Page 102 of Unveiled

The ground bucked. Connor went down as a wave of pain smashed through him like a freight train. The pain was instant, white, searing, invasive. Voices crowded his skull.

You are not welcome.

As quickly as the pain arrived, it was gone. Connor drew a deep breath as Adrian tapped his arm. “Are you okay? You went a little pale.”

Connor nodded. “I’m good. Just wondering what the hell’s going to happen next.”

The river split. Blue light slashed through its bed before sealing again, exhaling steam, carrying an aura of panic.

Xiathen arrived, flustered and ashen. “We need to destroy that.” He pointed at the rend and the crystal.

Before he could say more, the oldest oak in Glengáill cracked open, its roots disappearing into a violet fissure.

“That fault line and the magic,” Adrian muttered, “it opens through me. It’s the Heartline.”

“Then we must close it,” Xiathen muttered. “Use your stone, Adrian. When I direct the power from my staff into the crystal, focus your energy into your totem and unleash it as well. Perhaps that will be enough to close it for now.” He looked at Connor. “You too, aim your magic into its depths. We can use all the help we can get.”

Connor nodded, flexing his fingers. Since when did I get superpowers? But he was grateful for them, no matter their provenance.

Adrian raised Irial’s stone as Xiathen lifted his staff and slammed it into the ground. A wave of energy rippled around it, and Xiathen aimed it toward the opening.

“Now, Adrian. Connor,” he shouted, and they all directed their efforts toward the Heartline.

“This mark is not yours,” Adrian shouted into the rend. “Go back.”

Connor was less eloquent. “Fuck the hell off,” he yelled as he blasted the rend with everything he could summon from his fingers. He saw the giant ball of energy, power, whatever, hit its target, coalescing into one colourful sphere, slamming into the opening. A fist through glass.

There was a resounding clap, and slowly, the Heartline sealed inch by inch. The crystal shattered into pieces, falling into the rend’s depths.

The rend was sealed.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Connor

The village was silent. Not a peaceful silence, not the warm hush of evening fires and muffled footsteps in the streets. This was the stillness that comes after lightning strikes, when everything waits to see what survived.

Xiathen had gone back to the Athenaeum to reassure the townspeople and the visiting clan members that all was well and there was nothing to worry about.

A little white lie wasn’t so bad, Connor thought grimly as he marched angrily through the village to meet Xiathen in the library, Adrian at his side. His valley was being ripped apart and brutalised. Yet, even under attack, it reassured Connor, expressing gratitude for his efforts and promising to do all it could to help him. Connor felt its murmurings in his bones. His birthplace sent soft touches across the air, grounding him, softening the anger he carried.

“Out of the way,” he snapped at a group of villagers staring wide-eyed near the stairwell. “Now.” He wasn’t feeling that charitable, despite the land’s efforts. They scattered.

Adrian stared at him. “Do you have to growl at everyone?”

Connor glared down at him. “I’ll growl at the damn wind if it looks at you wrong right now.”

Adrian’s mouth twitched. “Domineering brute.”

“Fragile Frenchman.”

“Not that fragile,” Adrian murmured with a knowing grin.

Xiathen was waiting for him. The lore-keeper stood in the centre of the communal area, hands folded, expression grim.

“The fault line has sealed,” he said softly. “For now.”

“For now?” Connor growled. “What about Adrian?”