The day after the assassination attempt, all was quiet. It was as if nothing had happened, all traces of the chaos from the day before seemingly erased.
Sonder found herself adjusting to it all far more quickly than she expected.
Perhaps it was her undead nature—her emotions rose like tides but ebbed away just as quickly. She still cared deeply, of course, but moments that might have shaken her to her core when she was alive now dissolved into a calm clarity before long.
That morning, she had one brief conversation with Vell before he left with Lunt Senior on political business.
When she entered his room, she found him sitting by the window, the lamplight casting his silhouette in sharp relief.
"You've been quiet since yesterday," she said softly, stepping inside.
He didn't turn to look at her, merely nodded slightly. "I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"About what comes next," he replied, his voice calm but thoughtful.
"What comes next?" she asked, moving closer.
"I don't know," he admitted. "That's why I'm thinking about it. I want to leave—sooner rather than later. Maybe you do too. But I've promised to help Lunt with his campaign, so for now… we stay."
He extended a hand toward her. "Here. Give me your hand."
Curious, Sonder placed her hand in his.
"When I'm away," Vell began, "I constantly worry about you."
Before she could protest—before she could remind him that she was far from helpless—he continued, his tone firm but warm.
"No matter how capable you are, or how confident you feel about defending yourself, I will always worry."
He traced his finger across her palm, the motion deliberate and careful. Lines began to form, faint at first, then deepening into vivid red marks that seemed almost alive.
"You are of me," he said, his voice low, "as a friend, an apprentice, even a daughter of sorts. What kind of creature would I be if I didn't worry?"
When he finished, the markings didn't look like runes or sigils. They resembled writing—letters or symbols, but in a script unfamiliar to her.
Sonder stared at her palm. "What is it?"
"It's a protection spell," Vell explained. "The words come from an old prayer. It's something I learned long ago from someone who knew how to keep their loved ones safe. I've shortened it to just one word. Focus some of your mana on it."
She did as he instructed, channeling a small amount of mana to her palm. The markings glowed a vibrant red, flickering faintly like embers.
"It's easy, isn't it?" Vell said, a faint smile crossing his lips.
He held up his other hand and began tracing the same word into his own palm. When he finished, he glanced at her. "Now there's a connection between the words. Try lighting yours up again."
Sonder concentrated, and as her palm lit with the same fiery glow, Vell's palm lit up in response.
"It produces a sound too," he said.
He activated his own mark, and a soft, unplaceable noise resonated through Sonder's mind. It was subtle, almost melodic, but impossible to describe.
"If anyone else were to bear the same word on their body, they'd hear it too. But what are the odds of that? At least now I'll feel better leaving you. If you're ever in danger, you can call me with this. I'll know, and I'll come to your side as quickly as I can."
Sonder looked down at her glowing palm, a sense of reassurance washing over her.
"Now," Vell said, "let's hope you won't need to use it."