The silence that filled the chamber after the revenant collapsed was so absolute, it felt as though the very air had been sucked out of the room. Liyana stood there, her heart still racing, her blood magic humming under her skin like a storm barely contained. Her body trembled, the adrenaline still coursing through her, but the immediate danger had passed.
For a moment, all she could do was breathe.
Her muscles ached, her limbs heavy from the sheer effort it had taken to channel that much magic. It had been years since she'd allowed herself to tap into it like this, and now, standing in the aftermath, she wasn't sure how to feel about it. Part of her wanted to celebrate—she'd survived, hadn't she? But the other part of her, the part that had spent her whole life running from her family's blood magic, felt something far more unsettling.
She had unleashed it. And it had felt... too easy.
Liyana glanced down at her hands, flexing her fingers, as if expecting to see something different about them now. But there was nothing. No blood, no visible sign of the power she had just wielded. Just her—breathing heavily in the damp, suffocating air of the mausoleum.
"You okay?" Malik's voice broke through the stillness, and Liyana looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his cane held loosely in one hand, his face pale but steady.
"Yeah," she managed, though her voice sounded far more tired than she intended. "Just peachy."
Malik's lips quirked up in a tired smile. "Well, that was... intense."
Liyana let out a shaky laugh, her hands still trembling. "That's one word for it." She could feel the weight of what had just happened settling over her, the reality of how close they had come to disaster. The revenant—whatever it had been—was gone, but the magic that had filled the room, that had nearly consumed her, still lingered in the air. And it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
Rowan stood near the altar, watching her with those unreadable amber eyes. There was something in his gaze—something that made her stomach tighten with unease. He had seen what she was capable of, and she hated the way that knowledge made her feel exposed. Vulnerable.
"You handled yourself well," Rowan said, his voice steady, though there was an edge of something she couldn't quite place. "Not everyone can channel blood magic like that without losing control."
Liyana met his gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"
Rowan's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "No, I suppose you didn't. But that doesn't change the fact that you handled it." He paused, his gaze flicking toward the altar where the revenant had been bound. "We wouldn't have survived without you."
Liyana wasn't sure whether to feel grateful or uneasy about that. She had spent years trying to avoid her family's legacy, trying to stay on the logical, controlled side of things. But here, in Varnath, it seemed like that line between magic and control was thinner than she had ever realized. And she wasn't sure how much longer she could walk it.
"What the hell was that thing?" Malik asked, stepping forward, his gaze shifting from Liyana to Rowan. His tone was calm, but there was a tension there, a weariness that came from too many close calls in one night. "You said it was a revenant, but it felt like... more than that."
Rowan's expression darkened slightly, and he nodded. "It was more." His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "It wasn't just a revenant—it was bound to something far older. Something that shouldn't exist in the world of the living."
Liyana frowned, her skin prickling at the implications. Something older? That didn't sound promising. "You mean like an ancient spirit?"
"No," Rowan said quietly, his gaze hardening. "Worse. There are things older than death, things that existed before the magic we know was even conceived. This revenant—it was a fragment, a vessel for something far darker."
Malik swore softly under his breath, shaking his head. "So what does that mean for us? Are there more of these things?"
Rowan hesitated, his jaw tightening. "There could be."
Liyana let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. Great. Just great. She had come here to investigate a series of resurrections, not get caught up in some ancient magical nightmare. But, of course, that's exactly how things always seemed to go in Varnath—one minute you're following the trail of the dead, the next, you're fighting off ancient horrors that shouldn't even exist.
"So what now?" Liyana asked, her voice sharper than she intended. She wasn't angry, exactly—just... tired. Tired of feeling like every step she took in this cursed city only brought her closer to something she couldn't control.
Rowan's eyes flickered with something unreadable before he answered. "Now, we find out how many more of these revenants are out there—and what exactly they're tied to."
Liyana crossed her arms, trying to suppress the uneasy feeling crawling up her spine. "And you think this is tied to the resurrections? The ones I came here to investigate?"
Rowan nodded. "I'm sure of it. The dead are being pulled back, but not in the usual way. Something else is pulling the strings, and this revenant was just a symptom."
A cold knot of dread settled in Liyana's stomach. She had known this investigation would take her into dangerous territory, but this was more than she had bargained for. Ancient forces. Bound spirits. And blood magic everywhere I look. Fantastic.
"And you knew all this from the start?" Malik asked, his tone quiet but probing. Liyana knew that look—Malik was suspicious, and she didn't blame him. Rowan had been far too calm about the whole thing.
Rowan met Malik's gaze, his expression hardening slightly. "I suspected. But I didn't know the full extent of what we were dealing with until now."
Liyana frowned, her arms tightening around herself. Suspected. That wasn't exactly comforting. But then again, nothing in Varnath ever was. She glanced around the chamber, the weight of the place pressing down on her again. The shadows still lingered, the magic still thick in the air. Whatever had been bound here was gone, but its presence still lingered—an echo of something ancient and hungry.
"So what's the next step?" Liyana asked, her voice quieter now, but no less determined. They had to move forward. She had to move forward. There was no going back, not after this.
Rowan took a slow breath, his gaze shifting toward the entrance of the mausoleum. "We start by finding the next one. Whatever's behind these resurrections, it's not going to stop until it gets what it wants." He paused, his eyes meeting Liyana's. "And we need to figure out what that is before it's too late."
Liyana's pulse quickened, her mind racing. There was something in the way Rowan said it—something that hinted at a deeper connection to all of this. A connection he hadn't fully explained yet. But she wasn't going to press him now. They had all barely made it through the night.
The weight of the situation settled over her, and Liyana exhaled slowly, steeling herself for whatever came next. The revenant had been the beginning, but it was far from the end. Varnath wasn't done with them yet.
And she wasn't done with Varnath.