Page 76 of The Book of Legends
My blood runs cold. He is on his way to see you.
“For us,” Kainen corrects. “He will arrive quicker because of you.”
I remark sourly, “I'm bait.”
“No,” he says, voice like steel. “You were. That was before I came to understand anything crucial.”
My eyebrows raise. “And what's that?”
From the floor, he rises and tosses a loose black tunic. His back is illuminated by morning light, revealing profound scars cut across his skin—brutal memories of fights waged and endured. My chest hurts at the sight.
Kainen turns back; his face is unreadable. “Selene, you do not come from this planet. But you came here for a purpose. I also believe I know what it is.”
I get up gradually. “Tell me.”
Instead of responding, he walks to the mirror on the far side of the room.
“You came through this,” he says. “Do you still have it?”
I hum. “I have it in my trunk. Why?”
“Between worlds, there are quite a few gateways. Most are lost, broken. Still, mirrors vary from one another.” He turns to look at me. “Their creation came from the Bloodborne, the first magistrates. They could link worlds with a concept. Among their possessions is your mirror. You will inevitably be surrounded by their charm.”
In my chest, my heart pounds. Are you implying I am magical?
“You could be the final surviving connection to the Old Blood,” I'm suggesting. “Only one person able to halt the approaching events.”
Though it sounds empty, I chuckle. “That's ludicrous. I am just a college student who dropped through a mirror after losing her aunt.”
“Your aunt,” he replies, voice softening. “Did she ever talk about her hometown? About the history of your family?”
“No,” I say quietly. But she had books—unique ones. Stories of a forest that communicates, a blood stream, a prince created from shadows. They seemed to me just fairy tales.
“They were memories,” Kainen remarks. “Your aunt served more than simply a protector. She was watching out for you, preparing you.”
The air shifts. Something old stirs.
“You were not merely someone stumbling through a gateway. You were meant to go back.”
He reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine.
“I cannot guarantee what will be simple going forward. Maybe safe. But I promise, I will defend you with everything I have.”
I should bolt. Demand answers. Not to be carried into a narrative I cannot grasp.
But I grip his hand instead.
Then we deal with it together.
He lets out breaths as if he had been holding that one for millennia.
By evening, the wind tastes like an approaching storm.
The courtyard hums with preparations; armor is fastened tightly, enchantments spoken over metal, Fae warriors assembled around flickering flames.
Magnus points sharply from across the stone walkway toward me. “You're not staying behind, are you?”
I raise my chin. “No.”
