Page 79 of Unveiled

Xiathen inclined their head. “Inside.”

The interior glowed with candlelight and soft wards woven through the air like drifting threads. The shelves curved in impossible arcs, revealing books stacked in spirals that defied weight and geometry.

The Triarc stood in a semicircle near the central scrying basin. Melanus stood tall, silver-eyed, her expression unreadable. Cariah clasped her hands in patience. Salis stood firm, her unseeing eyes focused into space.

Melanus spoke first. “The Veil trembles. Something presses upon it.”

Cariah continued, “We need sight. Clarity. A glimpse of what seeks this valley.”

Salis nodded. “And I believe Adrian’s mind, attuned to the Mark, is the clearest conduit.”

Connor tensed. “No.”

Adrian sighed. “Connor…”

“No,” Connor repeated. “Every time something needs doing, they look at you. And every time it hurts you.”

“This won’t hurt him,” Cariah said gently.

“It shouldn’t,” Salis corrected.

Connor growled under his breath. “That doesn’t help.”

Adrian stepped closer. “This is our fight. I’m part of this bond too.”

Connor leaned in, matching his intensity. “But you’re the one the Council wants. You’re the one they’re hunting. Opening your mind to whatever’s out there…”

“Might be the one thing that saves us,” Adrian finished.

Their eyes held for a long moment. Neither giving, neither backing down.

Max muttered, “Just kiss and make—”

Fraser elbowed him hard. Max shut up.

Xiathen raised their hands. “This is not a forcing of the mind. It is an opening of perception. Adrian will remain anchored. You”—they nodded to Connor—“will keep that anchor strong.”

Connor bristled. “How?”

“By being present,” Xiathen said simply. “He trusts you.”

The bond pulsed faintly between them—warm, undeniable.

Adrian drew a careful breath. “I’m doing this.”

Connor stared at him, his jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Then, reluctantly, “Aye. Fine. But I stay with you.”

Adrian nodded once. “You’d better.”

The Triarc guided Adrian to the scrying basin, its water shimmering with faint threads of gold and blue. Connor stood behind him, one hand hovering near Adrian’s shoulder—close enough to anchor, far enough not to intrude.

“Open your mind,” Melanus said softly. “Not to the world, but to the pattern beneath it.”

Adrian exhaled, letting his awareness soften. Light. Breath. Warmth. The hum beneath the Athenaeum floor. Shapes flickered, their edges sharp. Connor’s presence behind him was a steady, grounding pulse.

Cariah’s voice drifted like a breeze. “Good…now let the Pattern whisper…”

Something shifted. A shadow. A cold ripple beneath the water. A low, brittle sound like frost fracturing in darkness.