The fire in the library hearth burned low and steady, casting a warm orange glow over the rows of ancient books. The scent of aged paper and beeswax mingled with the comforting smell of oak woodsmoke, while the cool August evening settled beyond the high windows.
Jack sat at the large mahogany table, its polished surface reflecting the firelight. Before him lay several sheets of parchment covered in his precise handwriting: notes, calculations, and diagrams of rune sequences he had studied and reviewed countless times over the past few months.
Aldric sat across from him, reading glasses perched on his nose and a heavy, leather-bound book open in his lap. Jane occupied an armchair near the window, a cup of tea cooling on the small table beside her.
Seraphina had settled on the settee, her knitting needles clicking steadily as she watched her husband and son, though her hands never stopped moving.
For a long while, no one spoke. The only sounds were the crackling fire, the soft rustle of turning pages, and the rhythmic click of Seraphina's needles.
At last, Jack set down his quill.
"I think we can still use the hybrid approach for the blood rituals."
Aldric looked up, firelight glinting off his glasses. "Set C again?"
"Yes." Jack pushed a sheet of parchment across the table. It showed the same diagrams they had examined months earlier: the protective base from Set A combined with the three selective channeling runes from Set B, ten marks in total.
"The ancestor's notes suggested the theory was sound, even though it had never been tested. Now we have tested it, and it worked."
Aldric studied the diagrams again, despite having memorized them weeks ago. "She handled it well."
"She did." Jack let out a breath, as though he had been holding it for some time. "The pain was moderate, just as the notes predicted. She whimpered, yes, but she didn't scream. She didn't..."
His voice trailed off, his jaw tightening.
There was no need to finish the sentence. They all remembered the bath. They all remembered the screams that had echoed through the stone halls.
Jane's fingers tightened around the arm of her chair. The memory remained lodged in her chest, heavy and impossible to dislodge.
Sometimes, late at night, when the manor was quiet and her thoughts had nowhere else to go, she could still hear Morwenna's desperate cries for her. She remembered struggling against the arms holding her back, her own muscles straining as she tried to reach her daughter.
Seraphina's knitting slowed but didn't stop. She glanced at Jane before returning her attention to her husband and son.
Aldric removed his glasses and placed them on the table.
"The question now is whether we should increase the number of runes for her second blood ritual."
Jack nodded slowly. "I have been thinking about that."
"She can handle more." Aldric leaned back, his expression composed. "The first ritual was a taste, not a flood. Ten runes, and she was only three. She whimpered and trembled, but she remained awake and present throughout. Many older children struggle with fewer marks."
"She was brave." Jack's voice softened until it was almost a whisper. "She was so brave."
"She was." Aldric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "And because she was brave, and because her body accepted the runes without rejecting them, we have room to go further. The second ritual, when she is four, can carry more weight. Fifteen runes, perhaps. Maybe eighteen."
Jane raised her head. "That's almost double."
"It's an increase." Aldric met her eyes. "But she will be a year older and stronger. Her body will have had twelve months to adapt to the first set of runes and settle into the pathways they created. Adding more will deepen those pathways, widen them, and reinforce the foundation."
"The more complete her preparation, the tougher her body will become," Seraphina said quietly, her needles still clicking. "Her magic will also become more ordered. That strength and order will form the foundation she needs for L'Éveil du Sang."
Jane's jaw tightened at the French name. The ritual had been performed only three times in the past five hundred years, and its outcome would determine whether her daughter survived her second maturity.
She turned her gaze toward the fire, watching the flames flicker and the shadows shift across the stone hearth.
"I know what is at stake."
Jack reached across the table and took her hand. She held on to him, her fingers cold against his warmth.
"The blood rituals are the only method we know for certain can strengthen her body safely," Aldric continued, his voice gentler now. "Every rune we add today will be working for her when she is five, when she will need every advantage she can get."
Jane nodded but said nothing. Her gaze remained fixed on the flames.
After a moment, she rose from her chair.
"I need to get something."
She left before anyone could ask what she meant. Her footsteps echoed along the corridor, quick and purposeful, while the portraits watched her pass. Edmund nodded from his frame, Isolde offered a faint smile, and the old white-haired woman simply observed her with pale, ancient eyes.
Jane didn't stop.
In the master bedroom, she crossed to the small writing desk in the corner and opened the drawer. Beneath a stack of letters and a small velvet pouch lay a folded piece of parchment.
It was old, its edges worn and frayed, the ink faded to a dusty brown. Jane had kept it ever since Morwenna's birth, saving it for a day she had never been sure would come.
She carried it back to the library, holding the fragile paper carefully between her fingers.
The others looked up when she entered. Without explaining herself, she sat down and laid the parchment on the table, smoothing its creases with her palm.
Jack leaned forward.
"What is that?"
"Something from Grand-mère." Jane's voice was steady now. "She sent it years ago, when Morwenna was just born. I have been keeping it ever since."
Aldric adjusted his glasses and examined the faded writing.
"It's in French. Old French."
"From the Evans archives." Jane traced the edge of the parchment with one finger. "It describes a ritual. An Evans blood ritual."
Seraphina's knitting needles came to a halt.
"Another blood ritual?"
"Different from the Keith version." Jane looked around the table. "It doesn't follow a strict schedule, nor does it have to be performed within a particular period after a birthday. It can be done at any time, provided the child is healthy and all the preparations are complete."
"At any time?" Aldric frowned. "That's unusual."
"The LeFay line has always been flexible." A faint smile touched Jane's lips. "We adapt."
Jack leaned closer, scanning the faded lines. "What does it involve?"
Jane began reading from the parchment, translating as she went.
"The ritual uses lineage essence. Ingredients taken from the direct family line: blood, hair, or anything else that carries the family's magical signature. These are prepared in a specific solution and applied to the skin in patterns. Nothing is carved into the body, and the marks aren't permanent. The skin absorbs the solution."
She paused, then looked at each of them in turn.
"For the greatest effect, we should include all six. Both sets of parents and grandparents. My blood and Jack's. Maman's and Papa's. Yours as well, Mother and Father-in-law. Six essences, woven together and applied to her skin."
"Six," Seraphina repeated softly. "That's..."
"Intimate," Jane finished for her. "And powerful. The ritual nourishes the bloodline itself, strengthening her connection to ancestral magic. It doesn't create new pathways. That's what the Keith rituals are for. Instead, it deepens the pathways already there and makes her blood remember what it carries."
Aldric fell silent, considering the implications. After a moment, he asked, "And what about the physical effects? Can it strengthen her body as well?"
"It can." Jane pointed to a section of the parchment. "The basic formula focuses on strengthening the connection to the bloodline, but there are optional ingredients that add a physical strengthening element. If we include those, the ritual will fortify her body too. Not as aggressively as the Keith rituals, but it will still help."
"So we can combine them." Jack's voice had taken on a thoughtful note. "The Keith rituals build the channels. The Evans ritual deepens her connection to her bloodline and provides some physical reinforcement. Then the medicinal bath prepares her core for maturity."
Jane nodded. "Three layers, each supporting the others."
She looked down at the parchment again, her eyes settling on the final warnings.
"The text says the sensation is mild if we use only the lineage essences. She will feel warmth, gentle pressure, and a sense of being held. Afterwards, she will sleep deeply and wake up rested."
Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the paper.
"But if we add the strengthening ingredients, it will hurt more. The text is very clear about that. Her body will have to work harder to absorb them. The warmth will become heat, and the pressure will turn into an ache. She will feel it."
Silence settled over the library.
The fire crackled as a pocket of sap burst inside a log. The wood shifted, sending a few sparks up the chimney.
"How much more?" Jack asked.
Jane reread the passage, tracing the faded words with her finger.
"It says, 'The child may cry out. She may struggle against the sensation. But the pain will pass within hours, and the sleep that follows will be deep and healing.'"
She lifted her eyes to Jack.
"It won't be like the bath. It won't be half an hour of screaming. But it won't be painless, either."
Jack said nothing. Beneath the table, he found her hand and gently rubbed his thumb over her skin.
Aldric was the first to speak.
"When would we perform it?"
"Before she turns five." Jane's answer was firm. "We can perform it three times before her second maturity, giving her body time to adapt between each session. We could do the first Evans ritual in December or January. That gives us four or five months to prepare, gather the ingredients, and consult Grand-mère."