“It is as the gods willed. I cannot help. The decision was yours to make years ago.”
“Please, Mag.”
I searched her face, desperate for the smallest sign of softness, some flicker of change. But she remained immovable. Offering nothing.
With a sigh, I turned and walked back to Caz, my strength worn thin.
“Sleep well, child of ravens,” Mag’s voice called after me distantly.
Caz lay on the cot,eyes half-lidded, already slipping toward sleep. When he heard me settle onto the stool, his eyelids fluttered open, and he greeted me softly, “Odessa.”
“Here,” I said, offering him a spoonful of the white liquid. “It’s meant to ease the pain. Mag’s preparing a tincture for your palm. She said it should be ready in a day, maybe two.”
Caz took it carefully, nodding his thanks. “I studied at the healer’s keep at the Academy for a semester. I wasn’t any good at it, which is why I didn’t make it my concentration. I couldn’t stomach it. The students there... they’re made for it. They see life, healing, and death as one long cycle. Their tools are their minds… their will and skill. Me? I’ve only got a pen, paper, and a spool of metal thread.”
“There’s more to you than just that,” I said. “I think under different circumstances, you’d agree.”
“I know.” He sighed. “I just have a lot of admiration for folk like Mag.”
“Mm,” I murmured, still carrying the weight of how my conversation with her ended.
“Can I ask you something?” Caz asked.
“Yes?” I met his gaze.
“How did Mag know I was a scholar? You said most folk around here wouldn’t even recognize one, let alone identify our uniform and emblem.”
I sighed. “Mag is... unusual,” I said, giving Caz a resigned look. “Like I mentioned, I’ve only crossed paths with her once. There’s a lot I don’t know about her, what secrets she keeps, what she’s hiding.” My gaze drifted to my hands resting in my lap. “She guards those secrets carefully, and I don’t think anyone really knows what’s in her past, or what she’s hiding beneath the surface.”
“I see,” Caz murmured, his voice starting to slur. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said I’ve got a lot to learn about Brier Len.” Herubbed his temple, sinking deeper into the cot as his eyelids drooped. His speech slowed, thick with sleep, and a small, drowsy smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks... for looking out for me, Odessa. Even if I can’t finish my assignment here... I’m still glad I met you. Lost tools and all.”
His eyes finally closed, his breathing turning soft and steady. The syrup of poppy must’ve taken hold. Caz looked completely at ease, almost peaceful. I let myself study him for a moment. The way his golden hair fell across his brow, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks. He curled into the cot like someone who had long since forgotten the weight of the world.
But as I stood there with him, that familiar dark sensation crept back, pulling at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight it off, but this place, the shop, Brier Len, all of it, always brought it to the surface. Moving quickly but quietly, I stepped closer and adjusted the blanket around Caz.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered. “Rest now.”
I threw my cloak over my shoulders and tugged the hood up, hiding my face. As I stepped out of the infirmary, I cast a quick glance down the hallway. The door to Mag’s room was shut tight. The apothecary felt unnervingly still, as if the silence of the night had slipped inside and made itself at home. After chimes in Mag’s shop, darkness had finally fallen.
I moved cautiously, staying alert for any sign of Seraph, hoping to stay unseen.
Moments later, I stood at the front of the shop. The once-bright hearth now flickered weakly, its embers barely glowing. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the chaos inside me. The dark presence began to swell, sharper, more urgent, and I let it slip from my control just a fraction. The moment I did, the weight of it nearly shattered me.
I loosened my resistance again, and the storm inside eased into a steady drizzle.
My cheeks grew wet and slick. My breaths came heavy.
And with one last glance toward the infirmary, I turned to the door and fled into the night.
20
It happened again.
And this time, I willed it to happen.
Whenever I surrendered to that feeling, to the dark pull rising inside me, I could only ever recall fragments of what followed. Everything broke into flashes. Bits of what I did, what I felt, what I saw. No matter how hard I tried, I remembered only fleeting moments.
Tonight was no different.
