"Not dead," I say carefully. "Just trapped."
The guilt hits harder than I expected. Sera was one of my closest contacts before Grimrose, a journalist who'd helped me expose three corrupt Council officials over the years. I'd vanished on her without warning, without explanation. She deserved better than that.
"Trapped where?"
"Grimrose Academy."
The silence on the other end is deafening. Then, "The rejected Magila prison? Ambrose, what the hell?"
"It's a long story." I glance at the contract I've prepared for her. "But I need your help. There's something happening here that the Council doesn't want anyone to know about, and I need a witness. Someone who can get the truth out."
"What kind of truth?"
"The kind that could change everything," I say. "But it'll cost you to walk away. The Council won't be happy when this goes public."
Another pause. "You're serious."
"Dead serious."
"Alright," she says finally. "I'm in. When and where?"
I seal the first contract with a drop of blood, feeling the warmth drain from my body immediately. The cold seeps in, settling into my bones. It's uncomfortable, but bearable.
One down. Several more to go.
By the time dawn approaches and I seal the final deal, exhaustion weighs heavy on my bones. But the web is woven. The journalists will come. The truth will be broadcast. And maybe, just maybe, we can actually change things.
Because Stellan is worth it. They're all worth it.
As I stare at the sealed bargains glowing faintly on my desk, I allow myself a moment of hope. My nature can see the paths branching before us. Some lead to triumph, others to tragedy.
But for the first time in years, I'm not just surviving. I'm fighting. I'm using my power not to make myself small and hidden, but to protect people I love.
And that feels right in a way nothing else ever has.
9
SKYE
Theweightofwhatwe're planning sits heavy on my chest as I lie in bed that night, unable to sleep. The marks on my arm glow faintly, the varying states of wakefulness of my five mates rippling through the bond.
Stellan is restless, dreams troubled by fire and fear. Jade feeds idly on ambient emotions, a soothing activity for him that I sense through our connection. Harlow is half-phased into the death realm, his natural state when he sleeps. Rumi paces somewhere, his divine power too agitated for rest. And Ambrose is still awake, still working on gathering support for our public demonstration.
In three days, we're going to challenge the Council openly. In three days, Stellan will either prove his control in front of the entire Magila world, or he'll be made an example of.
Either way, our lives will never be the same.
I need answers and guidance. I need to understand what Mother Nature expects from me, from all of them.
I slip out of bed carefully, pulling on clothes in the dark. The bond marks pulse warmer as I move, like they're responding to my distress. When I step into the hallway, the corridor is empty and dark. Most students are asleep, and the enforcers don't patrol this area heavily at night.
I make my way through passages that most people can't see, around corners that don't exist for anyone else, until I reach the sealed door to Mother Nature's chamber. My hand presses against the stone, and I whisper, "Please. I need you."
The stone melts away under my touch, responding to my Praestes authority, and I step into the chamber that exists between worlds.
The Tree of Life stands at the center, ancient and eternal, its branches heavy with leaves that shimmer with every color imaginable. Each leaf represents a different type of essence, I realize now, infinite possibilities and infinite expressions of her gift. The Book of Old rests at the tree's base, pulsing with dangerous knowledge.
Mother Nature materializes from the essence-heavy air like mist taking form. She settles onto the throne of living roots I remember from my previous visits, her moss-green hair cascading over moonlight robes, gold eyes ancient and knowing. She appears as she always does, ageless and eternal, beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with human standards.
