“Do we know anything about this person? Are they even home?” I whispered.
Mom sighed. “Syrin said he was a friend. That he has a private room and knows how to keep quiet. Whether he’s home…”
She knocked again.
A rustling came from inside. “We’re closed!” someone yelled, the sound slightly muffled by the door. “If you didn’t make the delivery window, then hold your goods until tomorrow!”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Mom said firmly. “We need to speak with Eldan.”
A scraping sound came from inside, then steps and the door yanked open. A young man appeared—early twenties, a little taller than me, well-kept dark hair with a short beard.
And he was glaring.
“Someone put you up to this? Selric?” He cast us a suspicious look, then ducked slightly to catch a glimpse of the face under Syrin’s hood.
He froze, then scrambled back. “Syrinthinor?”
He glanced between us, then opened the door wider. “Get inside.”
I tugged Syrin forward, and the Light followed, Mom on our heels.
The door slammed shut behind us, and the young man had barely turned around before he was looking Syrin over. “What under Veris’ sky is wrong with you?!”
“You’re Eldan?” Mom asked.
The young man gave a sharp nod, not taking his eyes off of Syrin.
“Syrinthinor, what is this?”
Syrin didn’t respond. Given how the Light communicated, I wasn’t sure it could respond.
Eldan’s eyes ran over Syrin again, probably noting the too straight posture. “I’ve never seen his eyes glow like that. Never saw his sister’s eyes glow like that, and Light knows I spent enough time with her.”
Syrin’s hand swung forward and landed on my wrist again, pressing memories at me. It recognized Eldan. Liked him. It didn’t like the way he was looking at Syrin now. That seemed dangerous.
Eldan stared at the hand on my wrist, and I shifted uncomfortably. “He’s…” I glanced at Syrin. “He just overextended.”
Eldan let out a huff. “I’ve seen overextended. This isn’t it.”
My shoulders tightened. “He’s never been this overextended before.”
“How do you know?”
I stiffened. “He told me.”
Eldan went quiet, glancing between me and Mom. “How’d Syrinthinor get involved with a Talnori girl, anyway?”
I winced, but it wasn’t exactly surprising that he’d clocked that from my accent. He probably didn’t know what to do with Mom’s slightly American accent.
Truth was best. Or… at least as much truth as seemed safe. “My father is an adventurer. He’s friends with the Keeper. They wanted to hide Syrin somewhere safe. He ended up with us.”
Eldan stiffened, and his voice was suddenly like ice. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” he said sharply.
I jerked back. “No! Of course not, I—”
“No one calls him Syrin,” Eldan said, his voice dangerously quiet. “He hates it. You’d know that if you knew him.”
My heart skipped a beat. What if he called the guards? What if they took Syrin?
“It’s habit,” Mom said quickly, but firmly. “We couldn’t exactly go around calling him Syrinthinor in public. Too many people know that name. It’s not exactly inconspicuous.”
Eldan’s brows drew together.
“He’s already been targeted by assassins,” Mom said firmly. “You don’t think his name would draw attention if it passed through the wrong circles?”
Eldan didn’t speak.
Annoyance twitched through me. And heat. Both weren’t mine, and I panicked a little. Syrin stepped forward, leveling a pointed finger at Eldan. Then he wildly gestured to us, the movement snapping quickly from side to side rather than flowing.
Fantastic. Now we got to explain possessed miming too.
I grabbed Syrin’s hand, trying to jerk him back. The motion rocked Syrin slightly, letting the hood fall back and leaving the glowing golden eyes staring out at Eldan.
He shivered, staring at Syrin’s face. No one moved, and for a moment, the only sound was someone calling outside.
“He’s not glowing,” Eldan said finally. His voice almost sounded nervous. “Not like normal.”
The Light did not like that. Frustration slammed through me.
The Light yanked my hand, and I stumbled a step forward. A sense of demand filled me. Then a series of images: a flame I’d never seen before, golden and hovering in the air. Me. Eldan’s face. Syrin asleep.
Then I was back in eighth grade with a bunch of my classmates staring at me as I gave a presentation. I gasped. It wasn’t just an image. It was like reliving something half-forgotten. Faces blurred, and the scene twisted, but I felt the nervousness as if it were yesterday. The hope that they’d get it.
Then it was gone. It was dark, then a light flickered on. Eldan appeared again, hazy in my mind, then a room with a bed and shelves all around it.
Then it stopped. The Light waited.
My heart pounded as everyone stared at me. “Trina?” Mom prodded.
Had… had someone asked something?
My stomach tightened. It hadn’t been like that before. It had been images, not full memories.
The Light pressed again, annoyed. A bridge flashed. There was a chill in the air as I stared across at Eldan. Then I laughed, a weird sense of joy bubbling up. He broke into a smile.
What? It seemed like it wanted me to explain, but… what was this bridge?
And that one was different. That wasn’t my memory. It wasn’t Syrin’s either. That was a woman laughing. Was that… could that have been Syrin’s sister?
I gripped Syrin’s hand harder, trying to get my bearings.
Frustration hit along with a memory of Syrin on my couch, asleep. An overwhelming sense of demand pressed against my mind.
“Okay!” I yelled. “Just stop for a second.”
Eldan flinched, staring at me wide-eyed. No one said anything, but the Light pushed back a sense of warmth that might have been an apology.
Then Eldan stepped back carefully. My eyes locked onto him, and he just whispered, “What are you?”
I glared, and he stiffened, looking slightly terrified. I took a deep breath, trying to settle myself. It wasn’t entirely clear what the Light wanted, but I got the gist of it. Syrin needed to be in bed as soon as possible, and it wanted Eldan to help.
“I just want Syrinthinor safe,” I said slowly. “He’s asleep, but we had to move him. The Light decided to… help.”
Eldan shook his head slowly. “You’re talking to him. It.”
I froze, then finally nodded. “The Light is talking to me.”
His expression became calculating. “Only Keepers can talk to the Light.”
Wait. Really?
“I’m not a Keeper,” I said quickly.
“That’s exactly what you’d say if you were a Keeper-in-training and knew I wouldn’t want you in my house!” he said sharply.
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t you want me here? Don’t the Keepers heal people?”
He looked at me like I was someone who’d just escaped an insane asylum… which I sort of had, but not because I was crazy!
“Keepers-in-training are volatile. They don’t have enough control yet. They can burn people when they get emotional.”
I glared. “Well, I’m plenty angry with you now, and you’re not burning. Besides, don’t the Keepers all glow?”
He stared long and hard at my eyes, like he was waiting for them to change color. I blinked, suddenly worried. They wouldn’t change… Would they?
The Light pushed a memory of Syrin’s eyes flickering gold. Then a sense of rightness accompanied by one of Syrin’s memories: my eyes still their normal dark brown.
Did that mean they would change or they wouldn’t? It was a no, right?
A sense of calm reassurance and an image of a closed door.
What? That felt like no, but the Light didn’t seem inclined to explain further.
Stolen novel; please report.
Eldan was still staring. I shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t the Keepers have to be from a certain bloodline or something?” I asked.
He glanced between me and Mom. “Maybe you’re a long-lost cousin. Foreigners have claimed Keeper blood before.”
I let out a long breath. “Seriously?”
Mom was still quiet, just watching me. She just looked… thoughtful. Then her eyes snapped to Eldan. “She’s not a Keeper.”
Eldan bit his lip, but he straightened quickly, face serious. “Prove this isn’t some sort of illusion.”
I blinked. “Why would we even try to trick you? You don’t even know what we want.”
He frowned.
“We just want a place to lie low,” I clarified. “For Syrinthinor to sleep.”
“Someone wants him dead,” Mom added. “We couldn’t go to the Tower or the palace, but if you’d like to test for illusions, you’re welcome to,” she said, gesturing toward Syrin.
Hesitantly, Eldan stepped forward and put a hand on Syrin’s arm. Nothing happened. No ripples. Syrin’s head tilted down to watch with the glowing eyes, then stared back up at Eldan. I shivered. It very much felt like a horror movie.
Not helpful, I thought at the Light.
For a beat there was nothing, then emotion pushed in. Embarrassed, almost apologetic.
Eldan just stared up into the glowing eyes, then jerked away. He placed a hand on a bookshelf, leaning there. “You can stay here,” he said quietly.
I raised my eyebrows. Really? That fast?
“Animari would haunt me if I let her brother die on my doorstep,” Eldan clarified.
“Animari chose her friends well,” Mom said, voice soft for once.
Eldan breathed in deeply, staring up at the ceiling before his gaze returned to us. “No one can know he’s here. I know he was being hunted. The city was in an uproar when he left, but also… some of us were relieved. No one wanted him to take an arrow in our own streets.”
“That’s why we’re here. To stay invisible,” Mom said.
He grimaced. “He shouldn’t have to hide. Crithlinor’s not supposed to be like this. There are always problems, but ever since Animari died… it’s been different.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that given my admittedly very limited knowledge of Crithlinor, but apparently, Syrin’s sister’s death had affected more than him.
Eldan looked us over again, then straightened. “Follow me.”
We followed him through a long, narrow room full of shelves with boxes on them. A desk was situated near a doorway, strewn with papers, and I caught a glimpse of crates stacked high through the doorway in an enormous warehouse-like room. Eldan just led us all the way to the back, where a rickety-looking staircase climbed one wall. He scrambled up, and we followed.
It led into the room the Light had showed me, with the bed and the high window. A little washroom was off to the side, and a small table with a couple of chairs was crammed into a corner.
The Light didn’t even ask. It just walked Syrin over to the bed, and he practically collapsed into it.
Eldan just watched, looking unnerved. He glanced back at us, shifting on his feet. “I don’t usually have guests. There might be some blankets in the warehouse. I think an order fell through at some point—”
“We have money,” Mom said. “You won’t have to support us.”
Eldan’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, good. Not that I didn’t want to help. Just times are tough with the upheaval. We employ quite a few foreigners, and that’s made things complicated…” he trailed off, then shook himself. “I know a shop on the docks that should still be open. One of you can stay with him and—”
“We’ll just give you the money for now,” Mom cut in.
“Oh. Guess that works, too. I’ll get some bed rolls and food enough for the three—” His eyes fell on Syrin. “Four of us?”
“Excellent,” Mom said.
Eldan jumped a little. “Anything else?”
Mom shook her head. “Clothes, but I’ll handle that tomorrow.”
I fished out some of the coins from my satchel and held them out to him. He took them from me with the sort of care that showed he still thought I might have bonded the Light.
“Good. Well, settle in then,” Eldan said, then he scrambled down the stairs.
There were sounds of someone going through boxes, some clinking. Probably counting it out or breaking our larger coins. Then, a minute later, the sound of the door swinging shut.
I let out a long breath. “Think we can trust him?”
Mom turned, studying the room. “I’m not sure, but I’m guessing that door leads to the roof,” Mom said, nodding at a slim door set against the far wall. “Might be another way out if we need it.”
She tried the handle. It didn’t open. “Check the dresser for keys,” Mom said, nodding to the drawer set against the wall.
“But if he’s helping—”
“If he really wants to help, he’ll know we need to make sure Syrin is safe.”
I grimaced, but did as ordered. It was full of clothes. It felt awkward going through, but I carefully lifted them, checking as uninvasively as I could. The door hinges squealed. I whirled to find Mom shoving the door open.
“Not exactly quiet,” Mom said, voice disapproving.
I stared. “Did you just pick the lock?”
She shrugged. “Open now,” then walked out.
I scrambled after her. Since when could she pick locks? And why had she never taught me?
The roof was long and slightly sloped. Mom was already halfway across it, examining a rope ladder in a box. “Seems to be in good enough shape,” she said, prodding it.
I just stared out at the city. The sun had set, but it wasn’t so dark that you couldn’t see the buildings yet. Lantern light and spherical light charms were lighting up across the city. I’d gotten a good view from the tower earlier, but… honestly, I’d been more worried about turning into a shadow monster. Now it struck me how big it was; how when we weren’t looking towards the sea, it seemed to stretch on forever.
Mom glanced up at me. “You alright?”
I swallowed. “I just didn’t expect it to be so big. Growing up I always heard about Crithlinor, but it seemed… I don’t know. I thought it would be smaller. Not as big as Earth cities.”
Mom’s lip quirked up. “You thought the magical capital of the eastern world would be smaller?”
I blinked. That did seem sort of silly, but earth cities had technology, and… I guess this one had magic. Maybe it wasn’t so strange.
I shifted uncomfortably. “Talnor’s capital isn’t nearly this big.”
Mom nodded. “Crithnon is a bit of a different league.”
“But… there’s not even a wall or anything. They don’t worry about being attacked?”
Mom’s lips twitched up. “The walls are made of fire, remember? As needed. Syrin can Light them when necessary.” She surveyed the city. “Besides, Crithlinor hasn’t been invaded in 700 years.”
I blinked. That was… It was hard to comprehend how long that was. I hadn’t gotten a lot of Kirathi history, but it felt like Talnor got invaded once a century. “How?”
Mom shrugged. “If you were looking at it like Earth, Crithlinor basically has a nuclear deterrent.” She looked carefully at me. “Syrin could raze this city to the ground if he wanted, Trina.”
I felt a little like I’d been punched. Syrin…
“But the Keepers only use it in defense,” Mom went on, “so people leave them alone. That kind of restraint makes them respected. And resented.”
I stared back at the door where Syrin slept. “And people just… believe that? That the Keepers won’t attack?”
She shrugged. “Maybe not fully, but it’s hard to argue against it when they let pilgrims flood their borders.”
I looked out at the city again. “I mean… there has to be some advantage to that, too.”
Mom smirked. “Oh, there is. You already know about some of them. The academy, for example.”
Crithlinor’s academy was said to be one of the best on Kirath. “I mean, sure, but that always just seemed like… having Harvard in your borders or something. Good, but not…”
Mom stared at me, and I blushed. “I just said something stupid, didn’t I?”
“Harvard,” Mom repeated slowly. “Trina, plenty of Harvard graduates become presidents. Imagine if every king’s heir had once lived in your capital for four years.”
“But it’s not important like that,” I said. “Growing up, I’d hear about the Empire moving in, or Forsni, or… lots of places. Crithnon’s just neutral.”
Mom sighed. “That’s exactly why it works. No one’s worried about their heir being murdered in the streets. They get the best medicine in the world. They meet future rulers from every corner of the globe. They build friendships. Alliances.” She paused. “And they do it somewhere that doesn’t threaten to annex them.”
I stared out at the city.
“Neutral doesn’t mean irrelevant,” she said quietly. “It means everyone trusts you just enough. It means banks and trade. It means academics who don’t have to look over their shoulders politically. Historically, their borders have been fairly open. Not just to other countries, but the other races. There’s an elven district near the academy, and others throughout the city.”
“But if the Keepers are missing…”
Mom nodded. “This city is balancing on a knife point.”
And one of the things that could tip the scales was curled up in the bed on the other side of the roof.
Mom put the lid back on the box with the rope ladder. “Enough politics. Let’s get back inside. I’d prefer not to be on the roof when Eldan gets back.”
I glanced out at the city again. The ocean was a dark mass to one side. That part was almost familiar, comforting in its own way. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hear the waves, but they were too far away. There was just the sound of a tavern a few streets over, chatter rising to the rooftops. I headed back and pulled the door shut behind me, staring at it.
“Leave it unlocked for now,” Mom said.
Good. Because I didn’t know how to lock it again.
Mom was already sitting in one of the chairs by the little table. A little charmed glass sphere glowing on a stand at the center, lighting up the room. I settled into the chair across from her.
Mom dug into her bag, pulling out the sheaf of papers that she’d been reading before and spreading them out across the table.
My stomach growled. I ignored it. Mom’s lips twitched. “Hopefully, Eldan brings back something good.”
I traced the edge of the table, but didn’t respond. We’d certainly given him enough money. I glanced at Syrin. Could he eat? Or was it better to let him sleep? People could go without food for a couple of days, but what about water?
Mom shifted another page, and I let out a breath. She was a nurse. She’d know what he needed. I could just worry about everything else.
Like the Light.
I shifted in the chair. “What Eldan said about only the Keepers being able to talk with the Light…” I looked up at Mom, trying not to panic. “I hear it.”
Mom sighed, then pushed to her feet, walked over to the bed, and placed a hand on Syrin’s arm.
“Can you hear it?” I asked softly.
She shook her head.
My heart skipped a beat. “So what’s happening to me? I’m not— I don’t want to be a Keeper, but I can hear it!”
The Light had said my eyes wouldn’t change. That meant not a Keeper. It had to.
Mom just looked thoughtful. “I don’t know Trina. I don’t think you’re a Keeper. From what Syrin told me about Serelyn, becoming a Keeper is quite a process. Maybe you’re a proto-Keeper, but Syrin implied there’s a formal bonding process.”
I stared down at the floor. “So, what am I?”
Mom settled back into her chair. “I think only Syrin can answer that.”
I grimaced.
“Or maybe the Light can.”
I jerked my head up, staring at her with slight horror.
She huffed a laugh. “Just ask it, Trina.”
“It’s not that easy to understand!” I protested.
She just gave me one of her you’re-being-ridiculous looks and went back to her pages. I stared hard at the table. Maybe I was being silly. I should ask the Light. That would be better. I just… wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.
Steeling myself, I stood and slipped over to the bed where Syrin was asleep. His glow had come back now that the Light had released him, flickering across his skin in patterns. Gingerly, I settled on the edge of the mattress, staring down at him.
“Trina,” Mom nudged.
Hesitantly, I rested my hand on his arm, and an awareness flickered in my mind. Warmth unfurled inside me, like a cat stretching out and settling down again.
Okay, Light, I thought. Obviously, I can hear you, and that’s not normal.
A sense of agreement filled me.
So… why can I hear you?
For a moment, nothing happened, like the Light was thinking. Then the warmth shifted.
Shadow flickered in my mind, and I almost flinched back, but… this was different. Not the infection clawing back; I could still feel that deep in my chest. This was a memory of it.
Then a sense of flow. The Light flowing: moving out of Syrin, through me, back again. A loop. A steady pull between us.
For hours.
Shadow surging, and the Light responding, flowing in and out. Holding steady while Syrin adjusted the pressure. Pulling back. Feeding forward. The circuit closing and opening. Over and over.
Until it wasn’t temporary anymore.
I sucked in a sharp breath. I jerked my hand away, and the feeling was gone. My mind was empty, just me.
Not temporary, but… I hadn’t decided anything! I stared down at the patterns drifting across Syrin’s skin. They paused, then formed a handprint.
I flinched. Seriously? The Light was asking like that? Carefully, I reached out again. The normal patterns resumed as warmth flooded in again.
The Light seemed… curious. Like it wasn’t quite sure what to make of this bond either. It prodded at me, warmth pressing against my mind, but I wasn’t sure what it wanted.
So only when I’m touching Syrin? I’m just like… an extension of his bond?
The Light pressed back a feeling that was almost the equivalent of a shrug. I pulled back again. No Light. Relief flooded in. This was different. It had to be. Syrin was always glowing. Hopefully, I never would.
“So?” Mom asked, and I almost jumped.
I whirled back to face her. “I’m not a Keeper. I’m… we’re not really sure.”
Mom raised an eyebrow. “We?”
“Doesn’t seem like this has ever happened to the Light before, either.”
Mom went still. “Can you do anything with it?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
Mom tapped her fingers on the table. “For right now, this stays between us.” She looked up at me. “The Light is complicated, but for some people it’s as much of a religion as a resource. Until Syrin wakes up… better to be careful.”
I settled back on the mattress. Syrin… I wasn’t so sure he’d be happy about this development when he woke up. I gently tousled his hair, but his breathing didn’t change. What if he hated that I’d bonded the Light this way? I needed to figure it out before then.
Another handprint had appeared in the pattern on his skin. I rolled my eyes, but gently took his hand. Warmth filled me, and I sent one question down the connection.
What can I do?
$ shoutout.swap --stacked --clean
by BooksByMandiMay ● Sci-Fi / LitRPG
Maura ran a game store. Now she's trapped in a deadly multiverse tutorial and assigned a class extinct for fifteen eras: Technomancer. Half magic, half machine, zero instructions. She has to figure out powers nobody remembers and keep a group of strangers alive long enough for any of it to matter.
by BooksByMandiMay ● Sci-Fi / LitRPG Lite
Samantha gets fired, framed for corporate espionage, and then something in her brain snaps. Suddenly she can see reality's source code. A voice says: LEVEL UP. She keeps notes in a journal titled "DEFINITELY NOT EVIL PLANS." She is, in fact, lying about that.
// two systems. two protagonists. same universe-breaking energy.