Later that night...
The mist was not a fog of water, but a haze of raw, unspent energy. It stretched out in every direction, a blindingly bright expanse of white and silver that offered no horizon and no floor. Thae stood in the center of the void, her breathing coming in shallow, ragged bursts. Every few seconds, the air would tear open. Jagged arcs of lightning, violet and gold, ripped through the mist with a sound like shattering glass, the flashes illuminating the frantic, disorganized state of her own mind.
"It is a heavy burden to carry alone," a voice said.
The voice was melodic, carrying a weight of ancient calm that seemed to push back the thunder. Thae turned, her hands igniting with a faint, flickering amber heat that died as quickly as it appeared. Standing a few paces away was a figure draped in robes of woven sunlight, their features blurred by the radiance of the mist. They were alluring, an effortless presence that felt like the first cool breeze after a long fever.
"Who are you?" Thae asked, her voice echoing in the vastness.
"A friend to those who burn too brightly," the figure replied, stepping closer. The lightning arched above them, but the figure did not flinch. "You are cracking, little bird. Your shell was never meant to hold the sun. If you continue like this, there will be nothing left but ash."
Thae looked down at her hands. The silver ringing in her mind was louder here, a constant, high-pitched scream. "Veylen says I just need to ground it. He says I can learn to control it."
"Veylen is a man of stone and ice," the visitor said, their tone sympathetic. "He understands the earth, but he does not understand the light. He can offer you a cage, but we can offer you a foundation. There is a stone, ancient and mythic, carved from the heart of the first star. It can drink the fire you carry. It can make you whole, and permanent."
The figure reached out, a hand appearing through the light. "Join us, Thae. Leave the mortuary behind. Leave the cold shadows. You were meant for the sky, not the grave."
Thae looked at the hand, the allure of the offer pulling at the very core of her resonance. For a moment, the lightning stopped. The silence was absolute. She reached out, her fingers inches from the visitor's, when the mist above her suddenly turned a violent, blinding white. A massive bolt of lightning, larger than any before, descended with a deafening roar.
It cut through the mist, striking her.
Thae snapped upright in her bed, her lungs gasping for air that tasted of dust and clove oil. The heavy wool blankets were kicked to the foot of the bed, and her skin was slick with a cold sweat. The silver ringing was still there, a dull, nagging thrum at the base of her skull, but the blinding white of the dream was gone, replaced by the grey, early morning shadows of her room at Morrow's End.
She sat there for a long time, her heart hammering against her ribs. The figure's voice was still a lingering echo, a promise of a stone that could stop the burning.
From the hallway, a sound drifted through the heavy oak door. It was a melodic, bubbly giggle, followed by the sharp, metallic snick of a fan opening.
Thae's eyes narrowed. The memory of the hallway hit her with the force of a physical blow—the girl in the floral yukata, the way the shadow-hex had been unmade with a single flick of a wrist, and the clinical, cold amusement in those golden eyes.
She swung her legs out of bed, her knees feeling like they were made of glass. She leaned against the wall, using the cold stone to steady herself as she made her way toward the door. Every step was a battle against the vertigo, but the need to see the threat was stronger than the pain.
She reached the kitchen doorway just as Viola was leaning over the table, tapping her fan against Zhada's arm.
"Oh, you're awake!" Viola chirped, her golden eyes snapping toward the doorway. She didn't move to help. She just watched Thae with a playful, understated smirk. "I was starting to think you were going to sleep until the next tower fell."
Zhada looked up, her expression bright with a relief that made Thae's stomach turn. "Thae! You look better. Come sit. Veylen's niece was just telling us about her home."
Thae didn't move from the doorway. She didn't look at the tea, and she didn't look at Zhada. Her gaze was locked onto Viola, her hands trembling slightly as they gripped the doorframe. The memory of the girl's magic—the way it didn't just fight, but severed—was a jagged warning in her mind.
"Thae," Veylen said, his voice a low, grounding hum from the head of the table. "Sit down. You need to eat."
"I saw what she did," Thae said, her voice raspy and thin.
Viola giggled and fanned herself, the patterns of Belladonna and Oleander blurring into a colorful streak. "I saved your life, you mean? You're welcome, by the way. You were making such a mess of that hallway. It was very loud."
"You didn't save me," Thae countered, her resonance beginning to flare, a faint amber glow appearing at the tips of her fingers. "You unmade the spell. You stripped it. No one does that."
"Family does," Viola said, her voice dropping into a sweet, disarming register. She looked at Zhada and winked. "She's so intense, isn't she? I think she needs more chamomile."
Zhada stood up, reaching for a clean mug. "She's just tired, Viola. Thae, sit. Viola is family. She's here to help."
Thae looked at Zhada, then at Veylen, who was watching her with a silent, analytical intensity. None of them sees it; she thought. Or perhaps they didn't want to see it. The girl was a Graveblood; she had the eyes and the scent, and for them, that was enough to bridge the gap.
Thae backed away from the doorway, her defenses up like a wall of iron. "I'm not hungry," she said, before turning and retreating back into the shadows of the hallway.
Behind her, she heard Viola's soft, musical voice resume its story.
"She's a prickly one, isn't she, Uncle V? Don't worry, I'm sure she'll come around. Everyone eventually does."