I woke to find a rune branded into the ceiling above my bed.
It wasn't there the night before. Wasn't part of the standard dormitory design. And it wasn't glowing from any enchantment I recognized.
It shimmered gold.
Deep, sharp, ancient gold.
The same color as the mark on my chest.
I stared at it for a long moment, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. Afraid if I blinked, it would disappear—and afraid that if it didn't, I'd have to accept what it meant.
Someone had placed it there.
Someone who knew what I was.
And wanted me to remember it.
Kael wasn't in the hall when I stepped out.
Not that I expected him to be.
Since the Rite, we'd been given private chambers on opposite ends of the south wing—newly warded, strictly monitored, and far from the general student population.
Containment, not comfort.
No one wanted us wandering the school. Not bonded. Not linked. Not… together.
But the bond didn't care about doors or distance.
It pulsed as I walked.
Strongest when I passed under certain arches.
Stronger still when I crossed the eastern courtyard where Kael had once dueled three Bloodcraft heirs at once and won.
My Mark responded to that place like memory.
Like it had stood there before.
Like I had.
I reached the lower wing of the archive tower by midday.
Veylan had left a message folded under my breakfast tray: "Chamber 7. No guards. Bring the mark."
I didn't know what that last part meant until I saw the door.
Old. Sealed with bloodline ink.
It should've denied me.
I wasn't noble.
I didn't have a crest.
But the moment I stepped forward—
The lock glowed.
And the door opened.
Inside, the room was empty except for a basin.
Stone. Circular. Shallow.
Carved with the same rune I'd seen above my bed.
Veylan stood beside it, sleeves rolled up, eyes more tired than usual.
"You saw the symbol," he said.
"Yes."
"And the Mark reacted?"
I hesitated. "It always reacts."
He nodded.
Then gestured to the basin.
"Touch it."
I raised a brow. "That's it?"
"Let it read you."
I stepped closer.
The stone basin shimmered faintly.
Not enchanted—resonant.
It didn't want blood.
It wanted bond.
I placed my fingertips on the edge.
And the world shifted.
Not the room.
Me.
I gasped.
The basin flashed gold.
My skin flared hot.
The Mark on my chest pulsed violently—line after line lighting in quick succession until my knees buckled. I saw images that weren't mine.
A child standing in a circle of flames.
A symbol carved into a mountain.
A voice—my voice?—saying a name I'd never spoken before.
"We are the Seventh. The House without a crest. The House they burned."
The basin went still.
Veylan caught me before I hit the floor.
I clutched his sleeve, heart pounding.
"What was that?"
"A key," he said. "And a warning."
I looked up.
Veylan's face was pale.
"You activated the bloodline seal."
"I don't have a bloodline."
"You do now."
Later, I sat alone in the shadowed corner of the garden hall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, watching the storm clouds boil over the academy domes.
Kael found me without asking.
Of course he did.
He sat down next to me without comment.
We didn't look at each other.
But the bond curled between us like breath in the cold.
Finally, I said, "I saw it."
He didn't ask what.
"The real crest. The one beneath the forgery. The one that doesn't exist in the archives."
Kael exhaled slowly. "The Seventh House."
I turned to him.
"You knew?"
He didn't answer.
But the Mark pulsed in agreement.
"I was born of a bloodline they buried," I said softly. "No name. No symbol. Just power they couldn't control."
Kael looked at me, eyes shadowed.
"They didn't bury it," he said.
"They killed it."
We sat in silence for a while.
Bonded not by comfort, but by fear.
And maybe something else.
Something warmer.
Something neither of us wanted to name yet.
When we returned to the dorms that night, a summons was waiting.
From Kael's House.
Nightshade wanted him back.
"Alone," the note said.
"No guards. No bonded."
No me.
Kael read it in silence, then tore the seal clean and handed me the paper.
"You're not going," I said.
"They'll come here if I don't."
"They can try."
Kael stepped closer, voice quiet. "You don't understand how this works."
"I understand exactly how this works," I snapped. "You go alone, and they try to sever it. Again."
"They'll fail."
"Not if they use me."
That made him pause.
And that pause said everything.
I stepped back.
"Don't do it."
"I have to."
"No, you don't."
Kael met my eyes.
And for the first time, he didn't look like the untouchable heir.
He looked human.
And tired.
And afraid.
"Lira," he said softly. "If I don't go to them… they'll go through you."