Chapter 5: The Origin of Bloodborn

Nathan's eyes were nearly bugging out of his head. "Wren! Have you been mainlining web serials or something? What is this crackpot nonsense? A bloodborn world and a human magus world? Most humans have bloodborn genes? What's next—the League of Kindred and a Human Practitioner Council?"

Wren answered, perfectly serious: "There is the League of Kindred, actually. But the Commonwealth's Concord doesn't recognize its standing—by scale, the Concord is the biggest bloodborn organization in the world. There's no Human Practitioner Council, though. Europe has something similar called the Candlelight League—too small, members are nothing special, but they looove stirring the pot. Our Commonwealth big-shot bloodborn have been curb-stomping them for decades, and they still never learn, always coming back for another smackdown."

Nathan wore a "I officially give up" expression, but he didn't outright disbelieve her either—after last night's experience, and the changes in his own body, her words landed somewhere in the middle for him. "Leaving aside where these two theories even come from—you're presenting them like established fact—shouldn't it be the other way around? Why would humanity think they descend from the ancient bloodborn kindreds, while the bloodborn think humans have a different ancestor altogether?"

Wren snorted a laugh. "Both theories go back way too far—who knows why! These days the two schools only argue about it academically anyway; nobody seriously fights over which one's right anymore. But everyone agrees on the conclusion: human genes carry bloodborn bloodlines, and ordinary people can have bloodline awakenings and turn into bloodborn. You've awakened a bloodline yourself—you're literally the living proof, so I don't need to demonstrate anything for you, right?"

If his own body hadn't "changed," Nathan would've torn this "malarkey" apart with real fire—he was dyed-in-the-wool Darwin-brainwashed and refused to accept any other theory of human origins. But now, even wanting to argue back, he didn't have the nerve.

Wren patted Nathan on the shoulder. "All the research and data say at least a quarter of humans carry bloodborn genes, but the overwhelming majority of gene carriers live their whole lives without ever awakening, and die of old age as regular humans. Out of every ten thousand humans with bloodborn genes, only three and a half on average ever awaken. The whole world has seven-billion-plus people and only six hundred thousand-odd bloodborn—so don't worry, the world isn't crawling with us. We're still pretty rare. Oh, and the moment a bloodline wakes? The body condenses what we call a heart-seed—old alchemists would call it the seed of a philosopher's stone. That seed is the wellspring of your bond-power; the rest of you is basically plumbing around it."

Something still didn't add up for Nathan. "Hold on—shouldn't there also be bloodborn born from bloodborn parents, and bloodborn that awakened true minds? How's the bloodborn population that tiny?"

Wren snorted a laugh. "Bloodborn have been intermarrying with humans for way too many ages—the bloodline's long since diluted by human genes. Except for the Seven Great Houses, who claim pure blood, there are basically no pureblooded bloodborn left. Even when both parents are bloodborn, ninety-nine percent of their kids come out human. The ones actually born as bloodborn number only a few dozen a year—not even worth putting in the statistics."

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Another exasperation vein popped for Nathan. Against his will, his brain served up a mental image: the Minotaur and the Centaur at their wedding, the happy couple cradling a human baby in a cozy family portrait, and he couldn't suppress a shudder. Then another question surfaced. "So what about things that practice into spirits?"

Wren gave a light smile. "Since the Age of Reason, there hasn't been a single bloodborn that awakened a true mind from an animal or an object. Every bloodborn alive is born from parents. These days even bloodborn can barely birth bloodborn—forget about anything awakening all on its own."

Nathan's face went sheepish. He'd never dreamed the bloodborn world would run so contrary to everything he thought he knew—half his core assumptions were getting flipped end over end.

Wren said, grinning, "As a native of Greyhaven, now that you've awakened your bloodline, you need to get chartered ASAP and get tested to find out which bloodborn bloodline you awakened. New bloodborn registering here in Greyhaven even qualify for all kinds of benefits. I can walk you through the paperwork."

Nathan asked, startled, "Being a bloodborn comes with a charter? And benefits?"

Wren said, a touch smug: "Of course! The Commonwealth's Concord is the big leagues, top of the food chain worldwide, and the only legal political organization for bloodborn inside the Commonwealth. Every newly awakened bloodborn has to join up, and the member benefits rank number one among bloodborn organizations the whole world over."

Nathan's brain was having trouble keeping up. He just said he'd think it over, didn't ask anything more, and quietly chewed over everything he'd gotten from his chat with Wren. Before either of them noticed, they'd reached the school gates.

As they'd gotten close to the school, Wren had put some distance between them, and Nathan was too embarrassed to look too chummy with her anyway—walking to school with a girl was bad news, guaranteed to spark rumors. So they faked being barely acquainted and filed into school one after the other.

A few steps behind, watching Nathan walk into campus, Wren couldn't hold back a faint smile and murmured, just loud enough for her own ears: "Never thought he'd turn out to be my classmate. With that black light shrouding him last night, I almost didn't recognize him. But is he really my chance, like Granny Rowan said? I don't think he suits me at all."

Nathan hurried into the classroom and couldn't resist glancing toward Isolde's seat. She wasn't there yet, which left him feeling hollow. He hesitated a moment, then settled into his own seat.

Classmates filed in one after another, but right up until the bell rang, there was still no sign of Isolde. Nathan's imagination ran wild—he felt antsy as a cat on a hot tin roof, squirmy in every way, nothing about it comfortable.

When first period finally let out, Nathan sidled up to one of Isolde's closer girlfriends and asked quietly, "Where's Isolde today?"

The girl answered flatly: "She went to a performance. She already cleared the absence with the teacher."

Only then did Nathan remember: besides yesterday's comic convention, Isolde also had a manufacturer-booked expo gig. With everything that went down yesterday, he'd totally spaced on it—he'd actually planned to take the day off and tag along with her too, keep doing his bag-toting grunt work.

Just as Nathan was weighing whether to skip class and chase after them, the girl added quietly, "Too late for that now. Isolde's probably already finished performing and gone off with her team to shoot on location. It's pretty far out—no bus line goes there. The team rented cars to drive out, and they haven't fixed a destination; the plan is to drive and shoot wherever the road takes them. Even if you went, you'd never find them."

Nathan's spirits plummeted; it felt a lot like being abandoned. All he could manage was a quiet "thanks" to the girl, and he left the classroom feeling pretty down. He hadn't gotten far when someone called his name from behind.

"Nathan!"