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Tulip nods and stands, going to her pack to pull out a fresh shirt. "Ah shit, wrong pack," she says quietly when she pulls out one of Viola's shirts. She moves to place it back, but her hand freezes before she can. "Mace," she says quietly, squatting beside the pack and dumping the contents on the ground. "Look at this."
I move beside Tulip and peer at its contents, rubbing the space between my brows. "I'm not sure what I'm looking at," I say.
"No blades. All three are gone."
"Wouldn't she take all three while hunting?" I ask, something foreign and poisonous churning in my gut.
"No. The third was the backup to her backup. She always kept it stored just in case." Tulip's voice is quiet like she doesn't want Morrowand Plume to overhear us, but I can still sense the tremor of fear within it.
My mind starts to spin with all the possibilities, searching for any logical reason Viola would be gone upon waking up. "That doesn't mean anything," I say, more to convince myself than to Tulip.
"Her whip is gone, too," she says, even quieter than before.
That is what startles me. Viola's whip has no real use for her in hunting, and she's rarely brought it out since we began traveling. Why would she have it with her now?
Morrow and Plume have noticed our hushed whispers and stand in front of us, staring at the contents of the pack with confused faces. Tulip points out the missing weapons and the remaining journals and clothing.
"What does this mean, Mace?" Tulip asks, looking at me with watery blue eyes.
"She's gone," Morrow says, bitterness lacing his voice. "It means that the Shadowweaver left us." With swiftness, he stalks away from the pack and engulfs a nearby patch of vegetation in flame. Fury radiates off him, and with it, my mind spins with memories of all the times Morrow pledged his allegiance to Viola. "How could she do this to us?" he bellows, "We trusted her! We believed in her! She was supposed to be different."
Did she betray us?
I begin to spiral, lost in the fear and worry that Viola has abandoned us. "How? How would she have left us?" I scan the horizon again, a pitiful hope that she would appear as a smudgeupon it, signaling she's finding her way back to me.
Morrow contains his flames, panting heavily as he walks back to us. If it were possible, I'd swear that his ears were smoking. The four of us stand there quietly, and my brain turns over every possibility of why Viola would have left us. Silent tears fall down Plume's face, her hand pressed over her mouth as she shakes her head in disbelief.
Viola is gone.
But I just can't believe she would choose to abandon us and not return. She was as dedicated to this cause as any of us, even if hers initially stemmed from obligation rather than pure belief.
As my fear ratches up, my magic curls through my veins, begging to be released. My fists clench, nails cutting half moons into the soft flesh of my palms. Would Viola leave me? After everything we told each other, the way we feel for one another, would she really just leave me?
Going off on her own is a risk that even someone as cocksure as her wouldn't be stupid enough to take.
She was taking some risks, sure, but every move she made was for the ultimate goal of cleansing Krillium of Himureal's influence.
It seems so obvious when it hits me that it feels like a brick to the face. I don't know how I didn't see it before. My fury at the realization lights the magic in my veins, and I release a bolt of lightning far from our campsite. My friends look at me with stricken faces. It's not like me to lose control of my emotions so much that I need to expend some magic, but here I am. I run my hands down my face, scrubbing it hard tohide the fear-induced groan that leaves my mouth.
"The shadow visions. Himureal took her."
We stayed an entire day at the makeshift campsite, hoping that Viola would appear no worse for the wear to explain herself. When she didn't, I directed everyone to begin packing up their things.
"We're going to Feria," I say to my companions. "We're finding that seed."
"What's the point?" Morrow asks, his hands clenched into fists. "Why bother if we've lost the Shadowweaver?"
"She'll come back to us," Tulip says, placing a small hand on Morrow's forearm. "I believe she'll find us."
"She'll come looking for us in Feria. She'll know to find us there." My words hold more conviction than my heart, but I am working hard to convince myself of their veracity.
Viola Mistflow may have entered a shadow vision without talking to the rest of us, but she would never abandon us here on our own. I believe she wouldn't do it to me, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt she wouldn't do that to Tulip.
She wouldn't leave Tulip alone on purpose.
"The plan doesn't change," I say with more force. "We find the journal and the artifact, and we hold onto them until we find Viola." I pin Morrow with a glare. "And we will find Viola. Or she will find us."My tone brokers no argument, remnants of Mace the Patrician bleeding into my tone.
"Whatever you say, Nightroot," he grumbles, throwing his pack over his shoulder.
