Chapter 42 | Silver Threads of Memory | Kael
The dreams are getting worse.
Leah wakes up screaming three nights in a row. Her silver veins glow bright in the dark, and her eyes stare at things that only exist in her memories. Each time, I hold her through it—wrapping my arms around her trembling body, speaking softly until she comes back to herself.
"She's showing me more," Leah says on the third night, her face white, her nightgown drenched in sweat. "The Queen. She's showing me how she sealed the bloodline. The ritual. What it cost her."
"What cost?"
"She gave up living forever." Leah's voice is quiet, amazed. "To protect her descendants, she made herself mortal. She died, Kael. The Progenitor Queen died. That's why everyone thinks her bloodline ended—because she ended it herself. On purpose."
I take this in without speaking. The history books always said the Queen disappeared, went to some higher place. No text ever mentioned her dying.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because she was scared." Leah looks at me, her honey-brown eyes looking ancient. "Scared that if she lived forever, her power would corrupt her. That she'd become the tyrant her enemies said she was. So she chose to die. To let her bloodline scatter, hide, become Nullbloods—so the power would only come back when someone worthy appeared."
"Someone like you."
"Someone who knows what it's like to have nothing." Leah takes my hand, her fingers cold but steady. "The Queen wanted her heir to know pain, Kael. To know what it feels like to be at the bottom. Because only then—only then can you really understand what power means."
I look at her—this girl who grew up in the slums, who wore a Suppressor, who was told she was worthless. And I finally get it. Why the seal picked her. Why the bloodline waited three thousand years for Leah Vane.
Because she's everything the Queen hoped for.
"What else did she show you?"
"The ritual." Leah's voice drops to a whisper. "How to fully unlock the bloodline. It doesn't just happen automatically, Kael. The seal doesn't just break—it has to be dissolved. Through a ritual. And I need—" she pauses, swallowing, "—I need your help."
"Anything."
"The ritual needs a blood exchange. Not a Bloodbond—something deeper. A merging of bloodlines. Yours and mine." She looks at me, uncertain. "It will change you. Forever. You'll carry part of my bloodline, just as I'll carry part of yours."
"And if I say no?"
"Then the seal stays partly closed. I'll never reach my full potential. The child—" her hand moves to her stomach, "—the child might not inherit the Progenitor's power."
I don't hesitate. "When do we start?"
"Kael—"
"I said yes, Leah. I meant it. Whatever the cost, whatever changes—I choose this. I choose you."
She looks at me for a long moment, searching for doubt. She finds none.
"Tomorrow night," she says. "Full moon. The ritual needs moonlight."
We spend the whole day preparing. Leah draws the ritual circle in the courtyard using silver powder and crushed bloodrose petals. I gather what we need—moonstone crystals, shadowmoss, a drop of my own heart's blood that I've kept in a crystal vial for three centuries.
Night falls. The moon rises, full and bright, washing the courtyard in silver.
We stand inside the circle, facing each other. Leah wears a simple white dress, her hair down, the silver veins on her skin glowing faintly. She's beautiful. Terrifying. Ancient and young, powerful and fragile, all at the same time.
"Are you ready?" she asks.
"Ready."
She starts the ritual. Words in Old Bloodtongue, sounds I haven't heard in thousands of years, flowing from her mouth as easily as breathing. The circle lights up, silver light rising from the ground to form a dome around us.
"Your hand," she says.
I hold out my hand. She takes it, her fingers warm and steady. Then she pulls out a small blade—not the one we use for training, but a ritual dagger, its edge shining in the moonlight.
"This will hurt," she warns.
"I know."
She cuts my palm. The pain is sharp and instant. Blood rises, dark red, pooling in my hand. Then she cuts her own palm, her blood mixing with mine in the moonlight.
The reaction happens immediately.
Silver light bursts from our joined hands, flooding the circle, blindingly bright. I feel it—the merging, the exchange, my ancient Noct bloodline weaving together with the Progenitor's power. It doesn't hurt. It's... transforming. Like being rewritten from the inside out.
The light fades. We stand there, breathing hard, our hands still joined. The ritual is done.
"How do you feel?" Leah asks.
"Different." I look at my hand. The cut has healed, but the skin now has a faint silver pattern—veins like hers, but lighter, thinner. A mark of our merging. "Stronger. And—" I pause, sensing something new inside me, "—I can feel the child."
Leah's eyes go wide. "What?"
"The blood exchange. It connected me to the child. I can feel—" I close my eyes, focusing, "—a second heartbeat. Faint, but it's there. Growing."
Leah's hand moves to her stomach. "You can feel the baby?"
"Yes." I open my eyes, meeting hers. "Our baby."
She cries then. Tears of happiness, of relief, of everything she's feeling. I pull her into my arms, holding her as the moonlight covers us both in silver.
The ritual is done. The seal is completely dissolved. And Leah Vane—heir of the Progenitor, no longer a Nullblood—stands in my arms, her power fully awake, her future full of possibility.
Whatever comes next, we'll face it together. As one bloodline. As one family.