What does he see? Are the nightmares of Darkness darker than anyone else's? Death? The death of his mother. Her last breaths as he used his own body as a human shield - and yet still failed. Does he look into Lithael’s eyes, look at his mother’s soul trapped inside one of Lithael’s glass necklaces, and feel his own soul being torn into pieces?
Does he see my death too?
The one thing to fight a grimm is something that’s finally dead.
Wait until your grief has passed, then – Seek the remnant beyond the border.
Speak to a man named Martin but believe the word of a bird.
Let your reflection go hazy in clear waters and see instead through a grey lens.
In Silvari glass is a blade that can pass, a soul that can kneel, and a world that can heal.
This is not a battle that can be won. Before this time can pass, the mortal soul from its beginnings can not last. There is no way a soul can rule and live.
Because I heard what the Origin Spring said to the tallest forest tree – the key will be in the last of me.
Way down deep in the pit of my stomach, I’m pretty sure my imagination only just skims the top of what Darkness dreams of.
Which all makes me seriously consider just staying where I am, on the floor, in agony. Don’t poke a sleeping… anything… right? Not when he’s sleeping like a baby. All snuggly and relaxed. If I were Seth, I’d be thinking about sneaking up and putting Killian’s thumb in his mouth.
I’m in too much pain to be Seth.
I could throw something at him if he starts having another dream – if I can get to my feet. Like the cushion on the couch next to me. Or his boot – boot to the head could be dangerous, though.
Besides, there’s something in his boot. A shadow.
Which means I’m losing my marbles, because small shadows without small creatures attached to them don’t exist.
Killian lets out another sigh, a long, contented, comfortable sigh – and it’s decided. I’m staying exactly where I am – watching a shadow – until the guy wakes up on his own.
Killian lets out a house-shuddering growl, and I snap my fingers in the air, an automatic response that helps guide my power into one specific purpose – to silence the air around me. I need to concentrate – I’ll sleep later – and in the morning I need to save Kitten’s life.
Then, in my cocoon of silence, I set to work. Yanking at the buckles again, I manage to get one open just enough to hunt around for the small blue book inside.
‘Seed Lore,’ the faded brown lettering reads. Under the image of a pine cone. A sequoia pine cone – like the one lonely sequoia tree that’s visible outside the window.
I flip open the book, brushing my fingertips over the gold lettering of the index. GlassSeeds are a myth – I’m sure of that. But what are the other options?
ShatterSeed. ThreadSeed. ShimmerSeed. The names aren’t even in alphabetical order. EbbSeed. AllureSeed.
I stop there, hesitating. I already tore the page out and threw it in the fire when we were camped in the Inya Forest… before I gave the book to Kitten. The page might be gone, but the words echo inside of me…
AllureSeed. Born of the beginning and of the end, of all things to come and where they began. Holder of the right and the wrong. The one to start and end the song. The harmony of true love is the only thing to satiate the power within.
I swallow hard, as if the words actually rolled over my vocals. I’ve not sung anything, not even hummed, since I was a child. Just the idea of it is painful.
And of course I would turn a moment of furious research about Kitten into one where I’m… what would she call it? Having a pity party.
I force the moment to step aside and let some real thinking in.
As unlikely as the idea is, I flip the book open to the page on OriginSeeds, right in the center. This was always my least favorite passage. It’s delicate and pretty to read. Most people believe it, but I never could accept that Silva started with one race – the Origins.
“OriginSeed. Born with every choice in the land and the ability to Seed another. But the soul must choose only one – and that one must accept being chosen. That is the power and the curse they shall bear. The power to create those who can destroy.
Ridiculous. Origins were supposedly the only Silvari, when they existed.
Unions between Seeded Silvari only produce Seeded children when the parents’ powers have some kind of tie, some type of connection that causes the powers to seek each other out as even vaguely familiar. All these Seedless Silvaris today are the products of two Sabers with vastly different seeds having children. A StrengthSeed and a ShimmerSeed will not have the compatibility to create any seed in their children. How did our race evolve to a point where there was incompatibility when every child was born from Origins, and when Origins themselves could have just handed over new seeds?
Not just any new seed, a seed of the receiver’s choosing.
Logic says that every child would have chosen a seed of Allure. From a young age, all children desperately want something they can't have, another piece of chocolate, or a toy, or to avoid a chore, and Allure would grant them the ability to order their parents to comply.
Was there an age limit – you were granted a seed when you became an adult? But then, Sabers have their seeds from birth and parents have to deal with ShimmerSeeds disappearing into lightwaves even as newborns. Plus, if adolescents were offered any seed their hearts desired, we’d have a kingdom
