Page 81 of Magic in My Bones

“Yes, mo stóirín?”

“What is this thing?”

The air in the room seemed to thicken as my hand moved toward the chain, though I didn't notice it then. Later, I would remember how the dust motes in the air had frozen in place, how the flames in the fireplace had suddenly burned blue

But in that moment, all I felt was curiosity.

The chain seemed to call to me, its silver links gleaming with an inner light that made the mark on my forehead tingle in recognition. Our magic sang to each other like long-lost friends finally reunited. But when my fingers brushed the cool metal, that gentle song became a deafening orchestra, reality itself exploding into a wave of impossible sensation. It was as if someone had cranked up the volume on reality itself. Colors became impossibly vivid, scents sharpened to an almost painful intensity, and I swear I could hear the heartbeats of the dust motes floating in the air.

“Whoa,” I breathed, my voice sounding strange and echoey in my own ears.

The chain seemed to come alive in my hands, the runes glowing with an otherworldly light that pulsed in time with my racing heartbeat. It felt warm against my skin, almost uncomfortably so, like holding a mug of tea that's just a shade too hot to drink.

I tried to set it down, but my fingers wouldn't cooperate. It was as if the chain had fused to my skin, becoming an extension of my own body. Panic bubbled up in my chest, threatening to overflow.

The last thing I saw before the magic overwhelmed me was a bright white light. Then Dorian's voice cut through the chaos, speaking words in a language I didn't recognize but somehow understood in my bones.

And then, blessed darkness.

28

The Chain of Echoes

Ren

It was as ifreality had split wide open, and I was caught between worlds both present and past, here and somewhere far away. The chain in my hands pulsed with a ferocious heat, like holding onto a living star. The metal seemed to breathe, its surface rippling like mercury beneath my fingers. The runes carved into its surface began to glow with an otherworldly light, first silver, then deep violet, then a shade of blue I'd never seen before. It was the color of midnight in midwinter.

The mark on my forehead blazed in response to the chain's power, but unlike its usual dark energy, this felt... different. Like recognition. Like coming home. Our magic twined together as if we'd been made for each other, death magic calling to death magic in a way that made my previous connections feel shallow in comparison. Even my bond with Dorian seemed to pale against this ancient power that promised to make me whole.

I couldn't think. Not clearly, anyway. It was as if my mind was swarming with too many voices, too many feelings, too mucheverything. My skin burned where the chain touched me, likeI was holding something both foreign and intimately familiar. The runes on its surface glowed with a soft, ethereal light, their patterns shifting as if they were alive, breathing in sync with the frantic beat of my heart.

“Ren—”

Dorian's voice reached me through the haze, a lifeline that seemed too far away. I tried to focus, but the overwhelming flood of sensation threatened to drown me.

The air vibrated around me, pulling on my very bones. I felt something in the room—no,something in me, something ancient and weighty, pressing in, filling every empty space in my chest. The magic from the chain wrapped itself around my heart, pulling at the edges of my consciousness, pulling at thedarkness.

It was like a thread was unspooling inside of me. My magic had always felt like a quiet hum beneath the surface. But this? This was different. This felt like the pull of a thousand souls, reaching for me, pulling at me. I gasped as I felt them all—ghosts and spirits, long lost, each with their own desires, their own pains. It was like I could see through their eyes, feel what they felt. Each flicker of emotion, each whisper of memory, flooding me at once.

I barely had time to process it before another wave of sensation hit. I couldn’t focus on just one. Too many memories. Too many emotions. My fingers clutched the chain tighter, the cold metal sinking into my skin as if it had fused with me.

The weight in my chest grew unbearable, the pressure so intense it almost felt like I was being crushed. Panic clawed at the edges of my mind, but I couldn’t even remember how to breathe.

“Ren!” Dorian’s voice broke through the storm, sharper now, filled with urgency. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel hispresence and his concern. It was like a grounding force, pulling me back to reality, even if only for a moment.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady myself.I can’t lose control.

But the chain—whatever this was—it was tugging at something inside me, something raw and uncontrollable. I felt it then. The pull of the magic, a dark, hungry force, wrapping around my soul, demanding. It wanted to consume, tomerge, to pull something out of me.

What is this thing?I couldn’t understand how the chain was doing this to me. It was just a piece of metal, a few runes carved into it, but it wasalive. The magic was alive.

I felt it before I saw it. It was like an invisible hand pulling me, twisting my body from within, dragging me away from the world I knew. The chain in my hands burned hotter, its metal biting into my skin, and the world around me began to unravel.

It was like I was being ripped apart at the seams, caught between two worlds. The air grew thick, suffocating, and the weight in my chest became unbearable. I gasped for breath, but it didn’t come. My vision blurred, the edges of reality fraying until everything around me collapsed into darkness.

Then, suddenly, there was light. It was dim and flickering like the last, desperate breath of something long dead.

I was no longer in the lab, no longer in the academy. The ground beneath my feet was soft, like damp earth after autumn rain. Mist curled around my ankles, carrying the sweet-sharp scent of decay, fallen leaves, mushrooms, and something older, something that reminded me of the carefully preserved specimens in Dorian's study. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

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