Page 39 of Veinblood
Her eyes widen. “What kind of power?”
“She is Stormvein.” The hint of pride in Sacha’s voice brings my head around to stare at him.
“Then yes,” she says, with more conviction now. “Between the three of us, we might be able to do it.”
“What would we need?”
“Time to prepare. The ritual, while simple enough in theory, is dangerous in application. And a focus point—something with a strong connection to Meridian to guide our passage.” Her eyes move back to me, and I can almost see her coming to a decision. “I have something that might work.” She rises and moves to an old chest set in one corner of the room. When she returns, she’s holding a small pouch, which she hands to me.
I open it cautiously, and tip it up to empty its contents onto my palm. The silver bracelet spills free, exactly as I remember from childhood—a silver band with intricate engravings.
“You still have it,” I whisper.
“Do you remember that night in the group home? There was a storm. You refused to go indoors, and the lightning was striking the ground around you. I thought it was acting as a conductor, that the lightning was attracted to the possible residue of power in it.”
I nod, fastening the bracelet around my wrist. The moment the clasp closes, the metal grows warm and I feel it shifting, expanding to fit my adult wrist the way it once fit a child's.
Then the power hits, and it’s nothing like the familiar surge I know. This goes deeper, older, like something that’s been sleeping is finally waking up. My head snaps back, my lips parting on a silent gasp. The bracelet doesn't just respond to the power inside me, it calls to it, draws it out in ways I've never felt before. Silver light erupts from my skin, wild and primal, nothing like the controlled glow I’ve learned to manage.
It races up my arms, across my shoulders, threading through my hair until I'm wrapped in radiance. But this isn't justmypower. Something else flows through the metal. Memories that aren't mine flash through my mind. A woman's hands crafting the bracelet by candlelight. Protective spells woven into every link. Love poured into silver and intention. I can feel her fear, her hope that this will be enough to keep a child safe from horrors I can’t quite grasp.
The love in those memories is overwhelming. Fierce and protective and desperate. Someone loved me enough to pour everything into keeping me safe. My birth mother? Someone else? The not-knowing aches, but the love itself feels real and warm and mine.
“Whose memories are these?” The words tear out of me. “I can see someone making this, but it's not … I don't know who she is … but … but I think she loved me.”
The room fills with silver-touched shadows as Sacha's power responds to my distress. Darkness rises from him, and curls around me like smoke. The touch calms me, and settles the wild connection until it becomes a steady pulse that matches my heartbeat.
I turn to stare at him. “What just happened?”
“The bracelet seems to amplify your powers.” He hesitates. “How does it feel?" I have the distinct impression that isn’t what he wanted to ask.
“I feel …complete,” I whisper, marveling at the way the silver light now moves at my direction instead of wild and without focus. “Like I was missing something I didn't even know was gone.”
Sacha watches for me for a moment longer, then turns to Nyassa.
“How much time do you need to prepare?”
“I will need to refresh my memory of the ritual, but there are no special things required other than our combined powers.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.” She moves to the window, looking out at the quiet suburban street. “I will need to make arrangementsfor my life here, just in case I do not return. And we must be careful. The crossing might create disturbances that could attract attention.”
“Where will we perform it?”
“I have a cellar beneath the house. We can use that.” Nyassa glances between us. “Rest tonight. Set any affairs in order you need to. Come back tomorrow.”
We both stand, and walk with her to the front door. Just before I step through onto the path, Nyassa catches my arm.
“Elowen,” she says softly. “I'm glad you found your way to who you were meant to become.”
We leave her house as dusk begins to fall over the suburban street. The cab ride to the train station happens in silence. I’m processing what we've learned, and Sacha stares out of the window, giving me space to think. The bracelet pulses against my wrist, a gentle reminder of its presence.
The train ride back into the city follows the same pattern. Street lights blur past familiar landmarks. When it pulls into our station, we join the flow of passengers heading for the exit, climbing the stairs back to street level. The neighborhood surrounds us—corner shops with their neon signs, the bodega where I buy coffee most mornings, the intersection I've crossed thousands of times.
The walk to my building is short, just a few blocks through streets that now feel both familiar and strange. We ride the elevator to my floor in silence. Inside my apartment, I turn onthe lights and set my keys on the kitchen counter. Sacha moves to the window, and stares down at the street below.
“You don't have to come back to Meridian.” His words cut through the quiet.
