Page 84 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)

The transport stone released them in a pulse of warmth and wind.

Maeve stumbled slightly as her boots hit soft ground, the forest spinning for half a second before steadying herself.

The air there was different, thin and alien.

Yendel straightened beside her, already composed, robes falling into place without a crease.

“We’re outside the final ward perimeter. The house lies beyond the trees.”

Branfil adjusted his sword and gave Maeve a quick glance. “You okay?”

“Still hate the feeling,” she muttered. “Like being popped through a keyhole.”

“Better than flying for three days.” Branfil countered.

“Debatable…”

Waiting just ahead, half-shrouded in mist, were three saddled horses. The smallest of them, a dappled mare with long lashes and suspiciously intelligent eyes, lifted her head and observed Maeve and she did not look thrilled.

“Ah,” Yendel said mildly. “I forgot you dislike horses.”

“I don’t dislike them,” Maeve said tightly, eyeing the mare like it might lunge. “I just don’t trust anything that has that many opinions and no ability to debate them.”

Branfil snorted and handed her the reins. “I’m sure she’s well trained.”

“You may laugh, but I’ve been thrown before,” Maeve retorted, rolling her eyes.

“You ride dragons now!” Bran said, hands outstretched in mock appeal.

She laughed. “Dragons warn before they throw you.”

Still, Maeve mounted up without further complaint, though the mare gave a subtle toss of her head, like she was testing her.

They rode for just under two hours through a veiled forest, the path narrowing and blurring the deeper they went.

The trees leaned close, their trunks furrowed with age, rune-marked in places that made Maeve’s skin prickle.

Sunlight filtered in strange, slanted patterns, shifting and always just behind them.

She leaned forwards slightly, murmuring to Branfil, “Are you getting a weird déjà vu feeling?”

“Like the forest is folding behind us?” he murmured back. “Yes.”

Even the Chain had gone quiet. Not inert, or dim. But alert… as if it was focused and coiled to strike. Then, beneath a low arch of a living root, the path ended, and the mountain opened up before them.

The House of the Magicers had no proper door or windows.

The structure rose like a spiral crown carved against the cliffside, part temple, part library, part living structure.

Shimmering sigils and runes floated lazily in the air above its towers, slow-moving and weightless, like glass leaves on invisible wind.

“Shit.” Maeve said, entirely awestruck.

“This place wasn’t built,” Yendel said, dismounting. “It was found.”

Maeve slid from the saddle, legs tense. “How long has it been here?”

Yendel smoothed his robes. “No one knows, long before Melrathen had monarchs or written word.”

They were greeted inside by silence and ink, the corridors were high-ceilinged, walls ribbed with living root and cold crystal and light came from no visible source. Runekeepers moved in slow patterns, robed in grey and white, many barefoot, their skin painted with soft lines of glowing ink.

They bowed slightly as Yendel passed, but few spoke. One figure emerged from deeper shadow, a tall, robed fae with dark, stone-coloured skin and eyes so milky they looked sculpted from cloud.

“High Runekeeper Vaelwyn,” Yendel said quietly. “We’re here to see you.”

Vaelwyn nodded once, their voice low and strangely melodic. “I know, the Chain arrived well before you all.”

Maeve tensed. “You felt it?”

“We heard it, echoes in the stone.” She replied gesturing to the wall .

Branfil moved subtly closer to Maeve’s side. She didn’t flinch, only looked to Vaelwyn with calm defiance. “And what exactly is it echoing?”

Vaelwyn smiled faintly. “That’s what we hope to learn.”

The High Runekeeper led them to a study chamber carved deep into the mountain’s heart.

It was circular, the walls etched in spiral glyphs softly lit in tones of amber and violet.

A smooth stone table hovered at the centre, ringed by slow-turning quartz discs.

A younger Runekeeper stood waiting, his robes less formal and the glowing ink on his arms still looked fresh.

A tome hovered in front of him, open and pages jostling with embedded spells.

“This is Callix,” Vaelwyn said. “Our specialist in relic convergence theory.”

Branfil raised a brow. “That’s a thing?”

Callix smiled, nervous but eager. “It is now.”

He tapped a rune, and the tome shifted, its pages displaying layered diagrams, looped patterns of the Chain, the royal crest of Melrathen and mirrored runes pulsing in time with the bracelet on her wrist. Then a projection flared into the air above the table, a three-dimensional rune graph, spiralling like a helix, each segment glowing with a different magical signature.

Callix stepped closer. “This is a convergence map. We use it to trace feedback between major artefacts and surrounding magical fields.”

Maeve stared. “That’s the Chain?”

Callix nodded.

“Part of it. It’s… vast. Most relics produce simple pulses, linear, sometimes radial.

But the Chain? Pfft, it’s self-referencing.

It folds intention through itself, then echoes it outward.

” He pointed to a flickering line connecting the Chain to a glowing crest at the chart’s base.

“This connection right here, that’s you.

The Chain’s current pattern includes your signature magic.

It’s not just connected, it’s syncing and it’s accelerating. ”

Maeve shifted nervously, and Yendel placed a hand on her arm.

“We believe the Chain didn’t just reappear randomly in your world,” Callix began. “It was called.”

“By who?” Maeve asked.

“By you,” Vaelwyn said softly. “Or more precisely, by your mate bond. ”

Maeve frowned.

“It found a way back to Melrathen,” Vaelwyn corrected. “The Chain sensed you nearby. Recognised your bond and you became a fixed point and through that, it was able to return to the Fae Lands.”

Callix nodded. “Your mate bond just gave it a path home.”

Maeve blinked. “So, I’m… what, a carrier?”

“No,” Vaelwyn said. “Well, to be begin with yes but now you are its conduit. We believe it views you as its… match.”

Yendel’s voice was steady, as if he already knew the outcome. “Then what is it doing to her?”

“It’s not doing,” Callix said. “It’s becoming. They’re feeding each other. It’s adapting to her magic and intention. We believe the Chain is evolving, not as a weapon. More as a companion.”

Maeve looked down at it, golden around her wrist, the light flickering across her forearm.

Her voice dropped to a murmur. “No that isn’t possible, Eiran told me that the Chain wasn’t just an artefact.

That it carried the vows of his ancestors.

A promise to protect the realm, that it helped shape magic and to keep it honest. I’m not any of that. ”

Vaelwyn’s eyes softened. “Yes. That is its first purpose, not conquest or domination, just guardianship.”

Yendel nodded. “And now that it’s back in Melrathen, the effects are visible. Magic has stabilised, healers are reporting faster intention responses. Runes hold better, even spell fields are beginning to self-correct.”

Branfil added, “The Keep’s wards have stopped flickering, and the elemental grounds have nearly doubled their quality yield.”

Maeve blinked. “Cira said something after I was injured…”

Callix tilted his head. “What did she say?”

Maeve hesitated. “That when she used the painstone, it flared brighter than she’d ever seen. She said I shouldn’t have survived my injuries, that the painstone was a final grasp. She told me the Chain must’ve been working with it, amplifying it.”

Callix’s expression sharpened. “That makes sense. The Chain recognises other magic, especially those tied to sacrifice. It could have fused with the painstone’s intention. ”

Vaelwyn nodded. “The Chain has never been passive. It responds to need and truth and now it’s learning from you.”

Maeve’s stomach twisted. “And if I fail it?”

“It will protect the realm,” Vaelwyn said. “Even from you.”

That landed like stone in water, but Callix said gently, “It doesn’t think you’ll fail, or it wouldn’t have stayed with you once it returned. It would have allowed you to feel as if you could return it to the vault.”

Maeve’s voice was quiet. “So, what happens next?”

Vaelwyn’s gaze turned distant. “I believe it will keep evolving, as you keep growing and the Chain will meet you wherever your intention leads.”

“Together,” Callix added, “you could become something the realm hasn’t seen in millennia, maybe ever.”

Maeve exhaled slowly, fingers brushing the metal at her wrist. “If I lose control?”

“You won’t.” Vaelwyn said. “The Chain doesn’t just carry power. It carries memory, and now… it carries you.”