HAPTER ONE
“Liminal spaces have always had an important place in mythology, especially that of the Celts. They believed that such places, dusk and dawn, the seashore, anywhere that was between one thing and another, made the barrier between the mortal world and the Otherworld thinner,” said the smooth voice of Marion Blakesleigh-Archwood, professor of portal and sigil magic. Seren listened intently, not so much for the knowledge, as she was quite familiar with the subject already, but because she enjoyed the sound of his voice. It was rich and elegant without being snobbish, much like the man himself. Even with the sea wind whipping his brown hair out of its usual neat ponytail and into a tangle of wild curls, he was confident and calm.
“Although you will not find yourself able to enter the Otherworld without disciplined spellwork in these days, attuning your mind to the energy of such locales can be a benefit to casting planar magic, and can also make many kinds of divination clearer and accurate. Are there any questions before we begin?” he asked, his eyes passing over the whole class. Did they settle on her a moment longer than necessary, or was that just her imagination?
Nikki elbowed Seren in the side. “Ask him,” she hissed. Her best friend was her chief enabler in her hopeless infatuation with the professor. She’d been intrigued by him almost immediately upon enrolling in the graduate program at Ravencroft College, and after two years, her admiration had only grown.
Not only was he a skilled wizard with a depth of knowledge that she envied, but he was a keenly intelligent man with a dry sense of humor and an underlying air of melancholy. He inspired her curiosity almost as much as her ardor. Today, she’d been saving up a really good question, in hopes of gaining his attention.
“Professor, if anything between one state and another can be considered a liminal state, doesn’t that mean it’s a primarily mental construction? Could I just convince myself that my doorway or under my bed was a liminal space?” The Professor’s eyes focused on her, intense, but crinkling at the corners in amusement. She wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad sign.
“You could, in theory. But to actually make such a ‘short-cut’ work in practice would require formidable concentration and will, in which case, you would hardly have need of my instruction,” he said with an arch of his eyebrow. “Now, if there are no further questions, find a comfortable stance. The tidal zone, marking the boundary between the land and the sea, is a powerful intersection of energies. The first thing we will do is attune our breaths to the rise and fall of the waves.”
The lesson continued until they were all working on their own spells while standing in ankle-deep water. The professor strode from student to student, checking their progress and offering advice. Seren took a deep breath, tearing her eyes away from his lean form to concentrate on her spell, a divination.
This had nothing to do with her stated course of study in runic enchantment, but was a personal mystery she’d been trying to solve for many years. Shortly after her magic surfaced at the age of ten, she’d discovered that certain kinds of fortune-telling, particularly those related to romance, did not seem to work for her.
According to her research, this was more than a little unusual, and so she’d devoted much of her free time trying to get to the bottom of it. Perhaps a thinning of the barrier between this world and the other would enable her to get around whatever power seemed to get in the way of her divinations.
Now, holding a silver dish of water in her hands, she recited the spell. The bowl glowed with ethereal light, and then, an image formed on the surface of the water: waves, dramatic tubes of cerulean that crashed on an unknown shore, spraying foam in a relentless rhythm. Seren sighed. It was the same thing as always.
“And what are you working on, Miss Blythe?” The professor’s voice sounded from right behind her head, nearly causing her to fall over. “I apologize,” he said, grabbing her arm to steady her, “I had no intention of startling you.” Her heart beat faster at even this innocent touch, and she scolded herself internally.
“It’s nothing important,” she said, her cheeks heating. She didn’t want him to know she’d been doing a love fortune; most people found the idea juvenile, and it was too personal and complicated to explain. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of screaming. He turned and ran toward the sound, and Seren followed automatically, partly curious and partly from some strange protective instinct. Most of the other students, wide-eyed with terror, were running in the opposite direction.
It only took a moment to see the source of their fear. A creature of darkness, black ooze and oily smoke, roiled out of the sand, conjured through a student’s portal. Though it had no eyes, and very little else that could be considered normal anatomical features, it appeared to be scanning the area, looking for something. They ran up, the professor pulling one last student behind him, and the creature noticed.
Seren could feel the malevolent aura of its sudden attention. It charged, much faster than she would’ve thought possible, and the professor cast a spell. A shield shimmered into place over the students, leaving him undefended outside of it. A desperate impulse arose within her, and Seren raced forward.
********************
Marion watched the students begin to cast their spells, an unnameable restlessness causing him to shift from foot to foot on the damp sand. His eyes strayed to one corner of the beach, and he sighed internally. Not entirely unnamable perhaps, but uncomfortable and somewhat unbelievable.
There was something about Seren Blythe that drew him. She was, at first glance, perfectly ordinary, with dark brown hair and eyes the color of the heavy wooden furniture that seemed to be part and parcel of the Cambridge University experience, especially at Ravencroft.
Of course, she was clever; one did not get into a graduate program here without being intelligent, but there was something else that intrigued him, an occasional half-familiar quirk of her expression, the passionate heart belief by her rare displays of temper, and her stubborn tenacity, often evidenced by her dogged pursuit of his affections.
She fascinated him, as much as he tried to ignore it, and not just because no one had bothered to pay him any sort of romantic attention in many, many years. Setting aside the obvious inappropriateness of a professor being involved with one of the students, the simple fact that she was mortal made any notion of courting her ridiculous.
It would be unfair to her, and more than that, he knew that he would love her, if he gave himself even a bit of leeway, and the knowledge that he would lose her in less than a century made him recoil. It was a parting he knew he would be unable to bear again. Better for him to keep his distance and save them both the heartache.
He was still her teacher, however, and after putting it off as long as he could, he went to check on her progress. The familiar rushing of the tide against his legs gave him a sense of surety and balance he didn't always have in her presence, and so he did not hesitate to grab her to keep her from falling.
She blushed at his touch, and he found the sight utterly charming, but he hardly had a moment to appreciate it. The sound of screaming made his head jerk up, and he ran forward, the water pulling at his ankles. He didn't recognize the thing that had slithered out of the portal, but he knew that it was wrong, filled with malignant otherworldly energy. But his first duty was to his students, and so he cast the strongest shield he could manage on short notice, not even considering his own safety.
He turned back to the monster just in time to see Seren move in front of him, and he reached out, too late to stop her. The creature, attracted by the motion, rushed forward and then leaped into her, crashing through her chest and seeping into her skin like ink onto paper. Several people screamed as it emerged from her back and dissolved into ash.
The creature was gone, but she was falling into the water. Time dilated to a standstill, but once again he was too slow. He sloshed forward and fell to his knees, lifting her head out of the waves and pressing his hand to her sternum while he used a simple diagnostic spell.
“She's alive,” he said, more to reassure himself than anything else, but he heard the collective gasp of the class behind him, helpfully reminding him of their presence. He stood up, lifting Seren in his arms. The lightness of her body alarmed him. He took a deep breath, willing his brain to keep working past the fear and self-recrimination.
“I'm taking her back to school. The Healers there have the best chance of helping her. Class is dismissed, obviously. If you're nervous to go back on your own, wait here under personal wards, and I'll send someone for you.”
Some of the students nodded; many looked dazed. Magic was dangerous, they all knew that, and it wasn't as if they were children, but it had been a long time since there had been an incident like this at Ravencroft. There would be inquiries, he was sure, but he couldn't allow himself to worry about it. He walked onto the beach and cast his own teleport, inscribing the circle right onto the air; a reckless waste of power, but at the moment, worth it.
The portal opened right into the lobby of student clinic, and the woman at the front desk, a trainee, nearly fell over in surprise. “Professor?! What happened?” she asked, though she was well-trained enough not to let her shock keep her from guiding him to one of the small rooms off of the lobby.
“One of the students summoned something, or it broke through their wards. It's not a creature I'm familiar with, but it attacked Miss Blythe and she collapsed. Her pulse is weak and thready.”
He laid Seren on the exam table and thought she looked terribly small and vulnerable. He wanted to protect her, though a small part of him also wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, to demand why she had stepped in between him and whatever that thing had been.
The Healer-in-Training nodded and cast her own diagnostic spell, much more complex than what he had done. Whatever she discovered made her face pale. “I’ll get the Chief Healer right away.”
Less than ten minutes later, Marion heard the news he had most dreaded. “I'm sorry to say there's not much we can do. Whatever attacked her has poisoned her with its essence, not physically, but spiritually. Every moment, foul magic away at the core of her being, and not even the most talented Healers can do much about injuries to the soul. I'm afraid you'll have to contact her family,” the wizened old man said in a grave voice.
Marion passed his hand over his face, trying his best to keep his emotions in check. “How long?” he asked. His voice sounded strange, as if he'd been screaming for hours.
The Chief Healer laid a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. “I'd be surprised if she lasts the night. She's not in any pain.” He paused, his expression hesitant. “Perhaps she’d be more comfortable in her room?”
Marion blinked. That sounded like a terrible idea, but then, he supposed the healers didn't want a dying girl in their clinic either. They could take her to a normal hospital, but there was hardly a point. If her soul was damaged, no amount of medical intervention would have any effect.
Unless… An idea sprang into his mind. An insane idea, but if it worked, it would be worth it. To save her life, anything was worth it. “Yes, I'll take her and contact the Dean,” he said, scooping her back into his arms. Was it his imagination that she felt even lighter?
The healer gave him a speculative and worried glance. Marion supposed the expression on his face might be slightly lunatic. “Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own, Professor?”
“I'm fine,” he said, casting another teleport. “Everything is going to be fine.”
***************
“The theory is sound,” Dean Winters said, pursing her lips, “But it’s a drastic solution. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Can you think of any other way to save her life?” he said, more sharply than he intended, as he looked down at the girl now lying in his bed. There was a part of his mind insistently reminding him of the inappropriateness of such a thing, but then, considering what he was discussing with the dean, having a student in his bed was hardly worth worrying about.
“No,” the Dean admitted. “Certainly not on such short notice. But if you get this wrong, you could die with her. Even if everything goes right…” she looked up at him over the top of her glasses, her gaze piercing. “A soul bond is irreversible. There's some evidence to suggest that it persists through multiple lifetimes.”
“I know,” he said, swallowing hard. “She ran in front of me, and that's why the creature got her. I can't just let her die. Besides,” he added with a bitter smile, “it’s not as if I had anything better to do.”
The Dean narrowed her eyes. “She isn't just a student to you, is she, Marion?”
“Not anymore,” he said. “I know what you're asking and the answer is yes and no. I admit I found her intriguing, but I never would have done anything about it…” he trailed off, leaving the obvious unsaid. “Will you brew the potion?”
The Dean sighed as if she suddenly felt every one of her years. “I will, if you will take the responsibility of calling her parents.” He drew in a deep breath and nodded. It was, he supposed, the least he could do.
A few minutes later, he was sitting at his desk, anxiously twirling the coil of the phone cord in his fingers, one eye fixed on the shimmering stasis field over his bed and the young woman inside it. He hoped that would slow the progress of the poison, but it was only a faint hope. Finally, on the fifth ring, the phone was answered with a perplexed “Hello?”
“Is this Mr. Blythe?” he asked. The Blythes were an old family of magic users. Though they were famously on good terms with the Aos Si, they were mostly known for mediocrity. Marion didn’t think Gordon Blythe or his wife were even practicing wizards, but every few centuries there was a Blythe who was some sort of genius, as if their magic skipped several generations. One of the enduring mysteries of the magical world that no one bothered to investigate. Marion supposed it was a sort of luck that he happened to meet Seren at all; she might have had no magic to speak of and become an accountant. At the moment, he couldn’t say whether the luck was good or bad.
“This is Gordon Blythe. Who’s calling, please?” Unfailingly polite, of course, as one might expect from one of the few surviving members of the British country gentry.
“My name is Marion Blakesleigh-Archwood. I’m calling from Cambridge about your daughter, Seren.” Despite his effort to remain professional, he could hear his voice shaking. Time was of the essence.
“Has something happened?” Seren’s father asked immediately. Gordon Blythe was either perceptive or paranoid. Marion took another deep, steadying breath.
“There’s been an… accident during class.” Was that too vague? What would he tell another magic-user? “Another student summoned something that attacked Seren. I’m afraid she isn’t doing well at the moment.” That was an understatement, but Marion felt it was best to start gently.
“Can I speak to her? Should we come there?”
“She’s unconscious, currently. That’s why I called.” He gathered up his courage and continued. “Your daughter is in real danger. Without intervention, the Healers say she will not survive the night, but the only way to save her is… drastic. I need your consent.”
Now it was Gordon Blythe’s turn to take a deep breath. “Of course, if it’s the only way to save her life… but what exactly do you propose to do?”
“Seren has sustained damage to her soul that cannot be repaired and that worsens with time. The only way any of us can think to save her is to create a soul bond between her and another person who has ingested a preventative potion against the same type of damage. In theory, this will restore her connection to the celestial realm and prevent further erosion.”
There was a moment of silence before Mr. Blythe spoke again, the strain in his voice belying his distress. “I've heard of soul bounds. Who did you find willing to take such a drastic step?”
“Myself. I would not ask anyone else to take such a risk. There is a chance that the ritual will only kill us both. It has never been done before in such a circumstance,” Marion said as the dread of the question he knew was coming approached like cumulonimbus clouds towering on the horizon.
“You?” Mr. Blythe said, his tone suddenly sharp. “What exactly is your relationship with my daughter?”
“I’m a Professor here. The incident happened in my class, so I feel somewhat responsible.” Perhaps that would be enough of an explanation…
“You expect me to believe that you would bind yourself to someone for eternity just because you happened to be in the vicinity?” Marion understood her father being suspicious, really, he did, but he was not in the best place, emotionally, and he felt something in him snap.
“I am not in any sort of relationship with your daughter or anyone else, for that matter, but Seren is a brilliant and brave woman who is dying as we speak because she chose to recklessly run in between me and some sort of monster. I’m not too full of myself to admit that I would not have been prepared, and so I would have died because no one would have known what to do for me. If eternity is what I have to give in order to repay that debt, then I consider it my privilege, but if you know of a better candidate, by all means, let me know.”
There was another long moment of silence in which he could hear his own panting breaths echoing in the receiver. Perhaps he’d been too harsh, but he glanced at Seren’s still form again and decided that if the conversation hadn’t ended in five more minutes he would do the ritual anyway. Finally, Mr. Blythe spoke again. “Let me ask you which may seem at the moment to be a random question. Does the phrase ‘son of the wave’ mean anything personal to you?”
Marion sucked in a sharp breath. “I take it that it does?” Gordon continued. “For reasons which you’ll soon understand, we had Seren examined by a powerful Seer shortly after her birth. We were told not to reveal her secret until the son of the waves asked it of us. If you tell me what it means, you have my consent.”
He had kept the secret for so long, determined not be dragged back into the world he had left behind, but now, with Seren’s life on the line, Marion knew he could no longer keep silent. He let out a long, slow breath. “I’m not human,” he said finally. “My true name is Meirion, and I’ve been living in the mortal world for over a hundred years. With your family history, I’m sure you can put two and two together.”
“So, you aren’t dead after all,” Gordon said, but there was satisfaction in his tone rather than anger. “I told you I would give my consent, and I do, but before you do anything, you need to speak to Seren’s biological parents. I think you may know them…”
***************************
It had been years, maybe more than a century since he had felt so shaken. After he ended his call with Gordon Blythe, the former Prince of the Court of Waves went back to the bed and stared down at the occupant for a moment. He certainly never imagined that he wasn’t the only one hiding their true nature, although in Seren’s case, she was unaware. With trembling hands, he picked up the pendant that hung from her neck, a large piece of lapis carved into an exquisitely detailed full moon. At any other time, he would've admired the craftsmanship, but he barely noticed as he pressed down on the stone with his thumb. Just as Seren’s father had promised, the stone lit up, reacting to his presence; only his, as the Seer had insisted. Meirion had never liked the idea of fate, but here was the proof. The magic of the stone disassembled the impossibly complex glamour that had concealed Seren’s identity her entire life. When it was done, he had to stifle a gasp.
He had known what to expect, but seeing it was something else. Her hair had turned black, blacker than black; a shifting halo of shadow pooled on his pillow, and the delicate points of her ears now poked through the dark mass of curls. He suspected that when she opened her eyes, they would be mirrors of the night time sky. Now he knew why she had seemed so familiar at times. Of course, he had known her father since childhood, but if anything, her mother had been more important to his life. If it had not been for Rowan Ravencroft falling in love with a Prince of the Aos Si, Marion would not have had to leave Oxford so precipitously all those years ago, but he had never regretted aiding her.
Now, he would have to ask for her approval, and that of her powerful husband, potentially exposing not only himself but Seren’s identity, to all three Courts. And, painful and frightening as it was, there was no time to waste. He took out a piece of blue chalk and drew out a message spell on the floor. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he waited for a response.
It felt like an eternity passed before the circle flashed white, and the hazy form of a familiar face came into view. “Prince Meirion,” Lord Aidan said, his expression serene. Meirion couldn’t help but wince at the title. “It’s been many years since I’ve heard from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“It’s about your daughter, Seren,” he said, and the Lord of the Heavens sat up straighter, his gaze sharpening. “We haven’t much time.”