Delia Prance's Arc

Chapter 57 of 59

Elara's warning followed Delia home. Something stolen. Moving toward her. She could not fight what she could not name. For three days she worked her healing house without rest. Nick watched her measure the same fever draught twice. He set his hand over hers to stop it. "You didn't sleep," he said. "I can't," she said. "She told me a thing is coming and gave me nothing to hold." Nick's jaw tightened. He knew this fear. He had worn it before, waiting for his father's blow to fall. "Then we make her tell us more," he said. They rode back through the woods. The white fox with nine glowing tails met them on the path and led them the last stretch. Elara stood on her railing, rings already bright. "You came back angry," she said. "I came back with a question," Delia said. "What was stolen? If I'm to guard against it, I have to know its name." Elara went inside and lifted a glowing pendant from her throat. "A seed," she said. "The heart-seed of your line. Elira carried it. It holds the memory of every healer before her. Someone at the palace took it when she died. Whoever holds it can wake the old magic and bend it. Command it. Not through need. Through will." Delia's stomach dropped. "The court," she said. "If a noble has it—" "They have not woken it," Elara said. "They don't know what it is. But the blooms are rising now. The seed feels its own blood returning. It stirs. Soon someone will learn what they hold." She pressed the pendant into Delia's palm. "This calls to it. When you are near the seed, it will burn cold. Follow it." Delia closed her hand around the pendant. It sat warm now, quiet. "Then I stop guarding," she said. "I find it first." Nick nodded once. "We tear the palace apart before they figure it out." "Not tear," Delia said. "We were given leave to study the magic. I'll study it right into their vaults." Elara caught her wrist at the door, the same grip as before. "When you hold it, the choice comes," she said. "Bend the magic, or free it. Elira chose to free it and lost her life for the choosing. Remember that when your hand is on it." Outside, the dusk-toned unicorn stood among the roots, petals in its mane, watching Delia as if it already knew. Delia mounted her horse with the pendant against her chest. The dread was gone. In its place sat a road. She had a name now, and a compass, and a garden waiting to grow wherever the old magic was set loose. "To the palace," she told Nick. "At first light." For the first time in days, she slept that night without waking.