The Aspect of Essence (The Aelfyn Archives, #1)

by Samantha Amstutz

“My personal project is more a working theory than anything else.” Jassyn shrugged. “Unfortunately, my studies are stalled until I can uncover new material. I proposed to Magister Thalaesyn that the elven sterility is a curse. The idea intrigued him, and he invited me to join his collaboration.” “So you think the elves’ affliction is magical in nature?” Serenna asked. Who could have cursed the elves? The wraith have no powers. Glancing through the glass of the greenhouse, she watched the sun disappear under Centarya’s floating horizon.

Probs has to do with the heart speaking to you

“My theories began when I lived in the palace,” Jassyn said. He extended a hand, and two spheres of green light sprang to life, hovering to illuminate the darkening space. “Growing up, rumors were still whispered among palace staff of King Galaeryn flying into a rage when Aesar and Vesryn stumbled upon a particular tome in their youth. The king nearly destroyed the entire royal library.” “And you suspect he was hiding something,” Serenna commented,

“All the information I ever wrung out of him was that the destroyed tomes pertained to the downfall of our ancestors in a war with the druids across the Cerulean Sea.” “Druids?” Serenna asked with a frown. “Are they different from the human shamans?” She had no knowledge of the conflict between the Aelfyn and these druids, having never heard of them before. Aside from what she’d previously assumed was folklore pertaining to elemental shamans, the only ancient history she knew came from Jassyn.

Jassyn studied the morels under his hands like he found something interesting in their scales. “Some archivists believe the druids were responsible for the way gold suppresses our magic and may also be to blame for the loss of our immortality. I deduced, or rather theorized, that the ancient druids sacrificed themselves to curse the Aelfyns’ fertility.”

The prince’s eyes latched onto hers, and a strange pulling sensation evoked a flutter in her chest. Serenna’s heart spasmed, clawing into her throat. Everything around him faded like no one else existed. The moment was as brief as a star streaking across the sky. With no warning, Vesryn sprang into another attack, a dark figure spinning nightmarish glaives of death. I imagined him looking at me. Serenna wrenched her eyes away from the ring while her heart hammered for all the wrong reasons. “I think I’m going to take your advice about Vesryn instead of my father’s.” She released a disbelieving laugh, turning away from the practice yards. “He wants me to sleep with the prince and bear his children.” Serenna gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth as if she could shove the words back in, horrified she’d mentioned such a thing to Jassyn.

A muscle flickered in the profile of Jassyn’s jaw. “There are…certain aspects about the elves I’m not comfortable discussing. Your sire’s…inclinations include that.” Slouching, he added more quietly, “The elven culture disgusts me, and I’m ashamed to be a part of it.” Serenna placed a hand on Jassyn’s arm. He flinched under her touch. The lights disappeared, submerging the rooftop in darkness. “Sorry,” she said, drawing back awkwardly for startling him. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of what you have no control over. I think the world needs more people like you.” As silent as the moons above, Jassyn stared at his palm. Serenna squinted, thinking she perceived a shimmer around him like steam rising from hot stones after a summer rain. The space above his hand flickered like a sputtering candle. With a shuddering exhale, Jassyn reignited the lights.

Vesryn’s jaw clenched, rendering his features sharper than a stiletto’s blade. “We will have our own Essence Tournament held at Centarya’s Coliseum.” Serenna scoffed at the announcement. A tournament? She wanted to laugh. I thought we were here to prepare for war. Not provide…entertainment! This was worse than being thrown at the wraith. This was a mockery of their purpose to protect these so-called nobles. “Each magister and magus may sponsor one initiate as their champion in the dueling games,” the prince said, pacing the length of the dais with the lethal grace of a panther. His heeled boots clicked on the marble, echoing in the silent hall. “At the end of every season, Centarya will host a weeklong competition for the Kyansari courts. It is up to each instructor to train their champions and prepare them for the tournament.” Vesryn sliced through the aristocrats’ excited whispers as he turned to the gathered recruits, effectively dismissing the Kyansari attendants with his back. “Since Centarya is under my command, I’d like to use these council-mandated games to at least serve some purpose beyond providing entertainment and gambling.” Serenna’s brows rose in disbelief. She nearly admired how Vesryn had no reservations about making his disdain obvious. But she frowned, considering why he didn’t share in their enthusiasm. The tournament did pale against the threat of the wraith and she wondered why the citizens didn’t seem concerned with the monsters attacking their city....

“I will permit those who rise to the upper ranks in the duels to select their position on the war front. Hopefully, this is enough incentive to master your powers and focus your attention on why we’re actually here.” Irritation bristled up Serenna’s spine. That’s hardly fair. The elven-blooded from Alari were leagues ahead of those from the human realms in magic mastery.

She couldn’t think of any reasons why the prince would take such a twisted pleasure in Jassyn’s discomfort. They’re family! Not to mention Jassyn was perhaps the most compassionate and selfless person she knew. Something protective inside of Serenna flared. Her hands trembled, imagining her fingers wringing around the prince’s throat. Never mind Vesryn could wave his hand and snap her like a twig. If her father wanted a tie to Vesryn so badly, then he could be the one crawling into the prince’s bed. Why should I care about my father’s wishes? He didn’t bother telling me I have a sister and stars know how many other siblings. Not being important enough hammered a painful spike into her chest. He probably gave Ayla the same advice of getting closer to the prince. Well, she can have him! They’d be a perfect match!

Serenna’s body seized. She collapsed to the ground, dropping as boneless as a floating jelly tumbling in the sea. Her vision went black as her limbs and muscles contorted again in all the ways they shouldn’t. Clutching onto stubborn outrage through the flames of agony, Serenna clawed at her awareness, refusing to surrender to the darkness wrestling her into a nightmare of torment. She would not give Vesryn the satisfaction of fainting. She had no concept of how long the rending lasted. It took her significantly longer to sway to her feet the second time the prince’s magic subsided. Her throat burned with a whimper at the memory of the torrid pain while her lungs sucked in breaths as sharp as blades. I’m going mad already, she thought, violently shoving away an annoying voice buzzing in her head. Serenna’s eyes darted toward the other recruits, worried she’d taken too long to recover. More than a few lay sprawled out, incapacitated by the successive wave of power. Others sobbed their misery, and an alarming number of initiates were now throwing up. Why am I the only one standing? Realizing her body wasn’t broken and shredded like she thought it should be, Serenna’s contempt fossilized into a tangible force, crystalizing like ice inside of her. A rage blanketed Serenna’s mind, shrouding her thoughts. Her fury didn’t blind her completely. Rather, her wrath gave her a direction to aim her focus. Vesryn, she snarled. The prince was the one responsible for this feeling of helple...

But then again, Serenna had spent the entire time defiantly holding her own, even after his cousin had constricted her with his power. I’m the one unable to muster the will to fend for myself. In fact, Serenna had been the one to rescue him in the healing wing. Still bewildered, Jassyn couldn’t fathom why she had defended him. Vesryn was as stunned as he was—someone had dared to lay hands on him. Jassyn didn’t miss the prince’s tell, the slight twitching of his fingers. There was still some satisfaction to be had at witnessing his cousin’s discomfort. Jassyn unapologetically burned Vesryn’s incredulous look into his memory when Serenna charged at him with nothing but her bare fists. Jassyn had no idea why Vesryn’s attention had drifted to him as if he were supposed to offer an explanation or, better yet, help him out of the situation he’d snared himself in. Frowning, Jassyn studied the vines as they slid across the ground and wound around his boots, realizing the prince had never once directed his dark magic toward him. Surely that was a coincidence. Well, Vesryn knows he can torment me in other ways. He doesn’t need Essence for that.

The thought of lingering in Kyansari had panic threatening to stop his heart. He didn’t want to spend a moment longer in the city than necessary. Utterly consumed with thoughts of fleeing the capital, he now regretted not seeking clandestine mending before departing. Exhaling a deep breath, Jassyn relaxed the tension in his shoulders, releasing the hold on his magic, unraveling the mirages obscuring the evidence from the past few days. To conceal his shame, he’d selfishly siphoned Essence into maintaining illusions. His chest hollowed for squandering his power. The other magus would need his assistance mending the recruits after Vesryn’s class. But he didn’t have the courage to return to the healing wing. Not like this. It wasn’t as if there was enough Essence remaining in his Well to do anything useful before he could regenerate his dwindling power. I’ll need the stars’ aid to regenerate tonight.

The gifts heaped on Jassyn just made him feel even more defiled. Like riches were any consolation for the transaction of using his body. But Farine didn’t care about producing offspring. Her contract with him wasn’t about that. No, she wanted to exploit and degrade him because of who he was and the line he belonged to—the Raellyns. Farine inflicted pain and humiliation on him for his mother’s transgression, that’s what it came down to. Jassyn doubted his family even paid attention to the Vallendes’ retaliation; his servitude was their doing, and the hardships he endured were his own. He hadn’t communicated with any of his blood besides Vesryn since he’d left the palace nearly fifty years prior. And his association with the prince certainly wasn’t by choice. What history lingered between the Vallendes and Raellyns families, Jassyn couldn’t say. He assumed there was a grudge against his mother for being the one to secure his sire for coupling at the dawn of the elves and humans mingling. Back then, the council was cautious about startling the mortals with their differences in selecting multiple partners, so the realm restricted the first generation of pairings. Aside from his sire hailing as a king from the northern realm, Jassyn knew little else besides that he was his only elven-blooded offspring. For whatever reason, the Vallendes and Raellyns fought over that human bloodline like they were vultures devouring a rotting carcass.

Like an earthquake, Jassyn’s body expelled a tremor at the memory. In her chamber of perverse horrors, Farine instructed him to stand there, unclothed on a pedestal, while the elves marveled at his anatomy and human complexion. Like they’d never laid eyes on an elven-blooded in the past century. Or engaged in similar events. Farine told him he should be flattered for being so desired and fetching a price so high—no other half-breed was as coveted as him. And then she promised she’d make him pay for it later. From the furrows of nail marks down his chest and across his back, and the chunks of flesh missing from his neck, she was true to her word. Overpowering others gave the Vallendes a sense of superiority. Shuddering with a heavy sigh, Jassyn clutched at the vines looping around him, taking a moment to breathe. In through his nose and out of his mouth. He grounded himself as the sun sank lower, feeling the textures of the leaves under his fingertips, inhaling the damp earth, and fighting to keep the darkness from caving in at the corners of his vision. When Farine summoned him to her estate again, Jassyn feared he’d lose the will to live if he had to remember.

Other firsts? Like what? Stubbornly ignoring his attempts at the inappropriate insinuations, Serenna scowled, biting out each word. “You didn’t teach anything.” “Which is why I’m impressed,” Vesryn said, running his hands across the overhanging branch. “I can feel your other abilities hovering under your skin. Your magic only needs to be drawn out by the appropriate emotions. You managed to shape rending the first time you touched it—which isn’t an easy feat.” Serenna

“Don’t touch me,” she said in a level voice, glaring into his eyes. “I’m not telling you again.” Holding his gaze, Serenna ignored the electric surge of his power strobing beneath her fingertips. She recognized her own traitorous magic humming under her skin as if roused from the contact. Vesryn’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly and flicked to her hand clenched around his wrist. Serenna flung his arm away before freezing like a startled deer, not daring to breathe while she waited for his backlash. Vesryn straightened with a smirk. “So the harpy has a bite.” He wiggled his fingers in front of her face. A challenge sparkled in his jade eyes, shining with arrogant glee. “You have no idea what you started, Princess.”

Serenna frowned. Jassyn sat in the greenhouse, leaning against the glass. With worry prickling at her scalp, she balanced the platter of food on a hip to open the glass door. When she saw him more clearly, shock loosened her grip. The tray of food crashed to the ground. Aghast, Serenna placed a hand over her mouth. Purple bruises and bite marks marred every surface of his neck. Trenches left by nails disappeared under his white leathers. He looked ravaged by an animal. “Are you okay?” Serenna asked, rushing to kneel beside him. She swept vines away to clear a space. “What happened?” Jassyn didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Studying the plants twisted around his palms, he rubbed the leaves between his fingers. “I’m waiting until the stars are out so I can regenerate to…cover everything back up.” “Should I get a mender?” Serenna asked, knowing that self-healing wasn’t possible. “A few magus are still in the wing.” Jassyn’s skin was so inflamed and shredded that he had to be in pain. This doesn’t appear to have just happened… He must have concealed the wounds with illusions. Jassyn shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

The strange silver cords wrapped around her Well drew Serenna’s attention again. Not knowing anything about her manifested power, she hauled the strands toward her in a second attempt, but they slipped through her imagined fingers. I’ll have to ask Jassyn about that magic later. She tried something else. Gripping shimmering Essence in a tight fist, Serenna searched for a different lair, picturing herself in a dark underground cavern, exploring for another ability. Unformed magic swirled around her, glittering like a stream of stars. Harnessing raw power wasn’t quite a talent, but it was a way to perceive and examine other life forces. Serenna had already learned menders used the skill to assess injuries before they began healing. Maintaining a shroud of unformed Essence was a common practice before directing an ability.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know.” Jassyn’s despair caused a lump of agony to form in her throat. Serenna swiped away tears, wanting to comfort him, but she wasn’t sure how. Would he even want to be touched? Tentatively, she reached out to wrap an arm around his shoulder. That was all it took for him to shatter, sagging against her and weeping into her embrace.

While he folded his cloak to carry, Lykor discerned an inferno of hatred searing through the link. Even half a world away, he experienced the intensity of the bond-holder’s emotions. He doubted the person on the other end was aware they were jerking on the connection. PROBABLY FUCKING AROUND WITH THEIR MAGIC, Lykor thought. He refused to embrace this intrusion linking them with tendrils of power. Lykor had no desire to dwell upon how long this vestige of a bond would hover between him and whichever figure he’d observed that stormy night on the shore. With a disgusted growl, he assumed the connection would last an eternity if they never met in the flesh to accept or reject the magic of the bond. As if he wanted an aspect of Essence to shackle him to another. We’re both probably bonded to them, the other entity in Lykor’s mind mused. While fucking ridiculous, the quiet statement made Lykor stiffen, hackles rising like hearing a whisper in shadows. They rarely addressed each other directly. That is, until a few weeks ago when the other presence took an interest in the discovery of their bond-holder. Surely talking to the other in his head would grate at his focus—making his stability more difficult to maintain than it already was. The other being had seldom risen to the surface of their thoughts during the past century they’d existed together, dwelling in the same mind. That fragment of himself had been content to lurk. To watch. To let Lykor serve as the host of their action...

Are they the silver tendrilss she sees in her mind

Lykor shoved the gauntlet onto his claw, sheathing the reminder of how the elves had diminished his body. He was now reduced. Wretched. Transformed. But the sheer arrogance of the elves would be their downfall—Lykor would see to it. They’d left him rotting in the dungeons alongside the wraith, with a fraction of his former power. A fresh wave of anger crashed over him at the thought of how the wraith had been harmed. Broken. Defiled. He’d bargained his compliance in the elves’ research to spare his people from the same experimenting. He loathed all elves and the taint they left on the world. Essence answered his anger, black tendrils of rending lashed around him, spurred by his wrath. But there was one he hated above all the others. Lykor’s thoughts twisted into compliance, cursed by the elves’ magic. Him he would kill on sight. There was no escape from the coercion. Tethered and defenseless with a lacerated mind, the elves embedded commands into Lykor’s flesh, demanding his obedience. To kill him. I’m not compelled to harm him, the quiet voice said. YOU’RE IN NO POSITION TO TAKE OVER, Lykor snarled.

How this ancient druid capital existed, hidden from all knowledge, was beyond him. Even after all this time, his people continued to discover concealed chambers in the depths below the earth. Lykor frequently wondered how decay hadn’t overrun the fortress. Perhaps there was residual druidic magic he couldn’t detect. Everything about the keep was exotic, but equipped as if the former stewards had simply vanished. The druids left behind rugs, tapestries, weapons, and even armor to accommodate shifting into their dragon forms. It was almost as if this place waited for new masters, frozen in time.

The elven culture had long since become stagnant, abandoning their interest in innovation. How far their race fell from their former glory. A time when the legends said they used to travel between the stars. I doubt there was anything glorious about the Aelfyn, the other being muttered. Even though he agreed, Lykor ignored the comment, not wanting to entertain a conversation or dwell anymore on the elves.

The remote location of the ancient stronghold had bought them time. The wraith had scraped a semblance of a life in the Hibernal Wastes. Not the existence they were accustomed to, but a small fraction of normalcy. As normal as the wretched could get. To everyone’s surprise, a substantial number of offspring were born after they established themselves in the keep’s safety. The wraithlings had shifted their focus away from simply surviving; his people now had something to live for—a future to prepare for. Their numbers had increased fivefold over the past eighty years of freedom. Two thousand five hundred and twenty-one, the other recited, like Lykor had asked him to flap his numerical mouth. With another wraithling due any day from Kal’s clan. In their mind, Lykor watched the other presence fold his arms, leaning against a fabricated doorframe to chuckle. As you’d expect, there is some confusion about who the sire is, but— Lykor growled in annoyance and drove the commentary away, shoving him into a room.

The night the link appeared, the other entity defiantly declared he wouldn’t permit Lykor to kill their bond-holder. Uninterested in fighting a battle of wills or wrestling for control over their body, Lykor stayed his hand. Otherwise, he would’ve slaughtered those two on the beach to decimate the threat. Apparently, you have an aura similar to someone else’s if Essence linked you, the other jested. Technically, the bond connects our Wells. FUCK OFF. Lykor’s chest heaved with fury that this connection plagued him. Trembling, he struggled to suppress his magic, which threatened to spiral out of control. He gathered his will and rammed steel bars around his thoughts to obscure his awareness of the bond-holder’s emotions. Until he realized he was grasping at nothing, like clutching smoke. The elves had thoroughly obliterated his capacity to form any mental barricades.

Even considering the elves had Essence, it wasn’t like they’d bothered mastering their powers. Lykor was confident his people would have a fighting chance if the elves ever decided to hunt them down. The wraith wouldn’t be defenseless—Lykor had ensured his people learned how to fight and use what abilities they did have. Having lived the past eighty years in the most remote location in the known world, they all were unsure of Alari’s current state. Lykor had hoped the elves would eventually die out from the druids’ curse. He’d intended to keep the wraith hidden, biding their time in safety. But the humans gathering in camps and the evidence of the half-elves on the southern realm’s beaches suggested something was happening.

They’d collected hyacinths from the water’s edge to help Nelya rebuild her collection. The fact that someone had destroyed the greenhouse, apparently with a blast of force, appalled Serenna. Why would anyone do such a thing? Is it because the research would benefit humans? They’d salvaged what plants they could, but the insurmountable loss weighed heavily on them. It had taken Nelya decades to accumulate such an assortment from all corners of the realms.

Serenna accessed the reservoir of her power and wrenched her entire Well toward her, letting the ravenous pull devour her. It was as if the floodgates of a dam opened, releasing the wrath of a raging river. Turning, Serenna gritted her teeth and planted her feet in the sand to brace herself. With a sweeping gesture of her other hand, she included the rest of the Alari initiates in her onslaught before they disabled her first, smothering them with a storm of rending. Everyone collapsed, contorting on the ground to join Ayla in uncontrolled writhing. Serenna clutched two fistfuls of darkness. Cyclones of twisting shadows connected her to the screaming recruits. The rampaging magic buffeted her like a squall, distorting the air. Her body vibrated as the torrent of Essence blazed through her. Chest heaving from the effort, she clenched her power with all of her strength, never before having channeled the full extent of her power. A vision unfolded in Serenna’s mind, showing her how to divide the bundles of rending. Serenna split the currents of magic into two. And separated those channels into four. And then repeatedly divided Essence, creating separate streams of magic to each of the eighteen recruits. Drowning in her outrage, she didn’t dwell on where the knowledge came from. A shard of awareness fragmented Serenna’s focus, diverting her attention away from the screaming initiates. Her magic spun around them while they flailed on the ground, trussed to pain. Scuffed boots ap...

Lifting her hand as if it were the heaviest weight in the world, she paused halfway when a smug smile tugged at a corner of the prince’s mouth. She spoke before thinking. “You won nothing, so I suggest you wipe that satisfied look off your face.” Vesryn’s expression darkened, eyes flaring with a dangerous flame that sent her heart thundering. “And I suggest you address me with proper regard,” he hissed back. “‘Prince’ or ‘Commander’ will do. I’d hate to make two examples out of you because of your insolence.” “Then maybe you should do something to actually earn my respect,” she snapped. A muscle in Vesryn’s jaw ticked. Serenna shut her mouth, biting her cheek. I went too far. But he’s utterly infuriating! As meekly as she could manage, she mumbled a pathetic, “Commander.” “Oh, very good, Princess.” Vesryn drawled out the word, the sarcasm as scathing as his tone. “Your decorum astounds me. Now, are we going to stand here all fucking day or get this over with?” His fingers twitched in what could only be irritation. Serenna tossed her braid over a shoulder before viciously shoving her hand into his. A current raced up her arm when their skin met, unnerving her even further. She had no idea why he felt the need to shock her into submission. But she fumed in silence, holding her tongue while her treacherous magic practically summoned itself, pelting against the prince’s palm. Like her power called to him. Vesryn’s gaze bored into hers as he gripped her hand almost to the point...

“I’m not doing anything.” Vesryn’s brow furrowed while he evaluated her finger, turning her hand over to inspect the shattered joints. “Well, what do you call that shock of power then?” “It’s your magic.” “Why would—” “Shut up. I need to concentrate for this.” A pressure thrummed, unformed Essence surrounding them like a starry heat wave. “It happens to me too,” Vesryn admitted. Serenna gaped when a soft red light sprang between their hands. Tendrils of mending laced around her broken finger, numbness enveloping her joints. “I thought you didn’t permit healing for three days.” Stunned, Serenna stared at her crooked finger. She frowned. The rather sloppy lattice of magic would’ve offended Jassyn, agitating him enough to drive both of his hands through his curls. “Is this even considered…mending?” she asked. Vesryn rolled his eyes and released her hand. “I set the bones and dispersed the swelling. I can’t manage anything beyond that, but you won’t perceive the break. You can have it straightened next week.” Serenna’s brows rose, shocked that he’d admitted to a deficiency in skill. She nearly thanked him before she recalled he was the one who’d fractured her finger. Even if she broke the rules. And she wouldn’t hesitate to defend herself again. “Why?” She blinked questioningly at him. Not understanding his motivation only steered her thoughts into an endless loop of uncertainty. Vesryn shrugged. “I didn’t want to feel it.” “Feel it?” She waved her hand in between them. “It’s ...

“Why choose me as your champion?” she asked, watching Vesryn send sheets of Essence out like he was searching for something. “Believe it or not, I think it’s possible you may possess a scrap of potential.” Swells of glimmering power blanketed the swaying grasses. Serenna scowled at his back. “Are you always this condescending?” “Are you always this irritating?” The prince rounded on her, sending the loose portion of his silvery hair flying around his shoulders like a mantle. Serenna opened her mouth, but he interrupted. “That was rhetorical, you harpy. I had no interest in training a champion for the tournament until that entertaining performance you pulled off today. You’ve shown such an improvement with your control since the first time you stroked my fingers.” He shrugged. “I didn’t realize a half-breed could manipulate that amount of power by channeling an emotional response.”

“But not Naru and Trella?” Serenna asked as two riders trotted down the hallway on a pair of brown dracovae. Vibrations from the ground rattled through her legs. One beast tossed its head and snapped at its companion in a seemingly playful manner. “Trella…became unruly when her rider died.” Vesryn’s knuckles turned white on the pail’s handle. “And keeping them confined didn’t sit well with me.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I figured they’d be happier together in the wilds if Trella wasn’t willing to accept another rider.” Serenna’s heart was not melting from the warmth he directed at the creatures. The prince’s attitude toward the dracovae and the elven-blooded in the stables was so inconsistent with his usual sneers and patronizing behavior. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Was Trella his brothers?

“I established the rangers, but previously, the dracovae were my brother’s project.” He stroked the gray plumage of the parent. It closed its eyes, emitting delighted trilling clacks at the attention. “My…interests at the time lay elsewhere.” The prince caressed the beast while he spoke, like he found something interesting in the plumes. “But since his death and the emergence of the wraith, I’ve taken over. Training warriors to hunt those monsters in his memory.” The dracovae’s contented exhale breezed through their hair. “They…they took everything from me.” Serenna stared at the hatchlings, now coiling under the other parent’s wings. Her chest tightened, feeling more than a little overwhelmed that the prince was sharing this much with her. Jassyn had told her Vesryn never spoke of his brother and she was unsure what the appropriate response would be. I’m sorry seemed an inadequate reply to recognize such loss.

“Trella was your brother’s dracovae, wasn’t she?” Serenna asked quietly, stepping next to the prince to join him at the stall. Lifting a hand more confidently this time, she stroked the creature’s neck. Vesryn tensed. He halted with a feather in between his fingers, but resumed petting the beast with a nod. Serenna swallowed a heavy feeling of sadness. She could almost sense the sorrow radiating from him as her throat cinched tight.

“We’re intertwined,” he said, his fingers warm, unfolding against her. “I felt your presence appear in my mind the night I portaled here. I’m assuming it was because you were untethered for the first time.” Serenna inhaled a serrated breath when he gently trailed his hand up her arm, sending comets of magic shooting under her skin. “I know you feel it too,” he whispered in a voice as soft as dreams. “This power when we touch.” The heat from Vesryn’s body warmed the edge of her senses. The space between them was too tight, their rising chests nearly colliding with every shared breath. With her pulse hammering in her ears, feeling as if her heart threatened to careen her off the cliff, Serenna asked, “What does it mean? Why does my magic respond this way to you?” Her voice was breathless and light, hesitant to admit the effect he had on her. “My power doesn’t react when anyone else with magic touches me.” Vesryn’s fingers abruptly halted their journey dancing across her skin. He dropped his hand, and his wrist twitched as if annoyance struck his joints. He stepped away. The world tilted back into place when the magnetic pull of the prince’s presence slackened, leaving Serenna dizzy and standing on shards of the broken moment. Did I say something wrong? “I didn’t mean—” Vesryn interrupted her in a gruff voice. “It’s a bond.” “A bond?” Serenna repeated. Like that was supposed to explain something. “Our…” He grasped at the air as if he were trying to gather the right words. “Es...

And lykor is bonded bc Vesryns twin brother is the entity in his wraith body

The wraith flowed in a stream, fanning out in squad formations away from his rift. As the only one with any magic, Lykor frequently supervised their raids. He didn’t join them through the portal every time, but he had a special interest in today’s plundering.

By raiding the supply lines into Alari, Lykor discovered the humans were totally defenseless and unprepared to form any resistance. It created a low risk and effective way of gathering provisions. He wondered if the elves would ever protect “their” goods from the wraith’s continued looting. Seemingly content, the humans funneled all of their resources to Alari. But what would happen if the mortal’s slumbering powers ever stirred and they decided to stand against their oppressors? Perhaps that was the awakening the world needed to dislodge the elves’ grip on the land.

Not everyone in Alari was blind to the oppression the Aelyfn had initiated a millennium ago. But no one dared oppose King Galaeryn and his growing power. Stars, how many discussions had he and— Lykor snarled at the other entity’s memory resurfacing, his thoughts skimming dangerously close to chaos by dwelling on whom he was compelled to kill. Leather armor creaked as he rolled his shoulders.

He is compelled to kill Vesryn and their dad did it. He alsoo initiated he first attck that killeed theirr mom and used it as a way to have the wraiths in the dungeons. Apparently lykor agreed to experimeets whhich tthe king used his son for?

The stars had already cursed him enough. Why did they have to banish him with the former captain of the princes’ guard? “Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” Lykor snarled. “I don’t care about these reservations. We’re taking the fight to them. I won’t hesitate to put someone else in your position who will stand by my decision.” His lip curled into a sneer. “Your son perhaps.” “My job is to question you,” Kal growled, but he didn’t struggle to free himself from Lykor’s grip. “Let me talk to him. There’s no way he agrees with this.” “I’m not him!” Lykor raged, baring his fangs. “You’ve had a century to reconcile with this change. It’s past time you do.” The overfamiliarity still grated on Lykor like a desert’s blasting sand. Kal refused to accept him as a different individual and only saw the other being. Lykor couldn’t care less about the history they’d shared before the dungeons—it wasn’t his past.

Huh so Kal wasnt a wraith befre? He was Vesryns brithers gauurd?

“I remember you startling through the bond,” Vesryn commented, sheathing the knife at his hip. “What did it say?” He studied her, but she didn’t sense he doubted her. So, it wasn’t him manipulating me telepathically, like Jassyn mused. Emboldened by his belief, Serenna’s words cascaded like a falling cataract. “It…it said whelps stole its magic. Maybe elemental magic? It wanted the Hearts returned—the voice, that is. It said there were five Hearts keeping it bound. And it called me a hatchling or something like that. I think.” Flushing further, Serenna looked away, mortified she’d brought up the memory. And to the prince! He’s going to think I’m ridiculous. Sunlight gleamed in Vesryn’s vibrant eyes, reflecting curiosity as he searched her. Analyzing. “I don’t have an answer as to what the relic is beyond its use in determining abilities.” The prince traced his lower lip with a thumb before he frowned. His mouth parted as he paused before he spoke. “I heard a theory once of what it might’ve been used for…a long time ago. Perhaps I can retrieve it the next time I’m at the palace if you wanted to…hold it again?” Serenna cleared her throat and readjusted her hair over her shoulder. She tried to shrug off her discomfort. “Um…sure.” Changing the subject, she asked, “So why are you hunting wraith this early?”

His fingers flexed, the blade shaking in his white-knuckled grip. “They reported that four wraith slaughtered an entire village of shepherds in Halaema.” Vesryn’s jaw clenched before he continued. “Those monsters are growing too bold, now butchering livestock and humans for sport. The council sent a missive this morning detailing where the creatures were last sighted. I’m leaving to track them down.”

But they arent? Elashor must be maanipulating them. He is too invested in thiss

“Something like that,” he said with what felt like a deliberate brush of his fingers down her arm as his hand slipped off her shoulder. Snatching the feathers from his desk, he shoved them at her. “Keep them.” Serenna steadied the tremor in her hand before retrieving the offered gift. She stared at the black and white plumes and couldn’t help but think he’d shared something important with her. Holding her breath, Serenna hoped that the coiled knot of her feelings wasn’t bleeding through the bond. Vesryn cleared his throat. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Serenna blinked, the spell snapping. That was all she needed to surface from whatever flowing undercurrent she’d invented between them. “Yes, anywhere else, I think.” She spun around to let herself out of his office. Right before turning the handle, she faltered at the door. Serenna tried to decipher her concern. She twisted back toward the prince, her lips parting, but no words emerged while she watched him open a portal. Vesryn glanced in her direction. Be careful? Is that stupid to tell him? “You’re not going alone, are you?” she asked. “I’ll be fine.” “But—” He vanished.

She hardly perceived Vesryn’s presence in her mind, and couldn’t identify his location, as he seemed to be both in the east and the west. He had thoroughly jumbled her thoughts. Stars, does he have this effect on everyone?

“For some, it’s possible to restore Essence at any time, but it’s significantly quicker to regenerate when the stars aren’t veiled. That galaxy there…” Vesryn leaned toward her and pointed above the horizon. Serenna’s stomach lurched when his shoulder bumped hers. “The cluster with the blue stars in the middle and the surrounding spirals? I think that’s the Aelfyn homeworld.” Serenna released an unbidden laugh but noted Vesryn’s serious demeanor while he studied the sky. “You’re joking, right?” The prince turned to meet her gaze, his eyes bright with the light of the universe blooming above them. “I know the elves believe they originated from the stars, but aren’t those legends to make sense of their beginnings?” I doubt they’d admit they came from the same place as humans. “What makes you think that specific cluster of stars is their…homeworld?” “Don’t you feel the energy radiating from that galaxy? Doesn’t it make you want to imagine there’s something more up there?” Vesryn extended his hand as if trying to touch the astral light to harvest the gems from the blanket of sky. “Try focusing on those stars sometime when you’re regenerating. I think you’ll perceive a difference when restoring your power.”

“Nosing through books was my brother’s specialty,” Vesryn said with a sad smile, his eyes reflecting the memories of his past. “Even so, he was probably still a more formidable swordsman than me—at least back then. Though, I suppose he trained as much as he did so he had an excuse to spend more time around our captain.” The prince shook his head and gave a snort. “Anyway, Aesar believed our race was removed from the origins of our magic for too long—perhaps a reason why Essence has started to fade.” Serenna studied the sky with an uncomfortable weight settling against her chest as the prince confided in her. The conversation seemed important to him, even though she couldn’t guess why he shared more about his brother. Vesryn turned pensive, staring out across the horizon, his eyes becoming as distant as the stars. “All we know for certain is that Aelfyn history began over five thousand years ago. What little else we know is hardly more than stories, passed down from the remnants of their people who crashed on the mortal shores.” “Do the legends say why the Aelfyn never tried sailing back across the Cerulean Sea? Couldn’t they portal?” Serenna asked. “The Maelstrom was to blame, and I think it’s more than a storm.” Vesryn split the illumination into dozens of glittering jewels that floated around them like hummingbirds. “I can’t explain it. I’ve flown near the tempest on Naru, and the energy it emits is like nothing I’ve ever sensed before.” He traced his lower lip in though...

He gave her fingers a squeeze. “I said I was curious about what was out there, not that I wanted to be like them.” Serenna stared at their entwined hands before blinking up at him when he spoke. “In my mother’s library, my brother and I stumbled on an ancient text disclosing the Aelfyns’ folly—the cause of their downfall. Instead of coexisting with other magics, our ancestors harvested dragons for their elemental power…or tried to.” Serenna stiffened, not daring to breathe when Vesryn brushed the back of her hand with his thumb. She assumed he didn’t realize what he was doing. “History has conveniently forgotten the rest, but I imagine the Aelfyn were to blame for starting the Great War.” He shook his head. “Their pursuit of gathering power brought more than the end to the dragons—the magic of the druids and shamans also went extinct.” This must be what Jassyn remembered hearing in the palace. But why was their magic lost? The prince was unexpectedly giving credit to the human’s folklore, too. What other hidden knowledge is in his head? Jassyn had already told her the extent of what he knew. If she didn’t press too aggressively, perhaps she could uncover the truth in time. “Your sigil.” Serenna nodded at his uniform. “Is that why you wear a dragon instead of a dracovae like your rangers?” Vesryn glanced at his armor and released her hand to tug at one of the frayed threads. For being royalty, the prince didn’t maintain impeccable clothing like she’d expect. He could certai...

Jassyn launched inquiries to his peers pertaining to the compulsive magic, asking offhand questions, but few elven-blooded were familiar with King Galaeryn’s power. He found that no one else at Centarya was subjected to it. Nelya informed him their mentor’s rapid deterioration had begun when the council dictated Centarya’s priority be a military operation. At the time, Jassyn was already assigned to Vaelyn. Does his distraught behavior have to do with the threat of the wraith? Thalaesyn’s banishment to Centarya occurred when the academy opened—not long after the creatures emerged. But the details around why the magister had fallen from the king’s graces were kept quiet. Jassyn doubted he could replicate the telepathic power the king had placed on Thalaesyn. Not that he had any desire to exert such control over another person.

Like a stone tossed across a pond’s surface, Jassyn’s eyes skipped over the package lying open on his table. He didn’t possess the mental capacity to process the meaning of the delightful surprise Vesryn had left at his door. At the same time, Jassyn was unable to resist the impulse to run his fingers over the garments. He’d never encountered a material so soft—even finer than silk. He’d deciphered from Vesryn’s nearly illegible blocky lettering that the apparel was sleepwear, of all things—spun from goat hair. Jassyn hadn’t decided if the garment’s intended meaning mocked his servitude. I’m sure it’s a slight. The prince disclosed this new “cazhmare”—spelled incorrectly, Jassyn realized after some research—was going to increase significantly in value because the wraith slaughtered shepherds and livestock. Vesryn thought he would enjoy the luxurious material, since he knew Jassyn liked “exquisite” things. Like Vesryn knows anything about me. Overwhelmed and at a complete loss as to what to do with the clothing, Jassyn left the package where it was. Too many components of the gift disconcerted him.

Eyes watering, nose burning like he breathed in pepper, Jassyn didn’t stop drawing the substance into his body. Darkness shrouded his mind like a comforting cloud. Jassyn’s anxious thoughts dissolved while his dread evaporated. His blinks became slow and drawn out, along with his heartbeats. As his consciousness drifted away, so did his worries. With his awareness drowning in a sea of black, Jassyn never recalled the lightning he momentarily clenched in his fists.

Intrigue kept sliding Jassyn’s eyes to the delicate box. He assumed what its contents were. Hand trembling in anticipation, no longer able to resist the urge, he flipped the latch and swung the top open. Crimson powder shimmered up at him. He wasn’t familiar with this strain of Stardust. Jassyn could only assume the drug would enhance his performance. As long as it stole his awareness, he didn’t care. Regenerating and channeling magic was becoming a struggle, but he could manage. It wasn’t like he consumed an exorbitant amount of the dust at Centarya. Just enough to take the edge off and keep his trepidation at bay. In bleak spirits, but feeling slightly more alive after the meal, Jassyn glanced around the room, wondering how he’d gotten there. Rising, he inspected the clothing Farine had chosen. It was an exquisite three-piece suit, striking in color. Deep purples were the rarest and most expensive dyes imported from Allaenar’s coast. Jassyn’s fingers traveled over the garment. He scoffed. Of course, it was crafted from the same cashmere fabric Vesryn had gifted him.