Page 25 of Blood Currents
I flipped through the rest of the charts.Hundreds of sessions.Hundreds of times they’d brought him here, restrained him, hurt him, violated the very core of who he was, and we’d not even finished our first semester.
“Mari,” Cyrus said gently, reaching out to touch my arm, but I couldn’t stop reading.
Subject shows continued emotional attachment to outside influences.Recommend isolation protocols and enhanced compliance training.Note: Subject’s natural magical resonance with other heirs presents ongoing security risk.
They’d known.They’d known about our connection, about the way our magic worked together, and they’d tried to torture it out of him.
I looked through the pages.My hands shook as I read the notes scrawled in the margins:
Subject’s natural magical resonance with other heirs remains problematic.Artificial isolation procedures show 67 percent effectiveness.
Note: Subject’s magic responds strongest to emotional connection—recommend severing all interpersonal bonds to ensure compliance.
Session 23: Introduced compound designed to create magical revulsion to proximity with others.Subject showed distress but adaptation within acceptable parameters.
Session 31: Subject continues to resist isolation conditioning.Consider enhancing dosage or implementing permanent connection severance.
“They knew,” I whispered, my voice breaking.“They knew about our magical harmony, about the way our power works together, and they specifically tried to destroy it.”
Elio read over my shoulder, his face going pale.“They were trying to make him unable to connect with us.To make our magic feel wrong to him.”
“Which means,” Cyrus said slowly, understanding dawning in his voice, “that our connection—our magical resonance—might be exactly what he needs to heal.They tried to break it because it threatened their control.”
I stared at the chart, pieces clicking together in my mind.“The corruption wasn’t just about weakening him.It was about isolating him.Making sure he could never work with other heirs again.”
“Because together, we’re stronger than they are,” Elio said.
“So we heal him together,” I decided, folding the chart carefully and slipping it into my bag alongside the mysterious vial.“All of us.The way our magic is supposed to work.”
“These are ley lines,” I said, my voice hollow as I traced the energy maps with a trembling finger on another chart.“They’ve been tampered with—rerouted.This isn’t natural.”
Cyrus stepped closer, his flames flaring hotter as he studied the charts.The blue edges deepened to something almost violent.“These locations… they match the vampire attacks.Every single one.”
“Project Cornerstone was never just about Keane,” Elio said, his voice sharp with quiet fury that I’d never heard from him before.“They’ve been poisoning wellsprings.Experimenting at multiple sites.”
I knelt beside the examination table, my necromancy recoiling from the lingering traces of agony that clung to the metal.The dead things that should have whispered to me here were silent, as if even they couldn’t bear witness to what had happened in this room.
One chart lay open, showing magical readings labeledNatural Harmony vs.Induced Compliance.Below it, graphs tracked the systematic destruction of someone’s ability to think freely, to feel deeply, to be human.
“They’ve done this to others,” I said, bile rising in my throat.“Keane wasn’t the only one.Look, Subject A-1 through A-12.Maybe more.”
The weight of it crushed down on me.Twelve people, at least, who’d been brought to this room.Twelve lives destroyed in the name of “stability” and “control.”
And one additional note stuck out to me: “Incident Report 4.2: Guard Diana Parker requested restricted Project Cornerstone access.Request denied.”
Cyrus turned away, his fists clenched so tightly I could see flames between his fingers.The muscles in his jaw worked like he was chewing on rage.I’d come to rely on this part of him—solid, fierce, and utterly unafraid to show his fury.
Elio’s illusions flickered violently before he reined them back in, his perfect composure cracking around the edges.For just a moment, I caught the strain behind his mask—the way his magic flared and then snapped back under tight control.His hands trembled, and his face was carefully blank, too carefully.Like if he let anything slip, it would all come pouring out.
Lately, he’d been retreating more, slipping back into that polished heir persona I thought he’d left behind.And standing here, with Cyrus’s steady presence so close beside me, I realized I’d been leaning on him more than Elio.Maybe because Cyrus never hid how he felt—not from me, not from anyone.
Elio still felt like a mirror some days, reflecting back whatever the world needed from him.And I hated that I understood it.Because wasn’t I doing the same thing lately?Wearing a braver face than I felt while burying my fears beneath action.Maybe we weren’t so different after all.
“We need to document everything,” I said, pulling out my phone even though my hands wouldn’t stop trembling.The screen kept blurring as tears I refused to shed gathered in my eyes.“The council can’t spin this if we have proof.”
Cyrus moved closer in a silent show of solidarity.Elio didn’t speak, but when I glanced his way, his expression had shifted: more focused, more furious.Whatever fractured emotions he was hiding, I saw resolve burning underneath.
Keane had survived this.Somehow, impossibly, he’d endured months of this horror and still retained enough of himself to remember, to fight back, to trust me with the truth.
