’s surface rippled like water as a portal opened—not a doorway, but a window seen through the eyes of the earth itself.
My eyes widened and the urge to reach out and touch the shimmering surface was almost overwhelming. “How?”
“It is the sight of the Veythar,” she murmured, her hand settling on my elbow. “We follow the veins of the world. They see all that climbs, all that breathes upon the soil. Now… guide me.”
I closed my eyes, summoning the scent of salt air and the sound of the Isvale markets.
My eyes flew open as a phantom current whipped through the room, causing my hair to lash around my face.
The vision in the mirror blurred, a dizzying blur of green and gray as we flew across the landscape at a terrifying speed, until it slammed to a halt.
A blue door with a raven carved into the wood.
The eye of the vine climbed the weathered stone of the house, creeping up to a window on the second floor. On the windowsill sat a sleek raven, its feathers iridescent in the moonlight. And there, tucked into the window seat, was Hera.
She was reading, her face no longer the translucent, sickly white of the dying. There was a flush of health in her cheeks, a steadiness to her hands that brought a rush of relief so powerful it felt like a sob.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my eyes stinging with tears as the mirror faded back to cold silver.
“You are welcome, child,” she smiled and reached beneath her counter to pull out a small leather satchel. “Now, I recall you saying you are a forager. I do not get many helpful hands when it comes to scavenging around here. Would you like to assist me?”
A rush of excitement coursed through me as I took the bag from her hands. I peeked inside, noting the clean shears and vials. “Absolutely.”
Her eyes squinted due to the height of her smile. “What a dear. I will be looking for you at sunrise, Kaelia.”
I offered her a small dip. “I look forward to it, Lady Leona. Thank you for allowing me in your space.”
She waved me off with a smile. “Go get some rest.”
I nodded and left the chamber with the satchel strap slung over my shoulder. I was much too wired to sleep. The relief of seeing Hera healthy had set a wildfire of energy in my veins.
I did not head for my bed, instead I walked for the exit, drawn by the distant flow of the glowing river.
When I stepped into the wide courtyard, I found a space polished into an expanse of mirror-dark stone that reflected the bioluminescent glow from the river. I slowed as I caught sight of a small gathering at its center.
Eladaria stood at the heart of the circle, tall and impossibly poised. Her silhouette was etched sharply against the gloom, defined by a single strand of living shadow that spiraled from her fingertips with effortless obedience.
Surrounding her, a dozen young Veythar struggled to mimic her grace, their small hands tugging at wisps of darkness that frayed and dissolved before any true shape could take hold.
As if sensing my gaze, Eladaria turned her head before I had even stilled at the courtyard’s edge. Her eyes locked onto mine, and a gentle smile curved her lips.
“Lady Kaelia,” she called out. “Please, join us.”
My stomach dropped, and I bit down on my bottom lip to stop the instinctive no from escaping. I shook my head, my fingers tightening around the leather strap of my bag. “Oh, no. I could not. I was merely heading to the river.”
Eladaria’s smile deepened, a spark of quiet amusement shimmering in her gaze. “Nonsense. You would do well to practice your newly acquired abilities, rather than letting them fester.”
A rush of heat climbed my neck, followed by a cold, sliding wave of dread. Did she know? Had she felt the moment I had lost myself to the dark and struck Neya?
The children’s eyes, wide and expectant, fixed on me. Their tiny fingers wiggled with excitement, their innocent faces holding no malice, only unfiltered wonder.
“It is quite late,” I murmured, glancing at the shifting violet shadows.
“Veythar children do not sleep many hours, dear,” Eladaria said, her tone wistful. “Our rhythm does not follow the same essence as the human one. Come. Just one drill.”
I drew a long, grounding breath and gave in. I moved toward a stone pillar, carefully setting down my foraging satchel. The silver shears clinked softly against the glass vials inside as I moved into the open circle.
They began with the simplest of drills. Eladaria’s instructions were patient and measured.
First, a spark of shadow. Then, a sphere.
Then, a cube. Around her, the children strained with fierce concentration, conjuring translucent wisps that wavered like breath on a winter window before vanishing.
Their giggles filled the courtyard, bright and unguarded.
“Now, Lady Kaelia,” Eladaria said softly. “Reach inward. Find the stillness. Find the control.”
I closed my eyes with a weary sigh, trying to ignore the memory of the cold wellspring that had erupted in the Gauntlet. I reached for spirits I was not sure would answer, intending to draw only a thin, harmless thread.
My eyes snapped open at the sensation of a cool mist tickling my fingertips.
A serpentine spiral twisted upon my palms, its wispy tail wrapping around my wrist in an intimate caress as it twirled.
A dozen or so wispy bodies formed a shape much larger than I was intending, their soft, choral sighs the only sound in the courtyard.
They pulsed with a violet-black light, a living lace of shadow that felt… safe.
I looked up at the sudden silence and saw only open mouths and wide, star-struck eyes.
“Whoa…” one boy whispered, his own small shadow flickering out as he forgot to hold it.
The form dissipated from my hand the moment my attention wavered, and I clenched my fingers as the cool air took its place.
“Again! Do it again, Lady Kaelia!” a girl cried out, bouncing on her toes.
Eladaria moved silently, her earlier amusement replaced by measured intensity. There was pride in her gaze, yes, but also a sharp calculation that made my skin crawl. “Try again, Kaelia. Think of something different. Protection.”
I closed my eyes again, drawing in a deep breath. I reached toward the cold, infinite reservoir and guided it carefully, imagining not a spear but a barrier. I thought of the dense rock of the Umbral, the steady heartbeat of the mountain.
When my eyes opened, a swirling vortex of obsidian energy hung before me, pulsing with deep violet light. It rotated slowly—a compact sphere of defensive magic. It absorbed the bioluminescent glow rather than reflecting it, deepening the twilight.
The children drew a quiet, collective breath, their small bodies packed close in the stone courtyard, the faint glow of moss-light catching in wide, unblinking eyes.
Even Eladaria’s face softened.
“Magnificent,” she breathed, her voice a mere whisper.
The shield dissipated slowly, leaving the courtyard bright once more.
“Thank you,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips as I looked over the bobbing heads of the children.
“Lady Kaelia, you must teach us!” a small body shouted, and a chorus of affirmations followed. I almost giggled at their unbridled delight.
“I will organize a time with Lady Eladaria,” I said with a nod. “Maybe you can teach me something too.”
Quiet laughter and babbles broke out from the group. I turned from them to face Eladaria, dipping my head formally. “I must return. Thank you for your guidance, Lady Eladaria.”
She returned the gesture with a graceful tilt of her head. “Rest well, child. And remember, Kaelia. You are gifted because you are extraordinary. Fear will not grant mastery. Acceptance will.”
I nodded, turning from the courtyard with quick steps. I retrieved my satchel and kept my head down as I navigated the winding halls.