Page 61 of Stars in Mist

Killen stirred. ‘We pan it from a stream at the back of this house. The monks showed us how.’

Riv glanced up at his son, whose hand pointed towards the back of the home, and tilted his head at the young man. ‘Are you sure you’re blind? You seem to see just fine.’

‘Many have eyes, but they refuse to see. My sight comes from honing my other twenty-odd senses, and they more than compensate for my blindness.’

‘Twenty?’

Élisa spoke up. ‘Killen is well versed in kinaesthesia, thermo, and chronoception. He also has precognition and prescience skills and electro and magnetoreception, and can combine all senses with multi-synesthesia.’

Riv raised a brow. ‘All due to his hawkstone?’

Élisa nodded. ‘It gives its wearer certain abilities, like he said earlier. But only Killen has enhanced it to levels I’ve never seen. However, it is burrowing deeper into his brain, causing great pain. If it is not removed or adjusted, it will kill him.’

‘What’s causing this?’

‘We believe it’s the Ka’SHärd. For many years, we’ve detected strange signals from it, waves of energy that pump out over the fissures and dunes and cause us great pain.’

Riv leaned forward, intrigued. ‘What is the Ka’SHärd?’

The silver-haired woman filled him in. ‘It’s a mysterious phenomenon—an offshoot of the nebula to the planet’s south. We’ve only seen it once, which was more than enough. It almost rendered us unconscious. That’s how we knew it was affecting us. To continue our life here, we must get the necessary aid. To remove what is harming us.’

Killen interjected. ‘What you want, mother, may not be what’s needed.’

With that, the young man rose in a fluid motion to his feet and gathered up the used plates, lifting them with dexterity and prowling to the kitchen, where he cleaned them.

‘You can’t tell his sight is affected,’ Riv murmured, unconvinced.

‘Nada. He’s a gifted young man.’

‘How old is he?’ Riv held his breath as he waited for her answer.

‘Twenty-six.’

Which meant she had indeed been pregnant when she left him. He squeezed the rock cup in his hand so hard it almost shattered. He gazed at it unseeing as a crack formed along its centre, where the blood-red wine seeped out.

Riv was desperate to rage, scream, and howl out his pain. He’d missed on so much, and for what?

He’d been ripped raw, his soul torn to its core, vacillating between ecstasy and wanting to reveal himself. The need to apologize profusely for not being in their life so far flooded him, as did his deep desire to maximize their time together moving forward.

‘I’ll take that.’

Riv jolted as Killen uncurled his rigid fingers from the cracked mug and took it, tossing a napkin into his lap.

Riv looked into the ghost-like, savage visage of his son.

At the same time, an unexpected calm washed over him as if a healing peace had been pushed through him.

Killen’s lips turned up at the ends before he turned and walked back to the kitchen, the damaged vessel in his hands.

Riv cleaned his bloodied hand with the napkin and rose to his feet.

‘May I be excused?’ he growled.

He needed to step away from her beauty, that pain inflicted each time he glanced at her.So, too, from his strapping adult son and his uncanny mysticism.

He was desperate to get his bearings, salvage his ragged soul, and breathe.

Without waiting for an answer, Riv loped to the bathroom he’d spied in the back, splashing the cold water running straight from the rock face over his heated face.

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