Page 3 of Veinblood
The bracelet I was found with. Was it more than jewelry? A connection to Meridian, sent with me to Earth?
“Elowen.”
She coalesces from the darkness, less than an arm’s length in front of where I drift. Her eyes shine with silver flecks that mirror those in mine.
“The circle was never meant to be broken this way. What was separated seeks reunion.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She nods anyway, like she can hear my thoughts.
“The crystal’s power was never meant to be contained. It was a conduit, nota vessel. Sereven twisted its purpose, thinking he could bind what was always meant to flow freely.”She lifts her hand and reaches toward me.
Images come to life between us, more real than the visions I had before.
A circular chamber carved from stone. A blue crystal suspended above a pedestal in the center. Figures move in unison, wearing dark robes embroidered with silver threads that catch the light as their hands shape symbols in the air.
The crystal responds, its energy flowing outward like water rather than drawing inward into itself. There’s no violence here, no screaming or blood. Just a gentle rhythm as power flows between the crystal and the people around it. They’re participating in something larger, something that connects them all, instead of taking from it or forcing it to take from them. The energy moves like it's alive, like it has a purpose beyond just existing.
“Before the Authority,”the woman continues,“power moved through all things. The crystal was its voice, its heart.”
The chamber transforms. Violence erupts where quiet ceremonies were once performed. Bodies lie scattered across the floor, blood running in rivulets that form the Authority’s symbol. The crystal’s radiance changes. No longer giving but taking, pulling visible strands of color from the fallen figures. I watch as they die, their power taken from them.
The crystal pulses brighter with each death, gorging itself on power that was meant to flow freely through the world.
“The first purge.”Sorrow fills her voice.“When knowledge became forbidden. When power became taboo.”
A shiver runs through me. These aren’t random images, but scenes from Meridian’s past. A time when power was understood rather than feared, channeled rather than contained. A history the Authority buried beneath years of doctrine and lies.
The woman’s form flickers, edges dissolving as though holding her presence here demands more strength than she has left. Her eyes meet mine.
“Listen carefully, Elowen. If you forget everything else, remember this. The crystal did not destroy. It separated. What belongs together will find its way back. The Authority fears what it cannot control.”Her voice softens.“What it does not understand, it seeks to destroy. What it covets, it perverts. The crystal was meant to unite, not to divide. To channel, rather than contain.”Her form begins to disintegrate.“Remember the bracelet. Remember the storm. Remember what lies beneath.”
Then she’s gone, leaving nothing but the faint echo of her voice. The darkness surges forward, swallowing everything. Cold invades my senses. A bone-deep chill that spreads from the tips of my fingers inward. Pain builds in my head, pressure increasing until I’m sure my skull is going to crack.
I try to hold onto the things she mentioned.
Remember what lies beneath.
Beneathwhat?The Authority’s deceptions? Meridian itself?
Why do I need to remember the bracelet? And the storm? Is she talking about my power or something else entirely?
I have no idea what the connections could be, but Idoknowthey’re important. The way she spoke, the urgency in her voice, everything about her says these aren’t just random clues. They’re the key to something, but I can’t make sense of what.
And then another thought breaks through the confusion.
Sacha.
Did he survive? Is he searching for me now? Can he feel me the way I can feel him, now that I’m thinking about him?
The bond between us, forged in the tower, tempered through danger, became something else during those final moments at Thornspire. I canfeelhim now, a faint touch, but it’s there, thin and distant, but real. I’m sure of it.
I remember the intense concentration on his face during our practice sessions. The way his expression softened in quiet moments. The fierce determination when he faced Sereven. The transformation after his healing. He stood taller, stronger, and more sure of what he was meant to be.
I can’t lose him. Ican’t. The thought of losing him now, after everything we’ve been through, when our combined power is the only real threat the Authority can’t control, makes something cold settle in my stomach.
I reach for the power inside me again, willing it to answer. Just enough to let me know it’s still there. But there’s nothing. The magic that changed me at River Crossing has vanished, or it’s locked beyond reach.
Is this how Sacha felt during those years of captivity, cut off from the shadows that are part of who he is? Knowing theywere there, but unable to reach them? The helplessness must have been unbearable.
