Years ago, when my mother, Arieste, was alive, Daramveer was breathtaking. The stone castle soared above everything, surrounded by mountains that once felt like a shield. Now, those mountains feel like a prison, confining everyone under my father’s dreadful reign. Flowers as deep blue as the ocean and rich purples once shaded the castle and town. The way the flowers overgrew made it seem as if they spread over Daramveer like a plague. The shimmering halls flickered in candlelight, the haunting melodies leaving you both whole and tormented.
The House of Hedro has always been renowned for its beauty—both in its structure and the women within. The sun shimmers off the side of the stark white tower, resembling diamonds embedded in its walls. People would travel from all over to seek healing from the workers inside—if they could survive the journey. Others simply visited to admire its beauty.
Though the healers don’t live in the tower, many spend so much time there that it might as well be their home. Maines’s family lives close to the castle—my father built Elrod the most beautiful house in Daramveer after his wife left. She died a few years later. We were twelve when she succumbed to an illness. That’s one reason Maines was so remarkable when my own mother passed—she had faced the same horrors I was enduring. Her mother’s death sparked her interest in healing at a young age—she wanted to learn how to save people from terriblediseases. When she couldn’t save Barlowe, I noticed the light in her dim, but I know it will gradually return.
As we enter the iron gates of the House, the guards give Maines a passing glance. Oak’s mouth falls open as we approach the pillars—towering over us as if we are just specks in the world.
“Okay, you two. Since we can’t stay more than a few hours, we have a lot of ground to cover. The library is in the basement. I doubt many healers will be down there at this time, but if they are, please keep your eyes to yourself. They are studying to save people’s lives, and they take it seriously.”
I’m in awe watching Maines transition from her loud, funny self to Daramveer's top healer. She gives Oak a warning look. “Follow me and keep your hands to yourself, Oak.”
He smirks.
We enter through a back door that leads directly into the basement. The dimly lit hallway feels cold and damp. We descend a winding staircase, which opens into a vast room. Books line the walls from floor to ceiling, and scrolls clutter most of the desks scattered throughout the room—the scent of dust and paper overwhelms my senses.
“Where the hell do we start?” Oak whispers.
Maines rolls her eyes and points. “The ancient texts are typically in this section.”
My gaze follows her hand to the back section of the library, which looks even dustier than the hallway. She turns on her heels, whipping her hair into Oak’s face. I snort a laugh and follow quickly behind.
“We'd better get started,” she says, setting a few in front of Oak, who flinches as they hit the wood. “We only have a few hours to read everything we can in here.”
Sitting next to her, I grab the closest book. Rigils line the pages, which I’ve seen often throughout my life when I studied as a young Wielder. My mother often practiced drawing these forher healing rituals—various circles and triangles can be used for different rituals to call upon the Great Wiitches.
After hours of unsuccessful research, I peel my eyes away from the words, glancing around the room. My eyes sting in the dim lighting, and my neck aches from my curved spine. Oak’s head rests on the table, his glasses twisted around his eyes. I hear his slow breaths. He’s asleep.
Maines notices as well, kicking his leg under the table. His head shoots up, immediately throwing Maines a vulgar gesture before smiling.
She softly giggles, returning her gaze to the text.
Stretching, Oak stands, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He grabs a new book from a nearby shelf, fixing his glasses before flipping through it. He casually shuffles back to our table.
Oak shouts, “Holy shit, I found something!”
A shushing sound emanates from deep within the library, causing him to flinch, feeling embarrassed.
“Look at this,” he continues in a whisper, making his way back to the table near Maines’s back. “It’s the marking you showed me in your room.”
I snatch the book and focus on the page. The words surrounding the marking are in a language I don’t understand. “Can you read this?” I ask.
He leans forward, placing both arms on opposite sides of Maines. His large body towers over her. Her face flushes, as she pretends to concentrate on the words. Growing impatient, I begin tapping my foot on the floor, earning a grin from Maines. She motions me to stop.
“I’m not sure I’m reading this correctly,” Oak says. “It’s not very translatable in our language today, but I think it says, ‘Those who walk in the darkest realms aren’t always lost.’”
“Are you sure?” I snap, annoyance bubbling in my throat.
Oak shrugs. “I’m almost positive, but it doesn’t make much sense. It’s not easy to translate.”
I rush back to where he found the book, snatching two others and sprinting back to the table. The books fall from my arms. “Fuck!”
Maines slowly pushes away from the table. “What is that?”
I look down at my feet, and my face pales.
A perfectly folded letter peeks out from one of the books. Kneeling, I feel my hope rise as a thought flickers in my mind—it’s from my mother. I nervously unfold the paper and quickly scan the text. My shoulders slump as I realize it’s nothing more than an old note, likely left by a healer from years past.
Defeat rises in my chest as I gather the books and shuffle back to the table.
