Page 26 of Blood Currents
I wasn’t going to let it be for nothing.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, the words carrying the weight of a vow.“We’re not letting them get away with this.Not with what they did to Keane.Not with what they’re still doing to others.Not ever again.”
The wellspring pulsed beneath us, and for just a moment, I could have sworn I felt it agree.
11
Marigold
We climbed the stairs toKeane’s dorm suite in tense silence, the weight of what we’d found in the lab pressing against my ribs as surely as the folded charts hidden under my jacket.The vial in my bag might as well have been lead.It felt heavier with every step.
“He needs to see this,” I said as we reached his door.“The evidence.Proof that his memories are real.”
“Are you sure?”Elio asked quietly.“Seeing documentation of his own torture… it might make things worse before they get better.”
“He’s been questioning his own sanity,” Cyrus said, “wondering what’s real and what his uncle planted.This will give him something solid to hold on to.”
I pressed my palm to the wood.Keane’s magical signature pulsed faintly on the other side—still twisted but stronger than it had been this morning.Fighting back.
“Keane?”I called softly.“It’s us.All of us.”
“Mari?”he asked.“Real?”
“Real,” I promised.
The wards clicked open.He sat on the couch, a light blue blanket wrapped around him.He was pale and thinner than I remembered but more focused.The dark veins beneath his skin still pulsed but less violently—as if their grip had loosened.
“You look better,” I said, sitting beside him.Cyrus stayed close, solid and steady as always.Elio lingered farther back, his illusions flickering faintly around his hands—always precise, always controlled.
“Feel better.A little.”He studied our faces.“You found something.I can see it in your expressions.”
“We found the lab,” Elio said gently.“The place where your uncle took you.”
Keane went very still.“You saw it?The room with the tiles?”
“Forty-seven tiles in the ceiling,” I said, pulling out my phone to show him the photos we’d taken.“The examination table.The restraint points.All of it.”
His hands shook as he took the phone, scrolling through the images with growing recognition and horror.“This is real.This actually happened.I’m not… I didn’t imagine…”
“You didn’t imagine any of it,” Cyrus said.“Your uncle documented everything.Every session, every injection, every…” He stopped, his jaw clenching.
“Every way they tried to break you,” I finished softly.I pulled out the folded charts, spreading them on the bed between us.“Look.”
Keane’s eyes widened as he read the clinical notes describing his systematic torture.“Subject A-3,” he whispered.“That’s what they called me.Not Keane.Not even my name.”
“But here,” I said, pointing to the resonance disruption protocols.“This is the important part.Look what they were really trying to do.”
He read aloud, his voice growing stronger with each word.“Subject’s natural magical resonance with other heirs remains problematic.Recommend severing all interpersonal bonds to ensure compliance.” He looked up at us, understanding beginning to dawn in his eyes.“They weren’t just torturing me.They were trying to make it impossible for me to connect with you.”
“Which means,” Elio said, his illusions flickering like pale starlight, “our connection might be exactly what you need to heal.”
I pulled out the vial, setting it carefully on the nightstand.“We think this is what they were injecting into you.It feels wrong—alien.”
Keane leaned closer, instinctively curious despite the strain.“It’s… organic.But not human.The magical signature is…” He broke off, pressing his temples.
“We’ll figure it out later,” I said softly.“For now, we help you heal.”
“Together,” Cyrus said.The blue threads in his flames glowed brighter, casting light across his strong, steady features.
