The doors to the dining room swung open, and Sir Karst and Sir Regis entered, gripping two women by the arm. I couldn’t tell who they were, only that one was tall and thin, the other shorter and frail. Burlap sacks covered their heads, masking their faces. The only clues I could find about their identities lay in their clothing. Both wore simple dresses with frock aprons. Then my eyes dropped to their hands, bound in chains. One pair was noticeably younger than the other.
“What’s the meaning of this?” I asked Gadriel. “More stewardesses?”
“Not quite.” He smiled coolly as he spoke, gesturing for the knights to step closer. “I brought them to you, Odessa, as a courtesy. You must understand, everything I do is for the sake of the kingdom, for the folk of Hyrall. And the sacrifices ahead, well, they’re simply the price of progress.”
“What are you saying? Why are they here?”
Gadriel began to move towards me and that unmistakable pressure came with him. He had to be carrying another piece of the stone. My chest ached, air becoming shallower with every step he took. He didn’t stop until he stood directly behind me, one hand resting on the back of my chair, the other settling on my shoulder.
Leaning down, his voice brushed my ear. “The least I could do is let you say goodbye.”
My eyes flickered with alarm, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what came next. Sir Karst stepped forward and yanked the burlap sack from the first woman’s head. The moment I saw her, it felt as though a stone had dropped onto my chest.
“Mag,” I breathed.
Bruises lined her collarbones, and a dark blotch spread beneath herleft eye. Her hair clung wildly to her face, still tousled from the sack. And yet, when her eyes found mine, there was no shock, no flicker of surprise. She looked just as she had the last time I saw her in her apothecary. That felt like lifetimes ago.
“The time has come, hasn’t it, little one?” she rasped, expression as severe as ever. Not a trace of fear marked her face. “The third crossing.”
I faintly remembered Mag’s parting words in the apothecary years ago: “We’ll only cross paths once more, little one.”
I summoned what little strength I had to turn my head, just enough to catch a glimpse of Gadriel’s face.
“Let her go,” I ground out. “She has nothing to do with this.”
Gadriel clicked his tongue. “You’re mistaken, Odessa. This woman stands accused of multiple crimes against the kingdom. After a thorough investigation and several inquisitions, the charges were confirmed. As with all who defy the law, she will face justice. Just as any citizen must.”
“What could she have possibly done?” I demanded.
“What’s ahead can be endured, little one,” Mag’s voice rang out. “A greater power is at work, far more dangerous than you know. The stone can only?—”
“Silence her,” Gadriel cut in.
Sir Karst stepped forward and kicked the back of Mag’s leg. The older woman dropped to her knees with a sharp cry. But before she could speak again, the knight forced a cloth into her mouth and tied it fast.
Gadriel’s voice hardened. “Take her away. Now.”
Karst pulled Mag upright and dragged her toward the door. She didn’t speak, didn’t fight. The elderly woman I’d known in Brier Len didn’t seem afraid. She moved with a stillness that wasn’t defeat. It was something stronger. And I knew, even then, it was the last time we’d speak. So I tried to move, to reach out for her, but my body wouldn’t obey.
“There’s not much time left,” Gadriel muttered, the hand resting on my shoulder tightening, his fingers digging in. “Now, Regis.”
The other knight stepped forward, dragging the second woman with him. The woman stumbled, almost tripping, and he tore the sack from her head.
The sight of her stopped everything inside me. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Mother,” I gasped.
Her face was so familiar, so close, that it made my chest cave in. I hadn’t seen her in over a year, but she looked just as I remembered, just as I’d dreamed on restless nights. Her obsidian eyes were clouded, but her raven hair still caught the light. There were no bruises, not like Mag, but she was so thin, so fragile, I couldn’t understand how she was still standing.
Something cracked open in me. All the burden I thought I could carry came rushing back. The guilt for abandoning her. For not checking in. For not making sure she was safe. Had my father hurt her while I was taken? But then I remembered, he wasn’t really my father, was he?
Had my mother met Wrath, carried me in her belly, and then married another man just to protect us both?
My face crumpled as my mouth trembled. And I knew the truth of it, I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was. All the courage, all the pride, it was armor. The kind worn when there’s a breaking underneath. The ground below me was already fractured, and I’d filled it with anger, with violence, with anything that would keep me standing.
So why now? Why was it all falling apart?
This was what it meant to be human. To carry the weight of love and loss, guilt and doubt. More than anything, I wished I were back in Torhiel, where everything was exact and defined. Where only bargains and my ossiraen mattered. Where choices were clear. Not buried in all these shades of gray.
