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Xelith curses under his breath, crossing the space in two strides. He grips my shoulders, forced calm washing over his features even as tension lines his jaw. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” He runs a quick glance over me, as if checking for bruises.

I exhale shakily. “No, but… gods, Xelith, I commanded him. He had no choice.”

His grip tightens, mouth grim. “Listen to me. He won’t remember, yes?” He shakes me a little, gaze piercing. “You told him to forget?”

My voice quivers. “I think so. I said something… it came out like an order. He just obeyed.”

A surge of relief passes across his face. “Good. Then maybe he’ll wander about dazed, not sure what happened.” He breathes out, still holding me steady. “But we must move carefully. If he recovers any memory, the council will be unstoppable.”

My stomach flips. “I don’t understand. How can I enthrall someone? That’s not… human. That’s—” I catch myself, recalling the rumors of sirens, the horrifying notion that I might share their blood.

Xelith’s expression darkens, as though reading my thoughts. “No. It’s not human. And it’s not typical sorcery either.” He steps back, hands sliding from my shoulders. I feel abruptly cold without his touch. “We need answers. Now.”

My throat constricts. “You suspect sirenblood, don’t you?”

He hesitates, glancing at the door. “This isn’t the place to discuss it. Too many ears.” He grabs my wrist—not painfully, but insistently. “Come.”

I follow numbly, heart still hammering. We slip into the corridor.

No sign of Nyrus or the guards. My illusions or enthrallment must have scattered them.

Xelith leads me down a back passage I haven’t traversed before, quickening his pace with each step.

Tapestries blur at the corners of my vision, mana-lamps buzzing overhead.

My limbs tremble from the aftermath of that strange power. Is it truly sirenblood?

At last, we reach a heavy door carved with swirling runes reminiscent of House Vaeranthe’s crest. Xelith murmurs a spell, palm pressed to the latch.

The wards hiss, unlocking. Beyond lies a small chamber lined with shelves stuffed with tomes, crystals, and curious relics.

A single table stands in the center, lit by a softly glowing orb suspended overhead.

Xelith closes the door behind us, wards flaring in place again. Silence envelops us, broken only by my ragged breathing. I scan the shelves—some hold ancient texts scrawled in a script I can’t read, others store items that glisten with dormant magic.

He paces toward one shelf, rummaging through the volumes. I remain near the door, arms wrapped around myself in a futile attempt to steady. My mind spins. I enthralled an official. If the council finds out, I’m done for. If I truly am sirenborn…

At last, Xelith extracts a weathered tome bound in black leather, inscribed with archaic symbols.

He flips through the pages, scanning them with intense focus.

“My father collected lore on extinct species. The council once used this volume to track potential threats.” He finds a section and places the book on the table. “Come.”

I approach warily, staring at the faded ink. The text is in a flowing, archaic dialect, dotted with sketches. I see haunting silhouettes—a woman with elongated vocal cords, an aura swirling around her throat. My blood runs cold.

“This is the sirenblood entry,” Xelith says grimly, tapping the page. The description references mind enthrallment, an enchanting voice that can bend wills, illusions that lure unsuspecting victims. The footnotes mention a centuries-old campaign to eradicate them.

“That campaign was led by the upper council,” Xelith continues, voice subdued. “They believed sirens threatened Dark Elf dominion, that their enthralling powers could unravel entire kingdoms.”

My heart pounds so hard it hurts. “You’re saying… that’s me?”

He meets my gaze, eyes haunted. “The signs point to it. You enthralled Nyrus with your voice, yes? Humans don’t do that.

” A bitter laugh escapes him. “Neither do normal sorcerers. I tried to rationalize your illusions, your effect on guards, but it all aligns with the sirenborn’s rumored abilities.

They can manipulate minds, seduce or command with a single phrase. ”

My head swims. “But… I’m human. I’ve always been told we have no real magic. A few hedge witches practice minor spells, but nothing like enthrallment.”

He pages through the tome, pointing to a line. “Sirens can breed with humans. The offspring appear human outwardly, but the siren lineage can resurface generations later. Seems you’re an unlucky descendant.”

Unlucky indeed. My mouth goes dry, recalling every instance I glimpsed illusions or felt that hot swirl in my chest. All sirens were slaughtered… except maybe not entirely.

“Gods,” I murmur. “So if the council finds out, they won’t just kill me. They’ll destroy anyone who might carry the blood. They’ll ravage entire lines of humans to be sure.” Rage and fear coil in my belly.

Xelith nods solemnly, shutting the tome. “Precisely. They see sirenblood as a plague.”

I sink into a nearby chair, legs trembling. “This can’t be real. My entire life, I fought with blades, cunning, rebellion. Never magic.”

He moves closer, gentling his voice. “Magic can lie dormant. Your rebellion, the pressure of captivity, might have awakened it.” He carefully lays a hand on mine, as though bracing me.

A jolt passes through me at the contact—a swirl of confusion and that same magnetic tension that’s always simmered between us.

I glance up, meeting his silver gaze. The moment stretches. “What do I do?” My voice breaks, betraying my swirling terror.

He exhales. “First, we keep this secret. Nyrus won’t remember the enthrallment if your command was strong enough. But be cautious—any slip could reveal you. The illusions, the enthrallment… bury them, unless your life depends on it.”

A laugh escapes me, tinged with bitterness. “My life already depends on it.”

His mouth tightens. “Then hide it. I’ll do everything possible to quell suspicions. But if the council gets wind that you’re sirenborn…” His grip tightens on my hand. “They’ll bypass me and tear you apart in some sorcerous chamber to see how your power works.”

A wave of nausea sweeps over me. My eyes burn with unshed tears. I never asked for this. I never wanted to be anything but free. Yet here I am, a living target for the darkest nightmares of the Dark Elf elite.

Xelith’s posture shifts, frustration and an undercurrent of protectiveness radiating from him. “We’ll figure this out. For now, I need you to remain calm. Do not enthrall anyone else. If you feel the surge building, bite your tongue, run away, anything.”

I nod mutely, though part of me recoils at the thought of burying a power that might ensure my survival. If used carefully, enthrallment could protect me from guards, from Nyrus. Yet the risk…

He squeezes my hand, then seems to realize the intimacy of the gesture. Slowly, he releases me, stepping back a fraction. The rush of his warmth recedes, leaving me oddly bereft.

“This changes everything, Lysandra,” he says, voice low. “You aren’t just a rebel. You’re a direct threat to my people’s ancient prejudices. If word leaks, the farmland purge you fear would be the least of our problems. They’d burn half of Protheka to unearth any trace of sirenblood.”

A stifled sob rises in my throat, but I swallow it. “I won’t let them slaughter more innocents. Especially not because of me. The rebels… they’re already close to annihilation.”

His silver gaze darkens. “Which is why we must be smarter. We have less than a day to present a plan to the council, something that appeases them enough to delay a purge. You must remain outwardly submissive. Let them believe I’m taming you.”

My stomach churns at the idea. “Submit, while secretly harboring a power that could enthrall them all. What a twisted game.”

He gives a humorless smile. “You’re not the only one who hates it.”

Silence blankets us again. My mind reels—sirens, illusions, enthrallment.

I was always strong-willed, leading rebellions with steel and cunning.

But this? I could unravel minds with a whispered command.

Dread wrestles with a flicker of something darker— excitement.

Because if harnessed, this power is unstoppable.

I look down at my hands, remembering the raw heat that rushed through me. “If I do learn to control it… do you realize what that might mean?”

He studies me, posture tense. “Yes. You’d be unstoppable if no one discovered the truth. But the discovery alone would incite war.” He hesitates, eyes flicking to the old tome. “Even I can’t fully protect you if the truth spreads.”

The weight of his words presses on my chest. The council meeting looms, farmland hangs in the balance, and now this revelation of sirenblood threatens to upend everything. I force myself to meet his gaze.

“You said we have a day to finalize a plan. Then you present it to the council,” I murmur. “I’ll share what I can about the rebels… enough to steer them away from the most vulnerable groups. That might stave off a large purge, buy us time.”

He nods. “And in return, I keep the council’s attention off your potential magic. I’ll spin a tale of your slow compliance, how I’ve nearly broken your will, so they see no reason to dig deeper.”

My lips twist in a bitter smile. “How charming. I’ll play the docile captive while I hide a power that could enthrall them all.”

“You won’t enthrall them all,” he warns, a flash of urgency in his tone. “Promise me, Lysandra. This power is too risky to flaunt. If you enthrall the wrong official, we’ll be undone.”

I swallow. The thought of enthralling the entire council as vengeance crosses my mind, but it’s fleeting. The risk is astronomical. “I promise I won’t use it… unless absolutely necessary.”

He exhales, relief mingling with caution. “That’s all I can ask.”