Page 97 of Unveiled

Adrian woke to screaming. It wasn’t human or Nightwrought. It was something in between. He bolted upright, his heart slamming against his ribs. Connor’s hand caught his shoulder instantly.

“It’s outside,” Connor murmured, his voice gravelly from lack of sleep. “Not inside.”

Adrian stared at him. “That’s meant to comfort me?”

Connor didn’t answer. They dressed quickly and made their way to the battlements, Adrian keeping one hand pressed over the mark as though it might burn through his ribs.

The dawn sky was grey, bruised, crawling with low clouds. And the valley was glowing. Faint lines of light spiderwebbed across the ground, through fields, along paths, and circling homes. Cracks in the surface of their world.

Adrian’s breath caught. “Oh fuck,” he whispered. “Connor.”

Connor’s jaw clenched. “I know.”

Moira and Fraser joined them, both looking exhausted.

“It started an hour ago,” Fraser said quietly. “A little at first. Then it spread.”

Moira genuflected. “It’s as if the ground is remembering last night.”

“No,” Adrian murmured. “Not remembering.” He stared at the glowing fractures. They pulsed faintly, like the mark, but colder. “They’re responding.”

Connor frowned. “To what?”

Adrian turned his head slowly. “To the refusal.”

Connor’s stomach dropped. “Adrian.”

“They’re opening many rifts,” Adrian said. “All at once. Smaller. Hidden.” He waved a hand. “So the valley weakens. So we don’t notice until it’s too late.”

Moira stepped back, her hand covering her mouth. “Blessed Gaia.”

“The Council is angry,” Fraser muttered. “Like a bairn who lost its toy.”

Adrian shook his head. “No. Not angry.”

Connor studied him. “Then what?”

Adrian’s dark, bruised, ancient eyes held too much knowledge as they lifted to the horizon. “They’re preparing.”

Connor felt the bottom drop out of the world. “For what?”

Adrian looked down at the mark, which pulsed under his palm. “For war.”

The ground beneath them shook. A long, low vibration running up Adrian’s legs and into his spine. He gasped as the mark flared, bright enough to shine through his coat. Connor grabbed him as Adrian staggered.

The sky split, not with light, but with sound. A crack like thunder, sharp and insistent. The glow along the valley lines brightened, twitching like veins under a dying creature’s skin. And then, from somewhere deep beneath the earth, came a whisper:

We are not done.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Adrian

The cracks of light in the valley didn’t recede. They dimmed, but only the way embers dim after a wildfire. Heat still curled beneath them, waiting for a spark. Waiting for him.

Adrian felt it every time he blinked. A tug. A thread tightening. He sat slumped in the cushioned armchair in Connor’s private study, arms wrapped around his ribs, his breath shallow as he tried to ease the grinding pressure inside his chest. The fire flared. The castle hummed softly. But sound dulled around him, swallowed by a distant roar he could not escape.

Connor paced behind him. Adrian didn’t need to turn around to know it. His awareness stretched out too wide, and too sensitive, until Connor’s presence was heat in the air, and its own gravity that tugged at every breath Adrian took.