Midnight Moon (The Bleeding Crown Book 1)

Chapter 27 - Bloodline

The magic seemed to spark the moment it touched Veanna, and she drew in a sharp breath at the sensation that her hand had plunged into snow. Her mind shrieked to make it stop, to pull away, to run from the memories of freezing, numbing agony claiming her body.

She forced herself to breathe through the panic as the chill spread along her arm, across her chest, and up her neck. Through sheer force of will, she didn't scream when the sensations crept across her cheeks and her view of the world tinted yellow.

Gritting her teeth, Veanna focused her thoughts on Ren, on everything she wanted and needed to discover. Something cold and sharp seeped into her mind, then dark fingers prised her skull open and that malevolent presence invaded her once again.

She didn't know whether she screamed. She didn't know whether she collapsed or remained upright. She could sense nothing of the world around her. Her vision snapped to black, then swirling light, then the impression of shooting through the air faster than birds could fly.

Veanna reminded herself she had to follow this connection wherever it led, as she pitched downwards and burrowed into the earth. After what may have been seconds or hours the vision stabilised, and she rushed through corridors of dark stone until catapulting into a great cavern.

A single shaft of sunlight broke into the area, but she saw as though darkness was no barrier. Great stone blocks lined the walls and descended to the centre in tiers. At first, she thought they were more altars, yet as she was brought closer she recognised tombs.

Veanna hoped this realisation might be enough to free her, but she drew onwards, down to one of the grandest coffins, just outside the patch of sunlight. She recognised her snowdrop crest etched on its surface amongst other indecipherable symbols, then was pulled inescapably inside. She wished she couldn't see through the darkness as she came face-to-face with a skeleton. More symbols were carved into the bones, and it was surrounded by cloth and jewels that had not yet been ravaged by time like the flesh that would once have stared back at her.

Then the skull's jaw opened.

This time she would certainly have screamed, but her body was far from her control. Sensation returned enough to realise her lips were moving against her own volition, a voice that wasn't hers yet was horribly familiar jumping from her tongue in foreign sounds she barely recognised as words. Her mouth moved in time with the skull's motions, as if Ren had already returned from death through her.

The skull froze at last, inanimate once more, and her numbness returned. She felt a chill of fear that she might remain stuck in that coffin, but after a few moments she was tugged away again. She whirled back from the tomb faster than she arrived, flying through the earth and sky with the shadows of eye sockets imprinted on her vision.

Sensation returned in a flash: the world was bright around her, her body was under her control, and the warmth of life drove away the terrible cold that consumed her being.

Veanna snatched her hand from the altar, screwing her eyes shut against the assault of sunlight. She fell sideways in her rush to draw back, managing to crawl a few paces before her body rebelled and she retched onto the temple steps, her trembling arms barely supporting her.

Then warm hands were on her, lifting her into arms that surrounded her like armour. She sobbed, all decorum fleeing as she curled in on herself. She longed for warmth, for security, and most of all to never be touched by that presence again. They may not have summoned Ren, but even the faintest connection to him had filled her with an almost overwhelming fear, as her mind scrambled to grasp the inconceivable magnitude of his power and his will to return.

Gentle fingers brushed hair from her face and dried the tears on her cheeks. Soft cloth was tied around the finger they had bled. She heard an angry shout and a wavering reply, but her reeling mind couldn't decipher words.

Her eyes opened a crack and she found herself looking up into Tia's face, contorted with fear and fury. Tia's arms held her protectively and Neyerith was visible over her shoulder, pale and jittery.

"I'm okay," Veanna croaked, and all eyes snapped to her. It wasn't a lie - despite the shock and adrenaline coursing through her veins, every breath she drew reasserted control over her own mind and body - and she struggled to sit up.

She twisted to the focus of Tia's outrage and saw Calu, cowering on the other side of the altar. The boy looked terrified, tear tracks on his own face and his entire body trembling.

"I'm okay," she repeated, her voice stronger and surer, and his eyes met hers.

"I'm sorry," he whispered through bloodless lips, "I didn't know..."

Veanna forced her body to stand. Her legs shook, but she was determined to have mastery over her movements. She walked unsteadily over to Calu and rested a hand on his shoulder, hoping she could reassure him despite the tremors passing through her own limbs. "It's alright, we got what we needed. You've probably saved my life again."

He nodded, still visibly distressed but at least looking less guilty.

"Do you know where we need to go?" Neyerith asked. His voice shook a little too, his knuckles white where he gripped his daggers. Whatever had happened to her, it must have been almost as shocking to watch as to experience.

"Yes." Veanna retrieved a waterskin from her pack, swilling the taste of blood and bile from her mouth and taking a long draft before continuing. "Ren's body is in one of the royal crypts; his coffin is in the centre of the main chamber." She considered the snatches of landscape she glimpsed before her plunge underground. "I think it was in the Kazeal Valley."

"I thought you burnt your dead," Tia said as she rose, picking up her dropped sword.

Veanna nodded and began to pace - now that her body was her own again, she held too much nervous energy to stay still. "We do, but these tombs are ancient: in Ren's time we must still have buried bodies, and as King, he was put in one of the royal tombs. There are a few dotted around the kingdom from before Beyall was the capital."

"Cremation is one of the reasons blood magic is rare now," Calu added, his voice quiet and shaking. "For spells powerful enough to require a full human sacrifice... Well, there isn't much of the body left to burn and release the soul."

Veanna shivered. "Did I speak during the spell?" she asked quickly. "I felt like I was talking, but I didn't understand it."

"You said something," Neyerith answered, "But I think it was in the Old Tongue."

"It was; it's the Foretelling," Calu supplied. "It's been talked about a lot in the Order - it was a prophecy left by Ren about his return - but I don't know what the words mean."

"I do." Tia bristled as everyone turned to stare at her. "The Old Tongue is still spoken in the Outlands, rather than whatever bastardisation we are using now."

Veanna gave a small smile for the first time in hours. "So you can understand it?" she asked eagerly.

Tia nodded, her gaze softening as their eyes met. "It is not difficult to translate." She cleared her throat and her voice took on a rhythmic tone.

"The rivers will run red,

And the stars will hold no light.

House Risalus will rise

When the midnight moon shines bright."

Veanna's stomach tensed at the mention of House Risalus, her family's name - and Ren's. Nothing else made sense, but she could only hope it wasn't the recipe for success the Order seemed to believe it was.

"Very impressive."

Her heart flipped and they all whirled at the slow clapping that sounded through the ruins. A man strolled towards them through the temple, unnervingly casual. His skin was dark umber, with a cropped black beard, and dreadlocks pulled back from his face. The hem of his robes was embellished with white trim, stark against the deep red as the symbols of the Order of Kysuk rippled with his steps.