Chapter 26: Broken Trusts

Harlan found us near the training grounds as the afternoon mist began to thicken. Lira and I had just finished running a small group of newer fighters through basic formation drills. Most of them were still breathing hard, sweat cutting clean lines through the dirt on their faces. I dismissed them with orders to hydrate and rest before the evening rotation.

Harlan waited until they had gone. His posture was stiff, shoulders set as if he were bracing for a blow. For a moment he said nothing, only looked between Lira and me with an expression I had not seen on him before.

"I need to tell you both something," he said at last.

Lira’s ears angled forward. I remained silent and waited.

Harlan exhaled slowly. "I’ve agreed to undergo my uncle’s process. The same one used on Cael."

The words landed like a blade driven into the space between us.

Lira reacted first. "You what?"

"I’ve agreed to become the next subject," Harlan repeated, more steadily this time. "Preparations begin soon."

I studied him carefully. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only the hard acceptance of a man who had already crossed the line in his own mind. "When was this decided?"

"Last night. After we returned from the mission."

Lira took a step closer, her tail lashing once behind her. "Are you insane? You saw what happened to Cael. You were almost killed by him. And now you’re volunteering for the same thing?"

"It’s not the same," Harlan said. "Cael’s body couldn’t handle the core. Mine can. I’ve trained for years. I’m stronger. And I carry the bloodline. The potential is already there, it only needs to be forced awake."

I kept my voice level. "Cael’s power nearly tore him apart under stress. You watched it. You felt the backlash. That was not a minor complication. That was the process failing the moment it was tested in real conditions. You would be stepping into the same risk with open eyes."

Harlan’s jaw tightened. "You don’t understand what it’s like. Either of you." He looked at me first, then at Lira. "I was born into a family of mages. Every one of them could touch the currents. My parents. My sisters. My uncle. And me? Nothing. Not a spark. Do you know what that does to a person? Growing up watching everyone around you shape the world while you remain ordinary? Watching them die in the war while you survive only because you were never valuable enough to send to the front lines as a mage?"

His voice roughened. "I’ve spent my entire adult life training my body because it was the only path left to me. I’ve accepted being a soldier. I’ve accepted that the magic skipped me. But now there is a way to change that. A real way. I will not let it pass me by because the first attempt was imperfect."

Lira’s ears were fully back now. "This isn’t about imperfect. This is about people dying on tables and others collapsing in the field with their cores tearing them open. You are not a failed experiment waiting to be corrected. You’re our comrade. You’re—" She stopped, frustration clear in her face. "You’re supposed to be better than this."

"I am doing this because I want to be better," Harlan shot back. "Stronger. Useful in a way I have never been allowed to be. Grimgor is coming. The southern nobles will not save us. Antoine is one man, no matter how capable. We need more. I can be more."

I stepped slightly between them before the argument could sharpen further. "You’re gambling with your life on your uncle’s unproven adjustments. If the core rejects you, or if it takes hold and then fractures the way it did with Cael, there may not be a second chance. You understand that."

"I do." Harlan met my eyes without flinching. "I’m still doing it."

The silence that followed was heavy. Something fundamental had shifted. Until now the three of us had operated with a shared understanding, watched each other’s backs, questioned the leadership when necessary, and survived. Harlan’s decision placed him on the other side of a line that Lira, and to a large extent I, were not willing to cross.

Lira shook her head once, sharply. "Then you’re a fool." She turned and walked away toward the outer platforms, spear gripped tightly in one hand.

Harlan watched her go, then looked back at me. "I didn’t expect either of you to approve. I only wanted you to hear it from me."

"I heard it," I said. "That doesn’t mean I accept it."

He nodded once, as if that answer was the one he had prepared for, and left in the opposite direction.

I stood alone for a short while, the mist curling around the training posts. The fracture was real now. Trust had not been broken completely, but it had been damaged. And I knew Lira’s anger would not fade quickly.

****

Later that night, in the reinforced laboratory beneath Elandor’s hut, the work began.

Harlan sat on the edge of an examination table while Elandor moved around him with methodical precision. Measuring crystals were placed against his chest, spine, and temples. Thin needles drew small samples of blood that were then mixed with reagent solutions and observed under soft magical light. Runes of assessment were drawn in the air and allowed to sink into Harlan’s skin, mapping the latent pathways that had never properly opened.

Elandor recorded every result in a fresh section of his journal.

The physical readings were promising. Muscle density, bone resilience, and circulatory strength all exceeded Cael’s by a significant margin. The latent magical potential, though dormant, registered more clearly than it had in any previous non-awakened subject. The bloodline was present. The vessel was stronger.

Still, Elandor felt the weight of the choice with every notation he made.

He had refused this request for years. He had watched his nephew grow into a capable soldier while the rest of their line perished. He had told himself that preserving the last of the blood was more important than risking it on incomplete work. Now the situation had changed. The rebellion needed power. The process, while flawed, had produced a living core once. And Harlan was the best candidate he was likely to receive.

Elandor set the final crystal aside and looked at his nephew.

"The preliminary assessments are acceptable," he said. "We will proceed with conditioning over the next several days. Strengthening the channels. Preparing the body to receive the core. If at any point the readings turn against us, we stop. You will not argue."

Harlan nodded. "I understand."

Elandor turned back to his notes, already calculating dosages and sequences. In the corner of the laboratory, Cael still lay under heavy suppression wards, breathing shallowly.

The old mage told himself this time would be different. This vessel was stronger, and he would not fail this time, not when he was gambling with the risk of ending his bloodline.