Bound by Blood

Malise

The ride from Perrith to my home in Valen was short, the fading light casting long shadows as we crossed the countryside. Though Malreth had burned down our family estate years ago, we still had the cottage—small and worn but intact. My father had used it as his office, a place where he, my mother, and my aunts and uncles gathered to plan their resistance. The walls had absorbed countless whispered conversations, desperate strategies, and last hopes. Now, it was all we had left of that time—of the world before everything changed.

The cottage stood tucked beneath a canopy of ancient oak trees, their gnarled branches swaying softly in the evening breeze. Wildflowers lined the stone path leading to the front door, their bright colors oddly unfitting for the weight I carried. The scent of damp earth mixed with the lingering warmth of the setting sun as we rode up to the stable tucked behind the house.

As soon as we dismounted, Asher brushed stray hay from his hands. "I'll bring in more hay and water," he said, leading his horse inside. "If Amara and the others are arriving soon, they'll need it."

"You sure?" Aveline asked, slipping down from her horse beside me. "I can send a message to Amara—tell her to have Kade and Elara stable in town. If we keep all the horses here, it's going to look suspicious."

She had a point. Too many eyes were on us already.

"Good idea," I said, patting my horse's flank before leading her into the stable.

Aveline nodded, already pulling out her echo charm, the smooth stone warming faintly in her palm as she murmured the message.

Inside, the cottage was exactly as I remembered—small but sturdy, filled with memories. The wooden beams overhead creaked with familiarity as I entered. Dust motes swirled in the dim light, the scent of dried herbs still clinging to the air. The front room was simple: a cold hearth, a worn dining table, shelves lined with books and scrolls, most of them collected during our search for the others.

As Aveline stoked the fire, I set the sacks of food on the table, the weight in my chest settling slightly. At least we had a place to regroup. That was something.

By the time dinner was simmering—a stew made from dried meats and fresh vegetables—we had spread maps and old books across the table. The worn leather bindings creaked as I flipped them open, their yellowed pages filled with notes scrawled by hands long gone. Somewhere in this mess, there had to be a clue.

Aveline settled beside me, flipping open one of the older tomes. "I can't believe you kept all of this," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Someone had to," I muttered. "Besides, you know me—never throw away anything that might be useful."

She smirked. "I always thought you were just a hoarder."

I rolled my eyes. "You love that I keep everything."

"Debatable," she said, scanning the faded text. After a few minutes, she let out an exaggerated sigh. "You'd think with all these records, someone would've had the sense to write 'By the way, the all-powerful relic is hidden right here.'"

"If only they'd been that considerate," I muttered.

We worked in silence for a while, occasionally tossing theories back and forth. Most of what we found was frustratingly vague—references to a "source of unyielding power," descriptions of objects tied to the family crest. Nothing concrete.

"I swear, half these entries are just riddles," Aveline grumbled. "Why couldn't your ancestors write like normal people?"

"Because where's the fun in that?" I quipped, flipping through a fragile journal.

The door creaked open, and Asher stepped inside, brushing hay from his hands. "Stables are set. Horses will be fine for the night." He glanced around. "Which room's mine?"

I gestured toward the narrow hallway. "Large room at the back. You're sharing with Kade & Cai."

Asher smirked. "Great. I love it, like when we were kids."

Aveline snickered. "I'm sure you will all have stories to share, well Cai will for sure."

"Yea, I bet we will" he shot back, flashing her a grin as he pulled out a chair and sat beside me. He dragged one of the maps closer, eyes narrowing as he traced the rivers and lakes. "You know," he said slowly, "there's water all over the kingdom, but Azure has the most concentrated bodies of water. Lakes, waterfalls... even underground springs."

I leaned in, studying the map. "If only we knew who had the relic last. Knowing how they thought—where they might hide it—would give us a lead."

Asher ran a hand through his hair, his expression thoughtful. "I don't remember my parents ever mentioning the relic directly, but I'll ask Mina. Maybe something will come to her."

He took my mother's echo charm from around his neck, the faint pulse of magic running through it as he sent a brief message. I had given it to him as soon as we got back here, knowing he needed a way to stay in communication after his had been stolen years ago. It was a bit girly for his taste, but for now, it worked.

We kept searching as we waited for her response, flipping through page after page of old records. My eyes burned from exhaustion by the time the echo charm in Asher's palm hummed faintly with a reply.

He held it up, listening carefully before his expression shifted. "Mina says the only thing she remembers is our mother talking about her great-grandmother—a Scaleweaver. She used her gift to alter dimensions, shrinking and enlarging objects. It explains why the relic looked smaller in your vision," he said, glancing at me.

I blinked. "Your mother was a Scaleweaver too."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I remember. She used to enlarge our birthday cakes—best gift ever when you're a kid."

I huffed a soft laugh. "Somehow, I feel like she was underutilizing her power."

"Nah," he said, grinning. "A ten-tiered cake when you're five? That's real power."

The humor faded quickly, but the revelation gave us something new to work with. If the relic had been altered by a Scaleweaver, that meant whoever hid it had the power to place it somewhere no one would think to look—or somewhere only someone with their bloodline could reveal.

That, at least, was progress.

We turned back to the books, the search pressing on.