Page 11 of Blood Currents
Press hand against wall.Try to project—something.Anything.But corruption ate the attempt, twisted it backward.Not a call for help but a ward of isolation.Uncle’s gift—magic that betrayed with every use.
Blue light settled near.Wisp hadn’t abandoned me after all.Wisp still fought.Still believed something worth saving existed under the taint.
Curled on floor.Stolen food heavy in stomach.Trying to count ceiling tiles that wouldn’t stay numbered.
By morning, forgot why counting mattered.
But Wisp remained.Small blue light in corruption’s darkness.Proof that not everything Uncle touched stayed poisoned.
Maybe.
If memory could be trusted.
If anything could be trusted.
5
Elio
Later that week after theassembly, after Keane had been labeled a traitor and the whole sham played out before the entire college, I came home from classes to find the family portal servant standing outside my suite.His presence made Echo’s scales flicker nervously to silver.Even my familiar could sense the underlying tension.
“Young Master Lightford,” he said with a bow that managed perfect propriety.“Your parents request your immediate presence at Lightford House.”
Request.Such a delightfully diplomatic way to phrase a command.
“Of course,” I said, the mask sliding into place with practiced ease.Costume on, script in hand.Curtain rising.
My chest hurt.Just last night, I’d held Marigold in my sanctuary, played my violin for her.Now I had to become everything I’d sworn to her I wasn’t.
The dutiful son.The perfect heir.The performance.
But it had to be done.I knew my parents were wrong, were corrupt, but I had to play my part until we could expose the truth.
Only the mask, the skin, fit me too well.
The portal opened with its usual shimmer, depositing me in the entrance hall of our estate.I moved through familiar corridors, each step taking me further from the person Marigold had kissed and back toward the person my parents had crafted.
Echo rode on my shoulder, her crystalline scales ripping through worried colors.
I didn’t know how long the portal master had waited, but I was surprised that as I approached the study, voices drifted through the partially open door.
“—quite remarkable, what Lord Alstone accomplished with the nephew,” an unfamiliar voice was saying.Smooth, cultured, with something underneath that made my skin crawl.“The level of control achieved through those therapeutic sessions was truly impressive.”
I slowed, shock freezing me in place.Lord Alstone had tortured Keane.Torture was remarkable?
“Yes.”Mother’s voice carried interest that made my chest hurt.“Though the boy’s escape has created complications for the broader program.”
I twisted the rings on my fingers.Broader program.They were planning to do this to others.
“Temporary setbacks,” the stranger assured.“The important thing is that the methodology has been proven effective.Imagine what could be accomplished with a more refined application.”
I inhaled like I was center stage, even in the dark.No audience, no spotlight—but the pressure still curled beneath my ribs like a cue I couldn’t ignore.If I broke here, at least I wouldn’t have to make it look pretty.
“The risks—” Father started.
“Are manageable with proper guidance.Your family could achieve unprecedented influence in council politics.The ability to… shape… opposition into cooperation before it becomes problematic.”
Shape opposition.Break them.Control them.Turn them into puppets.
