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Chapter 10

IRIS

“Read me the notes you’ve gathered thus far. Again.”

Sarek lounged across a navy chaise in the Kacidon royal library, idly tossing a decorative orb into the air. The fire crackled as I paced, illuminating the patches of darkness where the sunflares lining the sconces dimmed out.

It had been a month since our meeting with the king and queen, and I’d spent nearly every waking hour combing through the Kacidon royal library’s archives. Sarek returned from Vaelithe for a brief update on how the patients in our realm were faring, his cart weighed down with an abundance of my belongings. Journals, research catalogues, and stacks of botanical indexes detailing every species of flora I had encountered over the past two decades now littered the long table in front of us.

“This is all school-age history,” I sighed, exasperated. “None of it is new information.”

“Tell it to me anyway. I doubt you've spoken to many of these pretentious assholes during your stay. Reading it aloud might spark something you’ve overlooked.”

Sarek set down the orb and reached for a book, flipping lazily through its pages as he brought his tea to his lips. Knowing he’d request it upon his return, I’d asked the kitchens for extra.

“You want to help with my research?”

Sarek liked order. Tradition. He followed healing texts to the letter. It had taken him months to become comfortable with using tonics during his apprenticeship, even with how commonplace they’d become in Vaelithe.

He much preferred leaving experimental work to others.

He took another sip. “I won’t pretend I can see it the way you do. But you’ve always needed to work aloud.”

My fingers twisted and re-braided a section of hair near my ear as I recounted the history of our world’s creation by the Goddesses. The texts I had poured over told the story with only minor variations, each version colored by the scribe’s bias. “Our creation was meant to ease the grief of mortality, but our lives are our own to shape.” I said on an exhale. “You know all of this, Sarek.”

Night had long since settled, creeping through the windows, mocking how in the dark I still felt. Sarek rubbed a hand over his face, dragging sleep from his eyes.

“I know. Just continue.”

“We are responsible for the consequences of our actions. The Divine do not interfere.”

“They interfered once,” he countered.

“Well, yes, a handful of times,” I conceded. “First, the Divine intervened while the Goddesses were still exiled, invoking the soulbinds. Then the Triad walked our lands during the Passage with the Tenebris War.”

I collapsed into a chair across from him, tilting my head back against the upholstery.

“And, if the scholars are to be believed, someone among the Divine interfered to create the western continent of Deimos.”

“Did they interfere?” I murmured, “or had we simply not discovered those lands yet?”

Power simmered beneath my skin, rising with my frustration. I hadn’t drained my reserves in weeks, aside from conjuring small orbs of light during late-night sessions in the library. Sweat slicked my palms, dampening my brow. The more I wrestled for control, the harder it became to smother the roiling in my veins.

“I brought a vessel,” Sarek said softly, setting a glass container between us. “If you need it.”

“Traveling with it is exceedingly dangerous.” My whisper came out harsher than I intended.

“I’ll manage,” he shrugged, resuming his position sprawled across the chaise.

Sarek didn’t know my true identity, but he knew about the Threads. More importantly, he was also one of the only people who knew why I drained them. After that night, he had vowed to keep my ability to himself.

I smoothed my hands over the bodice of my corset, finding comfort in its lilac hue. The blue and silver of Kacidon were undeniably beautiful, but tension eased from my shoulders the moment I saw my belongings—the earthen and floral tones of home. As a Vaelithe citizen, my wardrobe overflowed with traditional colors: rich greens, deep browns, the shades of nature wove into our lives. Though my personal wardrobe mostly spanned the spectrum of purple—wisteria, lavender, plum. Lilac had always been my favorite.

Thankfully, my personal collection had been curated over the years for high coverage. Corsets, stays, bodices, and vests—all designed to conceal my mark without restricting the rest of my body. I preferred the freedom, the sensation of air against my skin.

At the very least, I could now layer my own clothes underneath the outwear I needed to venture beyond the palace gates and read.

Almost daily, my boy from the woods would join me—either arriving after I was immersed in research or already lost in his own. Sometimes we traded novels, others he brought sweets. Often we hardly spoke at all. But his presence was a welcome solace, a quiet reprieve from the suffocating scrutiny of the palace.

“I appreciate it, Sarek. Truly.”

I stood, dragging one of the lighter armchairs against the door. Theon was notably absent the past few days, but I had convinced his replacement to stand watch outside. With only one exit from the library, we had privacy.

“Back to what I was saying.” I used a Thread of power to break the barrier sealing the vessel’s cork. “We have no way of knowing if Deimos was created after Altaerra by some other force or if it simply remained undiscovered for centuries.”

I sliced the thin blade of the letter opener across my palm, quick and precise. The room filled with a soft, low ballad as I unraveled the barrier around my magic. Sarek stared at the ceiling, either out of disinterest or discomfort, I wasn’t sure.

“Apparently, they do not worship the Triad as we do,” he said.

My head snapped up. “How do you know that?”

The Thread I’d been controlling slipped from my fingers, releasing a burst of light that branded the wall with a scorch mark before disintegrating.

“The Chasm makes sea travel to the west treacherous. The eastern passage is far too lengthy for safe travel. Deimos is surrounded on all sides by impassable mountains. There are no known ports. It’s nearly impossible to reach the continent, which is why we know so little about its people. And if anyone has made it, they’ve yet to return. We have nothing more than myths and unexplained artifacts.”

“Rumors from the taverns along the trade routes,” Sarek waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing concrete. But the idea had to start somewhere.”

“Rumors won’t help us now. Half of Altaerra could be wiped out before we figure out how to travel safely to Deimos.”

Another bright strand of raw magic poured into the glass before me, bouncing off the sides. The vessel was over halfway full, but I had barely taken the edge off the burning in my veins.

Control, Iris.

Sarek’s refusal to watch the ritual sunk into that ever-growing maw inside my chest, the ache a stark reminder. His vial would help, but without a consistent way to drain my magic properly here, I needed to start looking for another solution. I’d ignored the searing pain for too long already.

I refused to lose control again.

“As the land isn’t shuddering and our ears aren’t being split open by a shrieking song, we can assume the Divine remain on their own plane,” Sarek said on an exhale. “Disregarding Deimos and its origins, the Divine have interfered twice that we know of. Both instances to prevent destruction of our world and its people.”

I nodded, realizing what he was insinuating. “This has not reached the level of becoming concerning to the Divine. That is a grim consolation I suppose.”

The soft melody of my magic faded as I added one last draw of magic, weaving a simple barrier around the vessel to stabilize it for travel and sealing the stopper. Sarek tucked it into his bag, then reached across the table, running his fingers along my palm. My skin stitched itself together under the warm glow.

His presence was grounding—a reminder of home. Yet, when the remnants of my magic were out of sight and he finally relaxed, the familiar sting returned. I couldn’t fault him for being wary of that piece of me, but it still hadn’t gotten easier.

I leaned forward, rubbing my temples in a futile attempt to ease the throbbing in my skull. Weeks of relentless research left my journals overflowing with botanical notes, but with no direction. I could study Kacidon’s plant life for an eternity, but without understanding the illness itself, how could I craft a cure?

“I just don’t know where else to look, Sarek. I’ve searched every book on magical healing, flora, botanicals…” I exhaled sharply. “If I even had an idea on where to go next, it would be a start.”

Desperation clawed at my ribs. For the first time, I wished the Triad would walk Felviran again—if only to impart their wisdom.

Granted, I didn’t speak the old language of the Divine, but…

“Fucking Goddess above. Of course.”