chapter 4 Veiled Truths

The Blackwood estate looms against the afternoon sky like something from a gothic novel—all weathered stone and sweeping gables, surrounded by ancient oak trees whose branches scrape against upper windows when the wind blows. I stand at the wrought-iron gates, second-guessing my decision to come alone.

Luna had offered to accompany me, her aura pulsing with protective blues when I told her about meeting Vivian Blackwood at the lighthouse. But I'd fed her a sanitized version of events, omitting the parts about family curses and mysterious convergences. Those revelations would prompt questions I'm not ready to answer.

So here I am, alone, pushing open a gate that creaks in cinematic perfection.

The front door swings open before I reach it. Cain stands in the doorway, dressed in dark jeans and a gray henley that matches his eyes. Without his usual coat, he looks less intimidating but no less intense.

"You came," he says, sounding faintly surprised.

"Apparently I'm making a lot of questionable decisions lately."

He steps aside to let me enter. "My mother isn't here. She's staying at the hotel in town."

The foyer is grand but faded, like a black and white photograph slowly being reclaimed by time. Dust covers sheet-draped furniture, and the chandelier above holds more cobwebs than crystals.

"No one's lived here for years," Cain explains, leading me through to what appears to be a library. Unlike the rest of the house, this room shows signs of recent use—cleaned surfaces, a fire crackling in the hearth, books stacked on a massive desk by the window. "I've only been back a week."

"Why come back at all?" I ask, running my finger along a shelf of leather-bound volumes. "You disappeared for ten years."

"Not by choice." He gestures to an armchair near the fire. "Sit. This will take some explaining."

I perch on the edge of the chair, watching as he pours amber liquid from a crystal decanter into two glasses. He hands me one before settling into the chair opposite mine.

"Your parents never told you about your gift," he begins. It's not a question.

I take a sip of what turns out to be excellent whiskey. "They called it special. Said I was sensitive to energies others couldn't perceive."

"But they never explained why you have it."

"They died before they could." The words come out more bitter than intended. "Car accident when I was eighteen."

Cain's expression darkens. "It wasn't an accident."

My fingers tighten around the glass. "What do you mean?"

"Your parents were murdered. So was my father."

The room seems to tilt slightly. "That's impossible. There were investigations—"

"By people who wouldn't recognize magical assassination if it happened in front of them." He leans forward, eyes intent on mine. "Our families have been guardians of a secret for centuries, Elara. A secret some would kill to protect, and others would kill to exploit."

I take another, larger swallow of whiskey. "Start at the beginning."

He does. The story he tells sounds like fantasy—a tale of old magic, cosmic alignments, and family legacies. According to Cain, Moonhaven sits at a convergence point of mystical energy lines. Every ninety-three years, a celestial alignment called the Convergence amplifies this energy, thinning the barrier between our world and... something else. Something dark.

"The first settlers discovered this the hard way," he says, staring into the fire. "The 1739 Convergence nearly destroyed the town. Only two families found a way to contain the darkness—"

"The Nightingales and the Blackwoods," I finish.

He nods. "They created a ritual that required one member from each family, each possessing specific abilities. Your ancestors could see into the spaces between worlds. Mine could create barriers, containing energies that should never mix with our reality."

"And now that's us?" I say skeptically. "Because I see emotions, and you... what? Have some kind of force field?"

His mouth quirks slightly. "Something like that. I can shield—myself, others, places. It's why you can't read my aura."

I set down my glass with a sharp click. "How do you know about that?"

"Because it's how our abilities have always manifested. A Nightingale who sees beyond normal perception, a Blackwood who shields and contains." He leans back in his chair. "And in every generation where the Convergence occurs, the abilities become stronger, more specific to what's needed."

"Needed for what exactly?"

"To reinforce the barrier during the Convergence. To keep whatever's on the other side from breaking through." His expression grows somber. "But there's a cost. There always is with old magic."

A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the drafty mansion. "What cost?"

Cain hesitates, watching me with those storm-gray eyes. "The ritual... it binds the participants. Not just their powers, but their life forces. The Nightingale and Blackwood who perform it become connected in ways that transcend normal human bonds."

"Connected how?" My voice sounds distant to my own ears.

"Their lives become intertwined, their fates shared." He sets his glass aside. "In the past, some interpretations of the ritual led to... marriages. Unions that would strengthen the binding."

I choke on my whiskey. "Excuse me?"

"It's not a requirement," he says quickly. "Just tradition. A misinterpretation of the texts, according to your parents."

"My parents knew about this? They were involved?"

"They were meant to be." He stands, moving to the desk where he retrieves an old photograph. "The last Convergence was in 1932. Your grandparents performed the ritual successfully, but they knew the next one would fall to their children."

He hands me the photo. It shows four young people—two I recognize as my parents in their twenties, and two I don't know, though one has Cain's jawline and storm-gray eyes.

"My parents and yours were prepared from childhood for their roles," Cain continues. "They grew up together, trained together. But something changed. Your mother began to question the necessity of the ritual, convinced there might be another way to protect the town."

"And your father agreed with her," I guess, remembering Vivian's accusations at the lighthouse.

Cain nods. "Which made my mother feel betrayed. She comes from a hardline faction of practitioners who believe the ritual doesn't just contain the darkness—it can harness it. Use it as a source of power."

I study the photo, these four young people smiling without any idea of the fractures that would develop between them. "So what happened?"

"Your mother found references to an alternative method in some old texts. Something that might permanently seal the breach without requiring the binding. She and my father began researching it secretly." His voice tightens. "My mother discovered their plans three months before you and I were to be... introduced."

"Introduced?" I raise an eyebrow.

"We were ten. Our families were supposed to bring us together, begin our training as partners." A shadow crosses his face. "Instead, my mother took me away in the night. Told me your family had betrayed our legacy. My father stayed behind to continue the research with your parents."

The pieces start clicking into terrible place. "And seven years later, they all died within days of each other."

"Heart failure, the coroners said. No signs of trauma."

"But you don't believe that."

He moves back to the fire, staring into the flames. "I believe my mother found a way to stop them permanently. Magic that would appear natural to medical examiners."

I stand abruptly, setting the photo down with shaking hands. "This is insane. You're telling me my parents were murdered by your mother because of some ancient magical duty that now falls to us?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you." He turns to face me. "And the Convergence is coming, Elara. November 15th. Less than a month away. My mother brought me back because she needs a Blackwood for the ritual. But she wants to perform a corrupted version—one that won't just contain the darkness, but channel it to her."

"And she needs both of us for that?" My head is spinning.

"No. She needs me as the Blackwood conduit. But for her version to work, she needs to eliminate the Nightingale counterbalance." His eyes meet mine. "You."

The room suddenly feels too small, the weight of generations pressing down on me. "Why should I believe any of this?"

"Because you've seen things all your life that others can't. Because you found your parents' journal with the same information. Because deep down, you know I'm telling the truth." He takes a step toward me. "And because there's a simple way to prove it."

"Which is?"

"Let me show you what I can do."

Before I can respond, he reaches out and takes my hand. The moment our skin touches, something electric passes between us—but different from the vision at the café. This time, I feel a sensation like cool water flowing up my arm, wrapping around me.

And then, for the first time in my life, the constant barrage of emotional input stops. The background hum of feelings I've lived with for as long as I can remember—gone. Complete silence in my mind.

I gasp, my free hand flying to my chest.

"What did you do?" I whisper.

"I'm shielding you," he says, still holding my hand. "Blocking your ability temporarily."

Tears spring unexpectedly to my eyes. I've never known what it's like to be in a room with another person and not feel their emotions pressing against my consciousness. The relief is so profound I feel lightheaded.

"This is what it's like for everyone else," I murmur. "Just... quiet."

Something in Cain's expression softens. "I can teach you to control it better, even without my help. But this—this connection—it's proof of what I'm saying. Our abilities are designed to work together."

I pull my hand away reluctantly, and immediately the world floods back in—not just Cain, whose emotions remain frustratingly hidden, but the ambient feelings that seem to permeate the very walls of the house: old grief, fear, determination.

"Even if I believe you," I say slowly, "what are we supposed to do? Perform this ritual? Let your mother use us to gain power? Find my parents' alternative method?"

"First, we need to prepare. If my mother realizes I'm working against her, she'll find another way to eliminate you." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I'm beginning to recognize as a sign of stress. "You need to learn to use your ability properly, not just suppress it."

"And you'll teach me?" I can't keep the skepticism from my voice.

"There's someone better suited for that part." He checks his watch. "She should be here soon."

As if on cue, a sharp knock sounds from the foyer. Cain excuses himself, returning moments later with Mrs. Holloway.

"You knew," I say as she enters, her plum-colored aura now making perfect sense. "All these years."

"I made a promise to your mother," she says simply, setting her large purse on a side table. "To watch over you until it was time."

"Time for what?"

"For you to fulfill your destiny. Or change it." She smiles, suddenly looking less like the prim librarian I've known and more like someone who has seen centuries pass. "That part is up to you."