Page 111 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

Finn instructs us to form a line with Ryker and me at the center.

My nerves are getting the best of me when five dark green-robed figures silently walk into the room. Their large hoods cover their faces. They move until they each stand before a throne, and as one, they all sit and remove their hoods, revealing beautiful, ancient faces.

Something in my soul stirs, like it recognizes these people as mine. The sharp lines of their faces, their cunning features, their green and hazel eyes.

Their pointed ears…

My head swivels to Finn, but his aren’t⁠—

I blink once, twice, and realize his ears are pointed. I had noticed before, but I forgot in the chaos of the past day. I shift my eyes to Brynna beside him. Hers are pointed as well.

The elder at the center of the room, the one who looks to be the oldest, speaks, breaking the reverence in the room. “Soraea, daughter of light,” he speaks in Elvisiah. “We welcome you. I am Lord Caelithen. I serve as the High Speaker of Memory and Spirit.”

He turns to his right, gesturing to the council members at his side. He points to the woman sitting in the first throne, the emerald. “This is Lady Naelira, Guardian and Healer of Elven domain.” He gestures to the man between them, the one seated on the sapphire throne whose face looks like the justice of law itself. “Lord Verion, Arbiter of Balance.”

He finishes the introductions with the two seated to his left. The ruby throne is Lord Theronai, the Warden of Flame and Will. He should be easy to remember. His dark skin is marred by burns and scars. The female seated between them on the onyx throne is Lady Serathiel, Keeper of Knowledge and Truth.

I bow my head before meeting their gaze.

“We have waited a long time for this day. Your birth was foretold over a millennium ago, and now, here you stand. The worlds are changing before us, and this war—” He shakes his head, studying me for a long moment, the weight of centuries pressing into his gaze. “Tell us where you stand in your training, Soraea. Not what you hope to be capable of. What you are capable of.”

“Morana’s powers have grown exponentially over the years. We do not understand where they come from. Her shadows bend to her will, the mists capturing the voices and souls of those she’s tortured. How strong is your magic? We need to know where we must pick up in your training,” Lady Serathiel clarifies.

The silence stretches. My throat tightens.

Before I can answer, Riven steps forward, dropping briefly to one knee before rising again. “She held the shadows at bay long enough for extraction. Shielded seven people. No guidance. No formal training.” He pauses a moment. “But her magic was burning out. She would not have lasted much longer.”

The words strike harder than any accusation. Heat crawls up my neck, shame curling tight in my chest.

I lower my gaze, fingers twisting in the silk of my gown. “I don’t know how to control it. Everything I’ve done has been instinct. Out of fear and…survival.”

Ryker, sensing my emotions, clears his throat.

The eyes of the council members swing to him, and he bows. “She has had no teachers,” he says, his voice calm, but edged with quiet authority. “Astor and Calia told us her lifeforce must be restored before true training could begin. And that our Bond must be completed.”

Lady Naelira stands, her hair shimmering like dawn as she steps down from her throne and, on silent feet, steps toward us. The room stills as she brushes her hands over us. Not touching us, but the air surrounding us. Her eyes grow big as her head swivels toward Lady Serathiel. “The Aethermark is blocked.”

“They must complete the trials during the awakening. The two are linked.” Lord Verion’s voice echoes through the chamber, calm, yet otherworldly. Unlike Lord Caelithen, whose voice holds centuries of authority.

Lord Verion’s sends a shiver down my spine.

Lady Naelira turns back to us. “Your trials, your awakening, and your training.” She says it like she’s making a mental note. “So many things, so little time.” She looks to Finn. “Lord Finn, please see to it that their training begins tomorrow at dawn. We must make haste.” She then turns to Carys. “You must take them to Caelus. He will know what to do with their awakening.” Then to Riven. “You will oversee their training.”

Riven nods before she returns to her throne.

Finn steps forward. “And what of their friends? We brought six others and Prince Anders’ sister.”

Lord Theronai, who has been silent this whole time, stirs. “Do they know of their lifeforce?” His voice is quiet, yet the room shakes from the power he has within.

Finn informs them they aren’t sure which council they belong to. Lord Theronai only nods.

“They too must go through their own awakening and training. Riven is to assign them instructors,” Lord Caelithen declares.

“What does that mean?” I ask, gripping my gown to not let them see my shaky hands. “Our lifeforce. I understand that it was given to power the Veil long ago by our ancestors, but what does it mean to have it restored?”

“You will be restored to what is truly yours—your birthright. For you, Soraea, daughter of the forest, are an Elven heir.” Lady Naelira’s gaze shifts to Ryker. “And your mate…the Fae heir. As for your friends, we will know in time. Humans live such short lives and carry no magic within them. But with your lifeforce restored, you will gain full access to your power—your family’s magic. Your life will extend for many millennia.”

Ryker goes preternaturally still beside me. I don’t know what makes me ask, especially since it seems rude, but the words fall out anyway. “And how old are you?”