Chapter 54
+25 Points
Lyra had stumbled down the stairs, unsure where she was going, just that she needed space from Jake. She found herself on the guest wing floor, knocking on Donovan’s door.
“Donnie?” she called.
“It’s unlocked,” came his voice.
He was staying in a large room with a king–sized bed and a nicely sized sitting area. She could tell a chair had been removed to give him more space to maneuver his wheelchair. Donovan sat on the couch, covered in a soft blanket, reading one of their mother’s journals.
“You look like shit.”
A tired laugh escaped her. “Yeah. Thanks.”
She flopped down beside him, dropping her head onto his shoulder. For a long moment, they
sat in silence.
“Heard you visited a witch,” he said, closing the book.
“How’d you hear that?” She closed her eyes, not lifting her head.
“I was with Jake when Callan came to get him. We were at the training hall.”
Lyra pulled back, looking at him. “How the hell did you get into the training hall?”
Donovan smiled. “There’s a ramp now. They’re finishing both ramps on the packhouse tomorrow. Jake had me meet him there. He set up a space for me to work out and everything.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. He helped me with a workout. Taught me how to use the equipment. Some of the other guys even came over to talk and hang out.”
Lyra watched him as he talked about the workout, the space, and the other guys. His face lit up in a way she had never seen before. She felt close to tears listening to him talk about Jake helping him find purpose, making him feel like part of the pack.
No wonder Jake had been so upset. He wasn’t just looking out for her. He was looking out for Donovan, too. And she had gone behind his back to meet with a witch.
Donovan finally trailed off, his smile faltering as he glanced at her.
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“Sorry,” he muttered, cheeks tinged pink. “Got a little carried away. We were supposed to be talking about the witch you ran off to see.”
Lyra smiled faintly. “It’s okay. It was actually really nice seeing you that excited.”
Donovan cleared his throat. “Right. So what happened with the witch?”
Lyra reached into her bag, pulling out the book and placing it on her lap. “Someone told me she would know what Mom was. I went to see if she had answers.”
He stared at the cover for a long moment. “And?”
With a sigh, Lyra told him about her conversation with Madeline.
“So this book…” Donovan ran his fingers reverently over the leather cover. “This book has the answers we need.”
“Hopefully.”
He took it from her hands carefully, as though it might crumble. He flipped through a few pages, the scent of old paper rising between them.
“This is handwritten,” he said, surprised. “Looks like it was copied from older texts, too. Some of the pages use different ink. Different handwriting.”
Lyra nodded. “Madeline said it was everything she had on Veriscents.”
He nodded once. “Well, I guess we should find out.”
He handed it back. Lyra opened to the first page. The script was ornate but legible, the ink faded but intact.
Let it first be said: the Veriscent is not witch nor wolf, not fae nor oracle, but a rarity born of a sacred bloodline. They are marked not by external sign, but by their seeing.
Where others perceive with eye and ear, the Veriscent perceives the undercurrent: the resonance beneath speech, the hue of a heart’s unrest. They are readers of emotion and weighers of truth.
Donovan leaned in. “Weighers of truth? That’s kind of poetic.”
Lyra nodded and read on.
To the Veriscent, deceit is not hidden. Lies ring discordant. They may see emotion as color, as vibration, as light, as temperature, or as sound, depending on their attunement. While the form varies, the gift remains. They know what others fear to admit, even to themselves.
Historically, Veriscents were sought as judges and spiritual counsel. But the same gift that
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brought kings to their doors brought executioners, too. The clarity of their perception threatened the powerful. It is written in the Fifth Cycle Scrolls that the fall of the eighteenth–century Fae Court began the first purge.
“Sounds like history didn’t go well for them,” Donovan murmured.
Lyra flipped the page. The next section was written in smaller, tighter script, as though copied
in haste.
There are three known manifestations of the Veriscent gift, often referred to as the Triad of Perception: Veritas, Concordia, and Vesselis.
Veritas: The Sight of Truth
The most commonly documented, though still rare. Enables the Veriscent to perceive emotional resonance in people and spaces. This sight often manifests visually, as colors or patterns, though some report tactile or auditory sensations.
Lyra shivered. “I’ve experienced this. Seeing emotions like colored mist. Words that appear golden or black and twisted.”
She met Donovan’s eyes, then turned back to the page.
Concordia: The Voice of Balance
Rare and the most feared. With this gift, the Veriscent may influence emotional states. This is not compulsion, but resonance, like tuning a discordant instrument until it sings in harmony. This gift is most potent when invoked with intention and care. Without discipline, it may manifest instinctively.
She swallowed. “That’s what happened with Jake.”
Donovan frowned. “What do you mean?”
She told him about what had happened in Jake’s office and the fight with Christian.
“I just said his name,” she whispered. “But I felt it. Like this warmth in my chest. When I spoke, it came out of me. He was surrounded in this red mist and then… it was gone. He calmed down. I don’t know how I did it.”
Donovan looked at the page, then back at her. “It says it can happen instinctively. Sounds like that’s what it was.”
“Yeah.” She turned the page.
Vesselis: The Sacred Embodiment
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This manifestation is scarcely documented and exceptionally rare. Where others perceive or influence, this one becomes. A Veriscent with this gift resonates so deeply with a force, emotion,
or element that it may alter their very nature.
In ancient rites, certain Veriscents were believed to bear the imprint of the divine, allowing them to harmonize with energies otherwise harmful or inaccessible. One account from the Ashen Codex tells of a Veriscent who endured prolonged exposure to pure silver, an element deadly to witches, werewolves, and Veriscents alike. Rather than succumbing, her body adapted, becoming a conduit for the metal’s purity and power.
Such gifts are not without danger. To act as a vessel is to invite transformation. The boundary between what is carried and what is consumed is perilously thin. A Veriscent may take on burdens not meant for any mortal to bear. It may also result in irreversible change to their physical state.
“What does that mean?” Donovan asked, frowning. “Do you feel anything like that?”
Lyra shook her head. “No. It’s supposed to be rare, right? I probably don’t have that one.” He shrugged. “Who knows what you can do? It’s not like Mom can tell us. She wrote about seeing emotions and auras, but never anything about this kind of stuff.”
Lyra sighed and leaned back against the cushions. “I really wish I could talk to her right now.”
Donovan nodded. “Me too.”
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