Page 6 of The Reaping Rose

“You know I need to do this,” I say, turning my attention to my blade. “My magic got us to Alyssium when it shouldn’t have been possible, so who knows what else it can do if I can learn how to access it. If there’s a chance my mother understands my magic, finding her is our only hope.”

“Just because you wield celestial magic doesn’t mean your mother did. She might not have the answers you’re looking for.”

“Or she might have exactly what I’m looking for,” I argue. “We won’t know until we try.”

“Do you really think the prison will lead you to your mother?” The scrape of metal almost drowns out his question.

I shrug. “The walls led me to Wilder. I have to trust that the fates will lead me where I need to go again.”

“I never believed the rumors.” Sparks from his blade dance with mine. “When the humans said the prison led them to the cells of the dead so they could collect them, I always thought it was magic messing with their minds while they were inside. I didn’t realize there was truth to it.”

“I didn’t believe it until I witnessed it myself. It’s… unnerving.” I shiver at the memory of the prison guiding me where it wanted me to go as if it were sentient. “I don’t know how it’s possible. But it changed my path. It moved its walls. The prison knew what I was looking for when even I didn’t. What kind of spells create a place like that? It’s as if it has a mind of its own.”

Callum sighs. “I don’t know. The magic used during the prison’s creation was not recorded for a reason.”

“So Fae couldn’t find ways to break others out?” It’s a whisper, and Callum nods.

My eyes lift to the spires, peeking above the trees. Obsidian pillars cast shadows farther than they should reach. A place of both nothing and all things. A place with a heartbeat that whispers to me.

“I could go with you⁠—”

“No.” I shake my head, stopping Callum’s thought in its tracks. “My blood is half-human, barely enough to trick the prison into letting me out the first time. We don’t know what it will decide when I go back in, but with you, there’s no question. If you go in there, you’ll never leave. I have to do this alone.”

Especially when I don’t know what I’ll find.

The only person who knew my mother’s true identity was my father, and he never spoke of her after he carried me from those walls at birth. Whoever she is and whatever she’s done, I can’t risk my friends’ lives figuring it out.

He frowns but thankfully doesn’t argue. “When are you going in?”

“Tomorrow.” I nod once, certain, when nothing feels that way. “So I guess we have one last night.”

“One last night for what?”

I sheath my daggers, mustering a smile. “To celebrate still being alive.”

Callum’s eyes narrow, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth has my grin widening. “You’re not going to die in there, Elorie.”

“I know.”

I don’t, but if I stop believing that, I don’t stand a chance.

“Look at you two handling weapons and managing to keep them off each other’s throats.” Greer stops in front of us, wearing skintight black leathers that draw out the silver flecks in her gray eyes. “I see we’re making progress.”

“We’ve come to an understanding.” I grin, and Callum chuckles.

He shakes his head, glancing at Greer. “You were awake early this morning. I was going to see if you wanted to join me when I went out hunting, but I couldn’t find you.”

“As if any of us gets sleep anymore.” Her eyes dart away.

The four of us have been sharing Letia’s home for months, so there’s no hiding that not one of us sleeps well. Callum is up late into the night, his eyes on the fire every time I walk past the cot he set up in the main room. Greer sits at the window more often than not, while I fill journals well into morning.

Letia is the only one who stays in her room, but the floorboards creak as she wanders back and forth, telling me she’s awake well into the night.

There are more demons than people in that house. The dark circles beneath our eyes are proof of it.

“I was busy this morning anyway,” Greer continues. “I took a walk around the perimeter to see how the gates are holding up with the storms. There are two new sections of fence that need to be replaced.”

“We’re out of wood to replace them.” I frown at the scraps that were once a heap of branches.