Veltyen was slightly more prepared the second time his enna suddenly expanded into an infinite ocean of magic. Gritting his teeth, he choked off the connections feeding his readied spells, cutting them off completely rather than risk another uncontrolled release.

Or, at least he thought he had cut the connection. Though he managed to prevent a noisy explosion of mana crystal like before, the seams of his armour repeatedly burst and repaired themselves until the extra magic drained away.

The episode lasted about a minute this time. Near the end, he recovered enough presence of mind to start analyzing the magic. It felt as if someone had removed a wall in his enna and it had become part of a much, much larger vessel, so much so that he was not certain it had any limits.

It could only belong to Sery, though Veltyen had had no idea that she held such a raging storm of magic within her.

It was an utter relief that he could sense a direction where the other part of his expanded enna was, though he sensed nothing more detailed than westward towards Oslethia before the connection disappeared. The internal naming triggered his magical theory knowledge, and he recognized the phenomenon as resonance.

It explained why Sery had spent so much time ‘listening’ to his enna. She had been working on sharing her magic with him in the most absolute way for months. His sense of her absence sharpened so keenly that for a moment, he could not breathe.

Their investigation was making steady but excruciatingly slow progress. Several tracking mages had been dispatched through Roswan’s Guild Association headquarters and they were taking turns tracing the kidnapper’s trail, slowed by the fact that the kidnapper sometimes travelled in loops that confused his trail in the time dimension, seemed to have an endless number of horses to switch between, and once even set off a magical device that was illegal because its only use was to ‘explode’ in the time dimension and make it impossible to track or scry a particular event.

Veltyen was sticking as close as he could to the trackers without actively getting in their way, taking in every possible detail of every re-enactment spell, hoping for the slightest detail that would allow him to figure out Sery’s location without having to laboriously trace her journey step by step.

There was something off about the kidnapper’s mounts, something that niggled at the back of his mind without him being able to figure out what was bothering him. It was only when Magewhisper recovered enough from the Chase event and was able to join them on the third day that the irregularity was identified.

Within seconds of seeing the latest re-enactment spell, the stallion trumpeted an alarm, making the distinctive sign that meant ‘birthplace’, or ‘Silver Meadows’. With that clue, the pieces clicked together. “That’s a mage mount,” he realized in outrage and disbelief, “one that can disguise itself.” Despite taking on different mane and coat colours, the kidnapper’s horse remained the same in size and conformation through each transformation. He found it unbelievable that a horse from such a reputable line was involved in this kind of crime.

“What? I thought mage mounts could only use magic for running and jumping,” Asher said in confusion, not very familiar with horses in general.

“That’s mostly true, but the Meadows family has been working on expanding their abilities. Mindseye is a full energy mage,” he said, pointing at Sery’s mount. In no mood for side discussions, the pony was already nudging Foria, urging her to contact Silver Meadows for answers.

It took a while for them to locate Tyrone Meadows; upon realizing just how much ambient magic Sery produced, the family had purchased a farm right next to Eterna to house their pregnant mares while the rest of their facilities remained at the original site, and Tyrone was at the new branch location.

He listened to the story with grave concern on his expression. “None of our horses or their partners should be getting into anything illegal; we run background checks on any prospective partners and check on them annually after they’re partnered. But if you’re telling me that this horse is casting disguise spells, it can’t be anything other than a Silver Meadows pedigree, and one of the oldest lines, too… Is there any way you can send me an image?”

Foria pulled a recording she had done of one of the re-enactment spells and transmitted it. Within seconds, Tyrone paled in recognition and worry. “Silverlight…” he murmured.

The name sounded familiar, but it took Veltyen a few seconds to remember. “What, that mare that caused the commotion when Sery went to find her partner? I thought you declared her unsuitable for ever becoming a mage mount.”

“After the incident, she was very subdued, almost depressed. Then a young, rich noble came around, all flattery and affection. It seemed to do her some good. He didn’t actually need a mage mount’s abilities for anything, just wanted the prestige. I let her go, figured she could learn a thing or two in the real world. It’s the biggest waste of any talent I’ve ever bred, but I thought it was better to let her go with him and become a pretty riding horse than put her in situations where she might put her partner in danger.”

“Who? Who was it?” Veltyen asked, though he had a strong suspicion he already knew.

It took Tyrone a while to call the main farm and have someone find the paperwork, but eventually, the answer came: “Tristane Everlei.”

***

Sery forced herself to eat the slice of cake in front of her while Tristane sat beside her and played with a lock of her hair. The contact made her skin crawl, but she kept her expression neutral and her tension confined to making a tight fist with the hand he could not see.

It had been disconcertingly easy to convince Tristane that she saw him as a protector and an ally, just a few forced smiles and compliments that felt flat to her, but were obviously what he wanted to hear. In response, his behaviour became increasingly affectionate towards her, bringing her extra furniture and amenities as well as fancy desserts with meals.

And the physical contact. It was not so much that he held her hand or stroked her hair that made her feel contaminated, but the fact that she had to force herself to stay relaxed, create the impression that she welcomed his touch. The resemblance to Veltyen’s affectionate gestures only heightened the sense of wrongness, making her feel like she was coated in a layer of psychic filth that no amount of washing could remove.

Tristane was going on about places they could go together “once her necklace was ready,” as if she were not going to be forced into a shackle that would cripple her magic. She nodded along, using cues from his tone of voice to make the expected responses rather than really listening to his words. She kept her mouth full of food so he would not expect her to say anything.

“Sery…”

She looked up to see Tristane’s face way too close, his expression ardent in a way that made her instincts scream.

She had a split second to react, to weigh her ongoing deception and chances of escape against what she wanted and very much did not want.

She dropped her fork, sending icing spattering over their clothing. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, using the excuse to pull away and wipe at her robes.

Her mage robe, made by Evodie, came away entirely clean with a few swipes of a napkin, but Tristane’s garment did not fare nearly as well.

He was clearly annoyed at having his fine outfit ruined, but trying to be magnanimous about it. “Oh, don’t worry, I have dozens of these,” he said, stopping his own efforts with a napkin when it just made the smears of icing larger. “I’d better get changed. See you in the morning, sweetheart.”

The endearment as he left was an indicator of how well her deception was going, but also a warning that she was about to be trapped by her own lies.

As soon as he was gone, she curled up in bed, cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.

***

Veltyen’s magic surged twice more the next day as Foria delved deep into the information dimension to track Tristane’s financial activities over the last year, looking for clues as to where he could have hidden Sery. Each time lasted longer than the previous, giving him time to get an increasingly accurate read on her relative location.

He knew enough to start moving. He packed his gear and readied Magewhisper for riding, the stallion having recovered enough to run long distances as long as he did not magically augment his speed. Beside him, Mindseye stood, daring Veltyen to leave without her.

Sitting against a nearby tree, Asher opened bleary eyes, his skin dull and sallow in a way that told Veltyen he was pulling his magic storage trick. “Where are you going?”

“Towards Sery.”

“We don’t know where she is.”

“The hideout is going to be somewhere between Tristane’s estate and the Inheritance guild headquarters. There’s no other way he could manage to visit her without large, conspicuous absences. Once I’m in the area, I’ll be able to use the times we’re in resonance to get a more precise read on her location.”

Foria saw his preparations and came over. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ll ride ahead and try to track her by directional sense. Asher will keep working with the trackers to follow her actual route. You keep looking into his financials and anything else you can find in the information dimension. I’ll have my communication crystal if you find anything that gives away her location.”

Foria did not attempt to stop him. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“I won’t,” he promised. After all, when he killed Tristane, it would be an extremely precise, planned-out execution.