Morning arrived with the irritating brightness that only nature can achieve when you've had insufficient sleep.

  I'd spent most of the night poring over old family journals, searching for any reference to our supposed "abilities." Most yielded nothing but tedious accounts of crop yields and petty noble squabbles, but in my grandfather's private diary, I found scattered references to "the family gift" and "walking the hidden roads"—frustratingly vague, but confirmation that whatever was happening to me wasn't unprecedented.

  Willem entered without knocking, a habit born from decades of service that I'd long since stopped trying to correct.

  "They're here," he announced, voice neutral but eyes broadcasting his unease.

  "The Sisters?" I glanced toward the window. The sun had barely cleared the eastern hills. "I wasn't expecting them until midday."

  "Arrived in that." Willem nodded toward the window.

  I looked out to see an unremarkable conveyance parked in the courtyard—a modest carriage of aged but well-maintained construction. Its only unusual feature was the subdued insignia on the door: the same crescent moon embracing a star that marked the Twilight Covenant's headquarters.

  "No fanfare, at least," I observed, reaching for my coat. "Let's greet our new... associates."

  "Your mother is already attending to them." Willem's weathered face creased with something between amusement and concern. "Most hospitably."

  That was unexpected. Given her initial resistance to the Covenant, I'd anticipated at least some lingering friction. I hurried downstairs, adjusting my collar to conceal the faint blue traces that still occasionally shimmered beneath my skin under certain light.

  I found them in the main hall—all three Sisters arranged in a loose semicircle around my mother, who was speaking with animation I rarely witnessed outside of negotiations with particularly important nobles. She wore her emerald signet ring, something she brought out only for significant occasions.

  "—and of course the eastern wing hasn't been properly renovated since my husband's time," she was saying as I entered. "But the proximity to the old foundations made it seem the sensible choice for your accommodations."

  Sister Morgana noticed me first, her amber eyes calculating as always. "Lord Greywers. There's a seventy-eight percent chance you slept poorly, and a ninety-two percent probability you've been researching your family history."

  I bowed slightly, annoyed by her accuracy. "Sister Morgana. Your talent for probability assessment remains unnerving."

  "Statistical analysis, not magic," she corrected, though her silver crescent tattoo glimmered briefly as she spoke. "Your appearance suggests fatigue, and your mother mentioned family journals. The correlation was obvious."

  Mother turned, composure perfect as always, though I detected unusual tension in her shoulders. "Magius. I've been acquainting the Sisters with our household arrangements. They'll be occupying the east guest quarters during their stay."

  "The east wing?" I raised an eyebrow. Those rooms had been closed for years, ostensibly to save on heating costs, though I'd recently discovered they sat directly above a particularly strong convergence of the currents I now sensed throughout the keep.

  "Most appropriate, given the circumstances," Mother said with pointed emphasis. "Administrator Thorne was quite specific about their requirements."

  Sister Circe drifted forward, her eyes shifting through colors like oil on water. "Oh, the energy down there is just lovely—all swirly and bright! Your mother's got excellent taste, considering she probably can't see any of it. Can you see it yet? The blue threads under the floorboards?"

  The botanical patterns on her hands seemed more pronounced today, leafy designs spiraling up her wrists and disappearing beneath her modified habit. I noticed she'd already sampled at least one of her concoctions—pupils slightly dilated, movements possessing that distinctive dreamlike quality I remembered from our previous encounter.

  "We should begin preparations for departure within two days," Sister Hekate added, her formal speech now modulated to sound less archaic, though still precise. "The journey allows necessary time to establish appropriate dynamics for our public presentation."

  "Public presentation?" I echoed.

  "Your entourage requires a convincing narrative," Mother explained, as though this should have been obvious. "The Sisters will present as specialized healers retained due to your recent injury—quite reasonable given your imminent court appearance and the importance of appearing at full strength."

  The ease with which she discussed this charade made me increasingly suspicious. "You seem remarkably comfortable with this arrangement for someone who initially opposed involving the Covenant at all."

  A flash of something—guilt? resignation?—crossed her features before the familiar mask of noble composure returned. "Circumstances change, as do appropriate responses to them. The Twilight Covenant offers protection that aligns with our current interests."

  "Our interests," I repeated. "Or interests you've never shared with me?"

  "Perhaps this conversation would be better continued in private," Mother suggested, with a meaningful glance toward the Sisters.

  "On the contrary," Sister Morgana interjected, "there's an eighty-four percent probability that family transparency would improve Lord Greywers' adaptation to his emerging condition."

  Mother's eyes narrowed slightly. "And a one hundred percent certainty that family matters remain family matters, Sister Morgana."

  The standoff might have continued had Willem not cleared his throat from the doorway. "My lord, the staff awaits direction regarding preparations for the journey."

  I seized the opportunity to postpone what promised to be an uncomfortable confrontation. "We'll discuss arrangements after I've spoken with the Sisters. Please ensure my travel clothing is prepared."

  Mother nodded, tension easing from her shoulders. "We'll continue our discussion later." She touched the emerald signet meaningfully. "There are matters of inheritance that require proper context."

  With that cryptic statement, she withdrew to oversee preparations, leaving me alone with the Sisters.

  "Your mother carries old knowledge," Sister Hekate observed once she was out of earshot. "The emerald she wears bears the marks of ancient crafting—a focus stone for guiding energies."

  "A family heirloom," I said dismissively, though I'd always wondered why she guarded that particular ring so carefully when other, seemingly more valuable pieces had been sold during our financial decline.

  "Heirlooms often have the best stories!" Sister Circe twirled in place, making her pockets jingle with their mysterious contents. "That ring practically sings when she moves her hand. Can't you hear it? No, probably not yet. You're still tuning in, like an instrument being tightened."

  "I'm beginning to think everyone knows more about my family than I do," I muttered, adjusting my sword belt. "A situation I intend to remedy."

  Sister Morgana's mouth curved in what might have been a smile on someone capable of genuine amusement. "Knowledge arrives precisely when probability favors its optimal utilization."

  "Was that supposed to be comforting?"

  "Accurate, not comforting," she replied. "The two rarely coincide."

  ***

  Later that evening, I met with the Sisters in the eastern wing to discuss the journey ahead. The rooms had been hastily prepared, though years of disuse had left them with a lingering mustiness that no amount of cleaning could fully dispel. What struck me most, however, was how the furniture had been rearranged—not for comfort or aesthetics, but in patterns that somehow reflected the invisible currents I could now sense flowing beneath the floorboards.

  "Your awareness grows stronger," Sister Hekate observed as I paused at the threshold, my eyes tracing the flow of energy that seemed to pool in certain corners of the room.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Is it that obvious?"

  "To those who know what to look for." She gestured to a chair positioned directly above what felt like a particularly strong current. "Please, be seated."

  The Twilight Covenant's carriage had been unloaded, its contents distributed throughout the rooms. I recognized elements of their individual workspaces from my previous encounters—Morgana's probability-calculating devices, Circe's alchemical supplies, and Hekate's collection of peculiar tokens and implements.

  "Your carriage is... comprehensive," I observed, settling into the designated chair and immediately feeling a subtle vibration through the soles of my feet.

  "Mobile operations require efficient design," Sister Morgana explained, arranging what appeared to be a miniature version of her probability-tracking board on a nearby table. "Our conveyance allows for ninety-three percent of our standard capabilities while traveling."

  "Plus, it's so much cozier than those stuffy Phoenix carriages!" Sister Circe added, arranging various vials in a padded case. "They're all gold filigree and nowhere to properly store volatiles. Had a colleague whose entire batch of stabilizing serums exploded when their carriage hit a pothole—turned the driver's hair permanently purple!"

  I watched as they established themselves with the efficiency of those accustomed to frequent relocation. "I'm beginning to think the Covenant has been planning this arrangement for some time."

  "Planning? Pfffft!" Sister Circe laughed, fingers dancing over her collection of vials like she was playing an invisible instrument. "We just float along the currents of possibility. Though I did have a dream about you three weeks ago—all blue patterns and ancient roads. Funny how these things happen, isn't it?"

  "Including the eventuality of my bloodline awakening?"

  "Among others." Sister Morgana didn't look up from her calculations. "The blue serum was a statistical anomaly—an accelerant rather than a catalyst. Your abilities would have manifested eventually, though perhaps more gradually."

  I thought back to occasional moments throughout my life that suddenly made more sense—inexplicable certainty about which path to take when hunting, the uncanny ability to find water sources during military campaigns, the strange dreams of glowing roads that had plagued me since childhood.

  "These abilities," I said carefully, "what exactly should I expect?"

  The Sisters exchanged glances in a silent communication that suggested this question had been anticipated.

  "Initial manifestations typically involve perception rather than manipulation," Sister Hekate said after a moment. "Awareness of energy currents, sensitivity to convergence points, occasional glimpses of the paths others cannot see."

  "Next comes the fun part!" Sister Circe interjected, her eyes shifting to a vibrant purple as she uncorked a small vial and inhaled deeply. "You'll start feeling the currents pulling at you—like music you can touch. Sometimes your hands will glow if you're not careful. Had a patient once who lit up like a festival lantern whenever he walked over a convergence point. Terrified his poor wife!"

  "Full manifestation would include the ability to open temporary pathways between distant points," Sister Morgana finished. "Though the probability of reaching such advanced capabilities without formal training is approximately twelve percent."

  "That training being something you're prepared to provide, I assume."

  "Within limits," Sister Morgana confirmed. "The Covenant maintains records of traditional methodologies, but practical application requires direct experience."

  "In other words, learn by doing." I rubbed the spot where the blue patterns had been brightest. "With you three monitoring for disasters."

  "We prefer 'guiding potential outcomes toward optimal manifestation,'" Sister Circe said with a giggle, her attention momentarily captured by dust motes dancing in a sunbeam. "Though really, we're just making sure you don't accidentally turn yourself inside out or get stuck between pathways. Both surprisingly easy to do if you're not paying attention!"

  I found myself pacing the room, following the invisible currents as they twisted beneath the floorboards. "And these pathways, what exactly are they?"

  "Names vary by tradition," Sister Hekate replied. "Ley lines. Dragon paths. Earth currents. In essence, they are natural channels through which magical energy flows, connecting points of power across the landscape."

  "The boring healers just stab holes in them and suck out the pretty colors," Sister Circe added with a dramatic pout, twirling a vial between her fingers. "Like drinking wine through a hole in the barrel instead of pouring it properly into a glass. No reverence for the art of it! No wonder everything's drying up."

  "Which is why they're facing shortages," I concluded, remembering the hints dropped by both Hekate and my mother. "They're depleting resources faster than they replenish."

  "Precisely." Sister Morgana's expression darkened slightly. "Our models project complete depletion of primary commercial wells within fifteen years at current consumption rates. Secondary sources within twenty-three years. The probability of industry collapse without alternative methodologies stands at ninety-seven percent."

  "Hence the Phoenix Collective's interest in me," I said, pieces falling into place. "If I can perceive these pathways..."

  "Then you might lead them to fresh magic to drain," Sister Circe finished, suddenly serious before her attention darted to something invisible near the ceiling. "Oh! Did you see that pattern? No, of course you didn't, not yet anyway. Sorry—where was I? Right! They'd love to hook you up to their machines, map out all the currents in your head. Nasty business."

  That sounded ominous. "Is that even possible?"

  "With sufficient power and disregard for consequences," Sister Hekate's voice carried ancient weight. "It has been attempted in previous ages, always with catastrophic results. The paths resist artificial redirection."

  I thought about the Phoenix Collective's detection equipment, their urgent interest in my condition, the thinly veiled queries about "alternative energy sources" during their inspection. A picture was forming, and it wasn't a comforting one.

  "So I'm potentially valuable as a pathfinder for new wells," I summarized. "Or as a research subject to develop methods for rerouting existing currents."

  "In simplified terms, yes." Sister Morgana adjusted something on her probability board. "Though your bloodline suggests capabilities beyond mere detection. The Greywers were historically capable of actually walking the paths—physically traversing distances by following the currents."

  That caught me entirely by surprise. "Walking the paths? You mean... magical travel?"

  "Not teleportation in the conventional sense," Sister Hekate clarified. "Rather, finding the places where reality thins between currents, allowing passage along accelerated routes. Distance compressed rather than eliminated."

  "It's like slipping between the cracks in the world," Sister Circe added, spreading her fingers to mimic something opening. "One step here, another step there, and suddenly you're leagues away! Had a great-uncle who could do it—disappeared during family dinners when conversation got boring. Drove his wife absolutely mad!"

  I remembered the phrase from my grandfather's journal—"walking the hidden roads." Always, I had assumed it was metaphorical or, at best, referred to secret physical pathways through the wilderness. The idea that it might be literal movement along magical currents was both fascinating and deeply unsettling.

  "And you believe I can learn this skill?"

  "The probability varies depending on multiple factors," Sister Morgana hedged. "But your response to the serum suggests strong compatibility with traditional methods."

  The thought of the impending court appearance brought a return to more immediate concerns. "Before we depart for the capital, I need to understand exactly how we'll present ourselves at court. The nobility will question your presence, and the Phoenix Collective almost certainly has representatives in attendance."

  "We have established cover identities consistent with regulatory expectations," Sister Hekate assured me. "I shall present as a specialist in battlefield trauma recovery, Sister Morgana as an expert in complication prevention, and Sister Circe as a regenerative therapy consultant."

  "All technically accurate, if somewhat misleading," Sister Morgana added. "Our licenses are legitimate, though issued under our professional identities rather than our Covenant designations."

  That was a relief, at least. The last thing I needed was to be arrested for harboring unregistered practitioners.

  "And if questioned about your methodologies?" I pressed. "The Phoenix representatives seemed quite interested in 'unconventional treatments' during their inspection."

  "We shall provide satisfying yet ultimately uninformative responses," Sister Circe said, her grin mischievous as she winked. "I'm excellent at talking in circles until people forget what they asked me. Watch—I can go on about alchemical resonance patterns for hours without actually explaining a single thing! It's a talent."

  As our meeting concluded, Sister Morgana reached into a small pouch and produced what appeared to be a simple silver ring. "For the journey and court appearance. This will help modulate your perception. Not eliminate it entirely, but dampen the sensitivity to manageable levels."

  I accepted the ring, turning it in the light. Tiny symbols were etched along its inside surface—similar to the patterns that had marked my chest but more controlled, more deliberate.

  "We made it just for you!" Sister Circe said with evident pride, reaching out to tap the ring with a color-stained fingernail. "Well, mostly Hekate did the metalwork, but I infused it with stabilizing compounds. Should keep you from staring at empty corners and walking into walls when you're trying to impress all those stuffy nobles. Though honestly, that might make court more entertaining."

  As I slipped the ring onto my finger, I felt an immediate effect—like a door closing partway, reducing the overwhelming awareness of the powerful currents beneath the keep to a manageable background hum.

  "Better?" Sister Hekate asked.

  "Much," I admitted. "Though part of me wonders what else I'm not seeing with this damper in place."

  "All in due time," she assured me. "Learning requires moderation. Even the old bloodlines needed training to develop their gifts safely."

  I left the eastern wing with more questions than answers, but with the beginnings of a plan for navigating the complex waters ahead. Tomorrow would be spent in preparation, gathering what resources we could for the journey to court. The Sisters would continue establishing their temporary workspaces, and I would make one more attempt to extract clearer answers from my mother about our family's history.

  As I walked the darkened corridors back to my chambers, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched—not by any human observer, but by the currents themselves, as though the awakening of my bloodline had drawn the attention of forces far older than any kingdom or court.

  In three days, we would depart for the capital. The nobility would whisper, the Phoenix Collective would watch, and somewhere beneath it all, currents of power would continue to flow along channels older than the kingdom itself.

  I had acknowledged a heritage I didn't fully understand—and committed to whatever consequences that acknowledgment might bring.