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Angel spoke first. “These seem like something that would be found in—”

Iris cut her off with a warning look and Angel snapped her mouth shut. I glanced between them. “What were you going to say?”

“It was just a random thought,” Angel said hastily, casting Iris a sideways glance. “But there are rumors that the Ebony Market sells illegal flowers.”

“Ebony Market?” My heart pounded in my ears. “You never told me that’s what it was called.”

Mother’s name was Ebony. I scrambled to piece this information together, and a possibility for why Mother had been suspended slowly formed: she’d been creating and undoubtedly using illegal flowers in her Weavings, evidence of which I’d just shown my friends.

The realization hit me like a crashing meteor, confirming what my subconscious seemed to have already figured out, but which I’d refused to acknowledge. While I’d known she’d been suspended, this entire time I’d hoped it’d been a misunderstanding, a consequence for her simply possessing unique powers. So to learn that she was involved with something so dark and forbidden…

Iris leaned closer, eyes concerned. “Are you alright, Eden?”

I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even breathe. I stood there motionless, my mind racing. As much as I yearned to deny it, I knew it was true.

Mother’s notebook full of unusual plants no one seemed to have seen before, the same plants we’d spent hours tending in her garden; vague memories of strangers secretly visiting her there over the years, making exchanges in hushed whispers…it all seemed so obvious now: Mother was in charge of the Ebony Market. I tried to work up some shock at this realization, but I only felt numb.

My heart pounded in trepidation. If Angel and Iris figured out what these plants were and who they belonged to…would they connect me to the missing Weaver? Their knowledge would only jeopardize my already precarious position, especially if it got back to the Council, causing me to lose my final chance to prove myself.

I wanted to dismiss my suspicions, but I couldn’t escape the truth, one that made me sick to my stomach. It wasn’t long before desperation caused doubts to rush uninvited into my mind. Surely it was only a coincidence. Mother could never be involved in anything sinister. She was a Dreamer, just like me, and Dreamers wouldn’t be involved in something illegal that could easily tip the fragile balance.

My doubts lingered over the next several days, impossible to quench. I spent every free moment combing the Cultivating Fields in an attempt to find matches of Mother’s strange plants, anything to prove her innocence, but I found nothing.

“Do you think the reason we can’t find them is because they’re from the illegal market?” Stardust asked timidly on my third afternoon of searching, finally voicing my silent fears out loud.

I nearly snapped the stem of the azalea I was currently examining. “Why would Mother have flowers from the illegal market in her notebook?” I asked shakily.

Stardust was quiet for a moment, bristling, as if trying very hard to remain silent.

“Do you suspect her of something?” I asked slowly. Stardust learning the truth would only make it more difficult to hide.

“I only have suspicions,” she said in a rush. “The only plants I’ve found that even resemble these were the ones from your Mother’s garden.” She morphed into her notebook and flipped to the pages of plants she’d carefully drawn the day she spied on me. Several were an exact match. She avoided my eyes. “It’s just a thought, but I’m beginning to wonder if the reason your mother was suspended is because she’s actually part of the Ebony—”

“You’re wrong!” I yelled and she immediately snapped her mouth shut. But my anger couldn’t erase the sickening feeling that had been sinking deeper in the pit of my stomach.

Would there be any way to prove these plants weren’t from the illegal market?

I wished I could just ask Darius if he knew anything about them, but despite the sweet reception he’d given me after my Council hearing, we seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement to maintain distance while I was on probation, as anything else would only be more suspicious to the Council. With Stardust carefully monitoring our Weavings, I’d followed his lead and put necessary distance between us, despite my heart longing for more.

After hours scouring the Dream Library’s cultivation section yielded no results, only one conclusion remained: these weren’t dream plants. If instead they were part of the Nightmare Realm, there was only one Cultivator I could ask.

* * *

The ominous gatedentrance towered over the crumbling path lined with trees whose gnarled branches formed beautiful, jagged shapes. I peered tentatively through the obsidian bars for my first glimpse of the Nightmare Realm, but all I could see was an identical twisting path on the other side that was swallowed up by the swirls of thick fog.

A figure slowly emerged from the mist. Trinity. Apprehension tightened my chest as she approached. Her smile in greeting did little to reassure me as she pushed open the gate and slipped across the border.

“Good evening, Dreamer Eden. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The nerves knotting my stomach seemed to have sealed my throat. I shouldn’t be speaking to Trinity, especially when she was one of the possible suspects for framing me. But there was no one else I could turn to for the answers I so desperately sought. As the only other Cultivator I knew other than Iris, she was perhaps the only one who could help me decipher the meaning of the plants filling Mother’s strange notebook.

Trinity tilted her head, surveying me. “I was quite surprised to receive your summons asking to meet, especially in a place like this. Have you managed to heed my suggestion to experiment with your dream exploring abilities?” A dark look flashed in Trinity’s amber eyes when I shook my head before her expression hastily cleared. “How disappointing. What other reason could you possibly have to meet?”

I hesitated, still unsure whether or not I could trust her, then shakily pulled out Mother’s notebook. Trinity’s eyes widened.

“That’s Ebony’s.” She took the notebook with a hungry eagerness and rapidly flipped through it. “I recognize all of these. They’re Ebony’s creations—some based on ideas inspired by legends, but most from her own imagination.”

“What are they?” I asked.