The fire in the library hearth burned low and steady, casting a warm orange glow across the rows of ancient books. The scent of aged paper and beeswax mingled with the faint, comforting smell of seasoned oak woodsmoke.
The flames didn't leap the way they did in the depths of winter; they hadn't settled into a comfortable, persistent heat that pushed back against the cool August evening. Dust motes drifted through the slanted light, spinning slowly as they passed through the golden shafts that fell from the high windows.
Jack sat at the large mahogany table, its dark surface polished to a mirror shine that reflected the dancing firelight. A stack of parchment lay spread before him, covered in his precise handwriting. There were notes, calculations, and diagrams of rune sequences that he had studied and restudied over the past months.
Aldric sat across from him, reading glasses perched on his nose and a heavy leather-bound text open in his lap. The smell of old leather and drying ink was thick around him.
Jane occupied the armchair near the window, a cup of tea cooling on the small table beside her. A thin wisp of steam curled from the cup, carrying the faint scent of chamomile. Seraphina had claimed the settee, her knitting needles clicking in a steady, rhythmic pulse. Her eyes moved between her husband and her son, though her hands never faltered.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sounds were the fire's crackle, the soft, dry rasp of a page turning, and the needles' click.
Jack set his quill down. The sound was small, a sharp tap against the wood. "I think for the blood rituals, we can still use the hybrid approach."
Aldric looked up from his book, the firelight glinting off his lenses. "Set C again?"
"Yes." Jack pushed a sheet of parchment across the table. It held the same diagrams they had studied months ago: the protective base from Set A and the three selective channeling runes from Set B. There were ten marks in total. "The ancestor's notes suggested the theory was sound, even if it wasn't tested. We tested it. It worked."
Aldric studied the diagrams again, though he had memorized them weeks ago. "She handled it well."
"She did." Jack let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. "The pain was moderate, just as the notes estimated. She whimpered, yes. But she didn't scream. She didn't..." He stopped, his jaw tightening as he left the sentence unfinished.
No one needed him to finish it. They all remembered the bath. They all remembered the screams that had echoed through the stone halls.
Jane's hand tightened on her chair's arm. The memory of the bath sat in her chest, heavy and immovable. She could still hear it sometimes, late at night, when the house was quiet and her mind had nothing else to focus on. She heard Morwenna's voice, raw and desperate, calling for her. She remembered being held back, her own muscles straining against arms she couldn't break.
Seraphina's needles slowed but didn't stop. Her eyes rested on Jane for a moment before she returned her attention to her husband.
Aldric removed his glasses and set them on the table with a soft click. "The question now is whether we increase the rune count for her second blood ritual."
Jack nodded slowly. "I have been thinking about that."
"She can handle more." Aldric leaned back, his face staying still. "The first ritual was a taste, not a flood. Ten runes. She was three. She whimpered and she trembled, but she stayed awake. She stayed present. That's more than many older children manage with fewer marks."
"She was brave." Jack's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "She was so brave."
"She was." Aldric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "And because she was brave, because her body accepted the runes without rejection, we have room to push further. The second ritual, at four, can carry more weight. Fifteen runes, perhaps. Maybe eighteen."
Jane's head came up. "That's almost double."
"It's an increase, yes." Aldric met her eyes. "But she will be a year older. A year stronger. Her body will have had twelve months to adapt to the first set of runes, to settle into the pathways they created. Adding more now will deepen those pathways, widen them, and reinforce the foundation."
"The more complete the preparation," Seraphina said quietly, her needles still clicking, "the tougher her body becomes. The more ordered her magic becomes. And that order, that strength, it will be her foundation for L'Éveil du Sang."
Jane's jaw tightened. The French name hung in the air between them. The ritual had been used only three times in five hundred years, and it would determine whether her daughter survived her second maturity.
She looked at the fire. The flames danced, casting shadows that shifted across the stone hearth. "I know what is at stake."
Jack reached across the table and took her hand. She held on, her fingers cold against his warmth.
"The blood rituals are the only thing we know, with certainty, that strengthens her body safely," Aldric continued, his tone softening. "Every rune we add now is a rune that will be working for her when she is five, when she needs every advantage she can get."
Jane nodded but didn't speak. Her eyes stayed on the fire. Then she stood. "I need to get something."
She left the library before anyone could ask. Her footsteps echoed in the corridor, quick and purposeful. The portraits watched her pass. Edmund nodded from his frame, Isolde smiled a faint smile, and the old woman with white hair simply observed with pale eyes. Jane didn't stop.
In the master bedroom, she crossed to the small writing desk in the corner. The drawer opened with a soft creak. Inside, beneath a stack of letters and a small velvet pouch, lay a folded parchment. It was old, the edges soft and frayed, the ink faded to a dusty brown. Jane had kept it since Morwenna was born, tucked away for a day she wasn't sure would ever come.
She carried it back to the library, the paper feeling fragile between her fingers. The others looked up when she entered. She didn't explain herself; she simply sat down and spread the parchment on the table, smoothing the creases with her palm.
Jack leaned forward to look. "What is this?"
"From Grand-mère." Jane's voice was steady now. "She sent it years ago, when Morwenna was just born. I have been holding onto it."
Aldric adjusted his glasses and studied the faded script. "It's in French. Old French."
"From the Evans archives." Jane traced the parchment's edge. "It describes a ritual. An Evans blood ritual."
Seraphina's needles stopped. "Another blood ritual?"
"Different from the Keith version." Jane looked up at them. "It doesn't follow a strict schedule. It doesn't require a specific window after the birthday. It can be performed at any time, as long as the child is healthy and the preparations are complete."
"Any time?" Aldric's brow furrowed. "That's unusual."
"The LeFay line has always been flexible." A faint smile touched Jane's lips. "We adapt."
Jack leaned closer, his eyes scanning the lines. "What does it involve?"
Jane read from the parchment, translating as she went. "The ritual uses lineage essence. Ingredients from the direct line: blood, hair, something that carries the family's magical signature. These are prepared in a specific solution and applied to the skin in patterns. Not carved, not permanent. Absorbed."
She looked up, her gaze moving over each of them. "For maximum effect, we include all six. Both sets of parents and grandparents. My blood, Jack's blood. Maman's, Papa's. Mother and Father-in-law's. Six essences, woven together, applied to her skin."
"Six," Seraphina repeated quietly. "That's..."
"Intimate," Jane agreed. "And powerful. The ritual feeds the bloodline itself. It strengthens her connection to ancestral magic. It doesn't create new pathways; that's what the Keith rituals do. It deepens the existing ones. It makes her blood remember what it carries."
Aldric stayed silent for a long moment, processing the implications. Then he asked, "And the physical effects? Does it strengthen her body?"
"It can." Jane pointed to a section of the parchment. "The base formula focuses on lineage connection. But there are optional ingredients that add a strengthening element. If we include those, the ritual also fortifies her body. Not as aggressively as the Keith rituals, but it helps."
"So we can layer them." Jack's voice was thoughtful now. "Keith rituals build the channels. Evans ritual deepens the bloodline connection and adds some physical reinforcement. The medicinal bath prepares the core for maturity."
Jane nodded. "Three layers. Each one supporting the others."
She looked at the parchment again, her eyes catching on the final warnings. "The text says the sensation is mild if we use only the lineage essences. Warmth, a gentle pressure, a sense of being held. The child sleeps deeply afterward and wakes rested."
She paused, her fingers curling slightly at the paper's edge. "But if we add the strengthening ingredients, it will hurt more. The text is clear about that. The body has to work harder to absorb them. The warmth becomes heat. The pressure becomes ache. She will feel it."
Silence settled over the room. The fire crackled, a small explosion of wood releasing a pocket of sap. A log shifted, sending sparks up the chimney.
"How much more?" Jack asked.
Jane read the passage again, her finger tracing the faded words. "It says: 'The child may cry out. She may struggle against the sensation. But the pain passes within hours, and the sleep that follows is deep and healing.'"
She looked at Jack. "It won't be like the bath. It won't be half an hour of screams. But it won't be nothing either."
Jack stayed quiet. His hand found hers under the table, his thumb rubbing small circles against her skin.
Aldric spoke first. "When would we do it?"
"Before she turns five." Jane's voice was firm. "We can do it three times before her second maturity. Give her body time to adapt between each one. The first Evans ritual, maybe December or January. That gives us four or five months to prepare. To gather the ingredients. To consult with Grand-mère."