I bet Mom would know if that’s possible.
The buddies each get a little liver treat after our play in the yard, and then I wash my hands, grab the bag of supplies Izzy dropped off last night before the ritual, and head to the workroom.
I don’t think there’s ever been a time that I’ve walked up this hall and not been in awe of the door to the Hallowind workspace.
The green door, carved with the tree of life, is just about the most quintessential representation of my mom and to what she has dedicated her life.
It’s the perfect representation of her commitment to the Goddess Mother and the gifts bestowed upon us.
And, as Asher has pointed out many times, it’s also really freaking cool.
The door is slightly ajar, letting the flicker of candlelight escape enough to dance on the hallway wall.
"Mom?"
I let myself in and take a deep breath of fresh sage and lavender. Mom is floating near her worktable, staring down at the Hallowind grimoire set open on the table.
She’s lost in thought and she's barely there.
Her edges flicker like a bad television signal, fading in and out. When she lifts her hand to turn a page, I can see straight through her palm to the wall behind.
"Mom?" My voice comes out sharper than intended.
She startles, turning. For a second, she's solid—fully opaque, bright blue eyes clear and focused. Then the effort seems to catch up with her, and she wavers again.
She manages a smile. “Sorry, petal, I didn't hear you come in."
“Because you're exhausted." I set the bag on the worktable. "Izzy brought some supplies for you last night. Shadeflower petals, spirit root, moonstone dust—everything you asked for last week."
“Oh, that's wonderful." Mom doesn't reach for the bag. She doesn't move at all, like even that would cost too much energy.
I step closer, studying her. The flickering is worse this morning. "How long have you been struggling like this?"
"Like what, love?"
I cross my arms. "Don’t do that. Don't brush off how poorly you’re doing—I can see it. You're barely holding form."
Mom's shoulders sag, and she gives me a sad smile. "It's just a rough day. I’ll rest and be better soon, you’ll see.”
I want to believe her, but in my heart of hearts, I know she’s telling me what I want to hear. “Wylder and I were talking about his mom the other morning. He’s just as worried about her as I am about you.”
She shakes her head. “There’s no need to worry, Poppy, truly. You’ve got enough on your mind without my well-being weighing on you.”
I pull a breath deep into my lungs. “But your well-beingisweighing on me, Mom. We’re not intended to be here past our death. You anchored yourself to the property, but it’s wearing on you.”
She lifts her chin. “I told you I’m not going anywhere until your sisters are back and this mess with Tharuzel and the blood contract are taken care of. It’s my fault the bloodline is marked. I won’t leave you to suffer for it.”
I move around the table, wishing I could grab her hands, ground her somehow. “But you hurting yourself by staying here is hurting me, too. Spirits need to recede. To rest with the ancestors."
“But you need me.” Her words crack. “You’re not prepared for your future. There’s so much I haven’t had the chance to teach you.”
Tears blur my vision, and I swipe my sleeve across my eyes. “Yes, I need you. I need you at peace. I need you strong and thriving. It’s killing me to watch you fade away day after day. You need to rest.”
“What’s that saying? I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
“Youaredead, Mom.”
She smiles. “I’m aware, Poppy. That was a joke.”
