Page 80 of Draekora

Aeylia, I’m terribly sorry, but the bane of my existence needs someone to hold his hand for a few hours, so I have to leave you on your own this morning. (Don’t worry, I’ll make sure His Royal High-handedness regrets asking for my help.) We’ll be back after dinner, so enjoy your day today and we’ll see you later tonight. Kyia.

Underneath Kyia’s neat script was another message, this one also in familiar writing.

A, As you can see, Kyia is thrilled to be spending the day with me in service to the crown. You might as well start planning our wedding now, since I have it on good authority that she’s a sure thing. R.

Laughing at Roka’s dry humour, Alex set the parchment aside and glanced around the library, wondering how she’d spend the day. She could explore more of the city, of course, or do a myriad of other things. But what Alex really wanted was knowledge. And for the first time since arriving in the past, she found herself alone and surrounded by exactly that.

Striding over to the nearest walled bookshelf, she began scanning the titles, remembering that Roka had once said the tomes were sorted into alphabetised categories around the room. Alex first hit up the section labelledAscorava, which held all the Meyarins’ written knowledge relating to weaponry, and then she found the ancient history section where she picked out several particularly old-looking books. Lastly, she stepped up one of the ladders until she reached the third floor bookshelves and scanned the category that she was most interested in—Vanorias, or as it translated in the common tongue, ‘Healing’.

Teetering down the ladder and wobbling to her table with her arms laden with books, Alex wasn’t sure how she managed to avoid breaking her neck. She dropped her heavy load onto the desk, taking a seat and pulling the closest book towards her.

It took four hours, five return trips up the ladder and eighteen more medical books before Alex finally found what she was after. Rubbing her strained eyes, she sat up with a jolt when she found the miniscule font hidden in the appendix of an impossibly thick tome. She leaned forward and squinted to make out the fine writing, her breathing coming quicker with each sentence.

Menada dae Loransa, she read, before mentally translating as she went along:

The Claiming of Life creates a bond between one living being and another, enabling them to share energy in the most dire of physical health conditions…

Anxious to get to what she needed, Alex skimmed a chunk of the summary that Aven had once described—not to mention Alex had experienced firsthand—and jumped right to the part she was after. With shaking hands and a thumping heart, she read on:

When the ritual is first performed, it is a battle of wills, where the strongest mind wins out. Since the bond is used as a means of healing in extreme situations only — for those nearing death with no other option but to bind their life force to that of another — the healer will almost always be in a position where their will reigns supreme over the individual in need.

Head spinning, Alex frantically eyed the page for anything that might help to free Jordan from the bond.

To complete the ritual and Claim the life of another, there must be a direct blood link between the giver and the receiver — between the healthy and the injured. A simple cut on the hand is the most common practice, however any open wound will suffice.

Joining their blood, the performer of the ritual must impress their will onto the mind of the recipient by mentally commanding the words —

“Trae Menada sae.” Alex then repeated the command in the common tongue, her voice barely a breath of sound. “I Claim you.”

Was that really all it took? It seemed too easy, too simple.

Shaking her head, Alex skimmed over the next part detailing the Claimed’s everlasting obedience to the creator and the technicalities of how the link transferred life forces. What she wasreallylooking for was right at the end, a single sentence confirming what Aven had already told her:

Once the Claimed has returned to good health, the creator of the bond may terminate the connection by joining blood again and mentally calling the words —

“Trae Gaverran sae.” Alex’s voice hitched as she read the phrase that spilled like written hope across the page. “I Release you.”

After the Claimed willingly accepts their Release from the bond, neither party will retain any lasting effect. They will each be an individual entity once more, with no further connection between them.

Alex felt tears well in her eyes. She still had to find a way to convince the Aven of the future to willingly Release Jordan, but at least there was now hope that it truly was possible to free him. If she found the right leverage, perhaps Alex would be able to barter for his life. Aven had little use for her best friend other than as a means to hurt her. All she had to do was find something the Meyarin wantedmore, something he was willing to trade in exchange for Jordan. Perhaps Alex herself, it if came to that. Though, she quickly realised that might very well lead to the catastrophic future the Library prophesised.

Ideas coming to her as swiftly as she swatted them away, Alex brushed a hand across her wet cheeks, drying her tears, and turned to read the final entry at the bottom of the page, this one written in a different hand:

ADDENDUM: As of the third month in the year of the Desteroth, let it be known that any and all blood-bonding rituals are hereby forbidden. To perform such an act on a living being will result in immediate execution.

“That’s some heavy reading you’ve got there, Aeylia,” teased a voice in her ear.

Startled, Alex snapped the book shut with a loudwhumpand spun around to find Aven directly behind her. She knew her eyes were wide and she could feel her heart thumping wildly in her chest, but her reaction wasn’t uncalled for. Just how long had he been standing over her shoulder? How much had he read? What if—

“Still curious aboutMenada dae Loransa?” he asked, moving beside her to lean casually against the table. “I can understand your fascination, especially given what you went through.”

Seeing she was lost for words, Aven reached out and took her left hand in his, uncurling her fingers until he could see the silvery scar slashed across her palm.

“It doesn’t seem fair that you had to suffer the agony of Sarnaph poison when a simple bonding ritual would have healed you in a matter of minutes.”

“You know what they say,” Alex managed to choke out. “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”

“In your case, no truer words can be said,” Aven replied. Softly, oh so softly, he traced his fingers over her scar before releasing her hand altogether. “How you lived with those people for so many years, I’ll never know. Your inner fire is something I envy, that strength of will within you.”

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