Page 70 of Darkness and Deceit
Blue splinters crawl across the surface like veins of frost cracking through glass, threading outward from the center.
And then somethingelseignites beneath it.
Purple light.
Four distinct threads flare from the core of the scryer. One is tangled with the corrupted blue.
Kai.
But the other three burst outward in different directions. One arcs toward the tower where Vaughn’s probably brooding on the rooftop, smoking through his second cigarette. Another veers off like it’s reaching for the dormitories. Simon’s room, maybe, if he even slept last night.
The last... I feel before I see it.
It pulls toward Augustus.
The scryer isn’t just reacting to Kai anymore.
It’s reacting tome.
I feel it deep in my chest—like the magic isn’t pointing at me.
It’sanchoredin me.
But even as I stare, something flickers at the edge of my vision. Something gray and faint. Another thread? It’s not fully formed or solid like the others. It’s just… hovering like it hasn’t yet decided if it belongs.
“Stop.” Augustus’ voice slices through the air like a slap.
I flinch and rip my hand back.
The purple threads vanish.
The scryer steadies, its surface dulling, as if none of it ever happened.
Only the gold and blue remain, flickering against Kai’s chest.
Augustus doesn’t look at me right away. When he does, it’s… calculating.
“What was that?” I whisper.
He shakes his head once. “An echo, maybe. A false flare from your resonance with him.”
“That didn’t feel false.”
“Magic is not always precise,” he replies quickly. Too quickly.
And that? That’s not like him. Keepers don’t guess. They don’tdismisswhat they don’t understand.
Unless they’re afraid of what it means.
I clear my throat. “The other threads… they felt real. Not just possible. Like they’re already inside me. Why haven’t they… snapped? Or whatever it’s called when it happens?”
Augustus finally looks at me, really looks, and for the first time, he hesitates.
“Because not all bonds awaken at once,” he says. “Some require mutual acceptance. Others form under pressure. Grief. Magic. Sometimes… it’s simply a matter of time.”
“So they’re dormant?” I ask.
“That would be the closest Keeper term, yes. Dormant. Potential, but unrealized.”
