“They won’t. My magic’s strong. The fact that I possess telekinetic magic and the ability to link consciousnesses with others, as well as magic from twootherkingdoms, will keep me safe, and if it doesn’t, there’s always myothermagic. No harm will come to me. I promise.”
Her breath sucked in. “Prim, youcan’tuse yourothermagic. You know that.”
I huffed. “I know, and it’s not like I actually will. I was just trying to reassure you that if it’s a life-or-death situation, I’ll be okay. But honestly, Aunty, in the previous millennia, most fae gave up hunting the Stone after a few days. In all likelihood, I’ll be by myself in the Wood for the next week or two. I’ll probably only encounter wildlings and local siltenites in the cities I pass through, and I won’t have to worry about anythingdangerous.” I elbowed her good-naturedly. “Calm down. I’ll be fine.”
“May the Goddess help me,” she muttered under her breath, but her love for me still swelled in her aura. “You always did think any obstacle could be overcome.”
I smiled impishly. “That’s because it can be, and remember, the celestial scholars were all predicting the Stone would land on our continent. That in itself gives me an advantage since I don’t have to cross any seas or oceans. It’s like the gods want me to find it.”
“Do you really think the seekerill and your book are the key to locating it?”
I shrugged. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be hedging all of my bets on that or leaving you and Timith at a time like this.” And I meant that. The rare book I’d acquired from the Isle of Song had specific instructions on how to find the Stone, something most fae didn’t have. Of course, there was no guarantee the book was correct, but at least it was a solid lead to follow.
I began to walk toward the door, and my aunt followed.
“Just promise me one thing, Prim. If Timith’s end is near, come home, even if you don’t have the Stone. He won’t want to take his last breath with you hundreds, or even thousands, of miles away from here.” Her voice caught. “Not seeing you at the end would break his heart. He’ll want to say goodbye.”
My throat bobbed, and despite trying to stuff my emotions down, my chest tightened. “I’ll be at his side if it comes to that. I won’t let him die with me gone.”
Despite my optimism and determination to see this through, her dire reminder of my uncle’s state sank in. After all, the palace healers had given my uncle only weeks to live, and there was no guarantee that course would hold. Nobody understood his sickness. For all we knew, he could die tomorrow.
My chest tightened even more as I thought of the male who had been like a father to me. Timith had gone from a robust, healthy male entirely full of life to a severely ill, emaciated, shell of a fairy. All in only a few weeks’ time. It was terrifying how quickly his illness had progressed, which meant I had to find the Stone. Death called to my uncle. At this point, finding the Stone was the only chance we had to save him.
I headed out of my childhood bedchambers into the hall. Until my uncle had fallen ill, I hadn’t lived in my aunt and uncle’s home for many full seasons. But I’d moved back the other week, after it became apparent my uncle’s mysterious ailment wasn’t a passing matter.
My own home, a small dwelling on the other side of Whiteolf, was closer to the Whiteolf Academic Library, my previous means of employment before I’d taken leave, but lately my home had merely become a storage apartment for my things. I hadn’t been back there since I’d left it.
A moment of nostalgia hit me when I remembered the day I’d been hired by the library. It’d only been six months ago, and I’d been so excited that they offered me the position that I ran to the palace, which was only several blocks from the library, totell my uncle that I’d gotten the job. Even though my aunt and uncle had always been adamant that I not bother my uncle while he was working, I hadn’t been able to help myself. But instead of scolding me for venturing to the royal palace and interrupting his day, Timith had been ecstatic for me, nearly as excited as I’d been that I’d gotten the job. He always cheered for me, even when I’d broken the rules, but now, he was dying, no longer able to cheer for anyone at all.
Aunt Gwen followed me down the long hall of their large three-story home in the heart of the Coswell District. Downstairs, banging sounds came from the front door, and I figured Verin was nearly done taking my things outside.
I passed a few windows on my hurried stride toward the stairwell. Outside, fae were already hard at work. This area of the capital was mostly inhabited by artists, many without the funds my aunt and uncle had, but considering my uncle had the creative ability to invent nearly any device he sought to forge, he fit right in despite his wealth.
The stairs loomed, but before I reached them, I stopped at my aunt and uncle’s bedchambers’ door.
No light shone beneath the closed door. Most days, my uncle preferred the curtains shut. Bright sunlight bothered him, and it was only one more thing to add to the growing list of symptoms that pained him.
I curled my fingers around the doorknob, and the door opened silently on well-greased hinges. Darkness greeted me, then the quiet rattle of my uncle’s breath.
But he’s still breathing. He’s not dead yet.
Quietly, I crept into the room, my aunt right behind me. Together, we padded to my uncle’s bedside.
The outline of Timith’s skeletal frame appeared in the dim lighting. My heart clenched when I gazed down at the male who’d once stood strong and tall. When I was young, he’d carried me on his shoulders, taught me how to control my magic, and helped me understand the importance of respecting another’s free will.
He’d also shown me all of the ways one could create magical wonders if one only allowed their imagination to fly. Every day, he’d allowed me into his workshop to observe his creative inventions, and he’d never minded my numerous questions, or even the odd times I’d accidentally broken something when I’d dropped it as a wee child. His patience was endless. His love brilliant. And his devotion infinite.
I loved him fiercely, and I clung to the hope that we would find a way back to the happy family we’d once been. Because he was so young, only six hundred summers. Much too young to die.
Emotion clogged my throat, but at least we had the palace healers on our side. Given my uncle’s occupation being so important to the crown, the royals in Mistvale Kingdom had allowed their personal healers to tend to him. Every morning they’d come by, right at sunrise, when the universe bathed our realm in fresh magic. Gratitude filled me at the king and queen’s sweet gesture, but it wasn’t like it hadn’t beendeserved. Timith Hollaran had served the royal family for over half a millennium. He’d earned his right to their care.
A shuddering breath filled my lungs because even with all of the wealth of a Silten continent’s kingdom at his disposal, it hadn’t been enough to cure my uncle. None of the healers could explain what had happened to him, but they were still trying to save him. They would likely try until the end.
My aunt crouched down and took my uncle’s hand. “She’s going now, Timith. Prim’s going to retrieve the Wishing Stone. You just need to hold on until she comes back.”
I waited. Waited for his eyes to open, then crinkle in the corners when he saw me. Waited for his boisterous laugh that had once infected this home like a constant breeze. Waited for his hand to reach for mine and give me a strong squeeze to indicate that he’d heard her.
But instead of his usual responses, my aunt’s words only elicited a slight nod from him. His eyelids didn’t even crack.
