7. Ban My Bloodline

seven

Ban My Bloodline

Alessia

Two Months Later

T he candle next to my bed flickers as I flip through one of Enid’s journals. It turns out that she had many from throughout the years stashed away in her private office.

Though they haven’t revealed anything useful about my shadow-self, I’m engrossed. I’m still not sure who Enid was to me, but it doesn’t matter—I have her blood. We’re connected somehow, and her writing makes me feel close to family I’ll never know.

I should be sleeping or cleaning my court to prepare for an official reopening, whatever that looks like, but instead, my eyes are wide as I scan the pages.

Finally, I’ve arrived at entries chronicling more about our bloodline. The curly script draws me in as I read about spiritcaller power.

— all Lírshadows are spiritcallers. Our magic quells the spirits, allowing them to merge with the Soultrees. The trees recycle the deceased’s magic back into the land and then deliver the soul to its final resting place—the Otherworld. Soultrees roots reach the Otherworld, the Realm of Resting—

My eyes widen as I devour information about my family’s magic.

— without a spiritcaller to tame the spirits, they might refuse to merge with Soultrees and cross over. The spirits and their magic would be stuck in a state of purgatory, eventually killing the trees and the surrounding land—

— spiritcallers also serve as keepers of death ledgers, marking the names of those who pass and keeping records in the muniment room. It is believed to be a request for good luck in their next life—

Little by little, things start to make sense. Explanations for my magic and the dying court make the last couple of months of scouring books and journals worth it, but it’s still not exactly what I’m seeking.

Everything I’ve read about spiritcaller magic is passive—not violent like my shadow-self. Now, I’ve begun to accept that it’s like Rainer being a vampyr and a fearcaller. I’m a spiritcaller and I have a shadow-self. Primary and secondary magic, perhaps?

Flicking through the journals, I search for something about a shadow-self. Finally, my eyes lock on the phrase.

— Lírshadows are all but spiritcallers; for some, the magic is secondary to something… different. Something darker. It is said that in rare cases, Lírshadows might harbor the power of a darker energy deep within. Strengthening the magic is said to be done through sacrifice…

My heart drops as the passage ends. I sift through the following pages, but when I don’t see any other mentions, I slam the journal shut with a disappointed huff.

The price of my magic is murder. It’s why the voice grew stronger and louder after I sacrificed the lord and lady.

The realization sits in my stomach like thick rot.

All this time down here, and all I’ve found is this painful confirmation that I am destined to be a monster .

Plopping backward, I nestle into the thick quilt. The flickering candle casts soft shadows across the high ceilings. I watch them dance, and my mind whirls—processing the journal, my bond with Rainer, the Trade in Dovenak, and everything in between.

I don’t want this to be my life. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen anyone, and I miss my friends. Rainer has left a weekly food basket at my tree, but he’s been exceptional at honoring my request for space.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope to run into him one day.

I’m no closer to opening my court’s doors. I promised Sheila—the Tradeling Rainer rescued—she would have a place in my court. But I refuse to bring her here unless I know she’ll be safe… from me.

Fern, Das Celyn, Ken, Viv, Ez… all their faces flit through my mind, each one a chain wrapped around my heart. My heart is so heavy that if I were in the sea, it would sink me. The weight of loneliness is suffocating, dragging me down into an abyss.

Leaning over to the side table, I blow out the candle with a forceful exhale and draw the quilt up to my chin. It's the purest darkness I've ever experienced—eerily silent as if the court exists in a void.

How can I help secure the iron, break the curse on the woods, free the Tradelings, and run a whole court if I can’t even manage myself?

For the first time, I start to wonder if Yvanthia was right to ban my bloodline.