Page 40 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Cillian frowned. “But the Duskwood bloodline comes from wolves.”

“Yes,” Selene said.

Kaldrek’s gaze sharpened. “And your mother’s line?”

Cillian opened his mouth, then faltered.

He had not thought of that. Not truly. It felt as though every certainty he once held about himself had been stripped away, layer by layer, revealing nothing but unanswered questions.

His mother’s family had always been ordinary. Unremarkable.

Quiet.

Hadn’t they?

There had been his great-aunt. The one his mother said had gone mad.

The memory stirred uncomfortably. He recalled the whispered reassurances when his own hallucinations first began. Madness runs in families, his mother had said. She suffered too. Yet no one had ever spoken of what plagued her. Only that she dreamed too vividly. Of the sea and the wind. Of stars that called to her in the night, and a humming beneath the earth that never let her rest.

She was always lost, his grandmother had once murmured. Out there.

Cillian shook his head, as though he might dislodge the thought entirely. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “I feel as though I know nothing anymore.”

“I should speak with Evelyne,” Selene said thoughtfully. “She may recall details you do not.”

Selene turned her attention back to Cillian. “May I see your hand?”

He hesitated only a moment before extending it. She took his palm gently, turning it upward, her touch warm as she traced slow, circular patterns against his skin.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed softly. “Reach for it.”

He understood at once. He searched for the faint fracture of light within him, the place where it always waited. At the slightest tug, it answered. The glow rose from his chest, coursing down his arm, pooling into his palm with growing intensity.

Selene continued her soothing motion, grounding him. “Let it gather and take form. I want you to see it.”

Cillian kept his eyes closed, focusing only on the sensation in his hand, careful not to allow the magic to awaken the instinct to shift that lurked beneath his thoughts.

“Open your eyes,” Selene said.

He did.

Light shimmered above his palm, curling in soft wisps before condensing into a brilliant, fiery sphere. A small sun burning radiantly.

Kaldrek exhaled under his breath. “Shit…”

“Look at me,” Selene said calmly. “Breathe. Focus on the purity of it. This magic is good.”

Good. Yes, the word resonated deeply within him. Healing. Purpose.

Selene slowly withdrew her hand.

The moment her touch left him, his concentration splintered. Light flared, illuminating the shop before collapsing back into his body in a rush that knocked the air from his lungs. He gasped, clutching at his chest as the force reverberated through him.

Kaldrek was on his feet instantly, steadying him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Once Cillian’s breathing had settled, Selene said, “This will take practice. Everything you are feeling is new. I have had years to learn control. You have only had days.” She paused. “Yes. Much practice.”

“We do not have the luxury of time,” Kaldrek said flatly. “Alaric is drowning in Vaelora’s blood magic, and Cillian is our only hope.”