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Chapter 38

IRIS

A gnarled root on the path ahead caught my attention.

Dark burgundy, with a luminescent sheen.

Raven Root.

Besides the lotus, Raven Root was the species I had most hoped to find. It should significantly strengthen my current revitalizing tonic—the only line of defense we had left.

We had been hiking toward the Caverns for half a day. Once Aspen let it slip that he could warm me from the inside out with bursts of Medikai magic, I’d abandoned all but the lightest layers. Still, my fingers twitched every time the cool air brushed the back of my neck, the habit ingrained deep in my bones. Here, at least, I could ignore it.

Thankfully, he didn’t press the topic further. His understanding—that gift of freedom—eased a knot inside me I had been certain would never loosen.

Crouching to inspect the root’s viability, I ran my fingers along its length. My nail caught on a particularly darkened piece near the base of the tree, scraping off a chunk of bark.

It disintegrated immediately.

I rubbed at the spot with my thumb, watching as dark ash fell.

Something was wrong.

Tracing the root back to its source, I noticed strange banding climbing the tree’s base. Darkness, rife and endless, emanated from it in waves. Scanning the area, I cataloged the surrounding wildlife. Over half bore the same marks. These plants were alive, but they felt... wrong.

“What’s the matter?” Aspen dropped to one knee beside me.

“I’ve never seen plant life like this,” I ran a finger along the root. “I know these species.” I gestured at the forest around us. “But something is off about them. The forest…”

The air shifted. A deep, shuddering inhale.

A death rattle.

“The forest is sick.”

Aspen studied where my hand drifted across the bark. “Can we do anything?”

“Not right now,” I sighed, moving toward the undamaged portion of the root.

“Can you use it?” he asked, inspecting a wilted flower near the tree’s base.

I shook my head. “I’m not sure. There’s a section at the end that might be salvageable.” I brought my knife down into the bark. “But if whatever this is has compromised the root’s internal structure, its properties could be corrupted.” I gathered what remained unscathed. “I’d like to test the rest, to determine why it presents this way, but I’m wary of transporting it.”

I glanced at Aspen. “Have you seen anything like this before? Any cases of this disease in Kacidon’s plant life?”

His face grew solemn, muscles tensing.

“Not in plants,” he said, voice weighted. “But the lines…”

I frowned, pressing a nail into the unmarred fibers and rising.

His gaze met mine, sorrow shining in his eyes. “It looks like the veining on our patients. The ones that creep up their arms.” He exhaled. “Usually further along. Near the end.”

Horror rammed through me, my brain slotting the pieces together.

I hadn’t realized it could affect wildlife.

I had seen this before.

Over and over again, I’d seen what this entity could do.

How had I not recognized it?

It looked different on plants, sure, but it was the same. The same veining that began at the fingertips, creeping toward the heart.

The picture in Maladies and Miscreants.

How had that escaped my mind, even for a moment?

Distractions.

We couldn’t afford distractions.

Aspen caught the root I had dropped in surprise, opening my satchel and tucking it inside. “Have you seen this in Vaelithe?” he asked.

“Not in plants, no.” I rubbed at my temple, the beginning of a headache creeping in. “But Vaelithe has seen far too many losses to this plague.”

Understanding flickered across his face. “Did you know them?” he asked gently. “The patients?”

I hesitated. “I worked with some when I assisted Gideon, but not as much as I would’ve liked.” My vision blurred, unfocused beyond the forest. “One, though...” I inhaled sharply. “Her name was Lillith.” A tear slid down my cheek. “She… she was Soulbound to someone I know.”

Aspen winced.

All of Altaerra understood what it meant to lose a Soulbound—the severing of the deepest bond Ethera could share.

If legend were to be believed, soulbinds were a direct result of the Triad creating Felviran while exiled in the Idle Lands. Had Lux never lusted after worlds and places that were forbidden for the Divine to walk, the Cataclysm and all that followed wouldn’t have occurred. But instead of accepting her punishment for meddling with their creations, she and her sisters created their own dollhouse.

The Ethera, as their playthings, were who ended up reaping the consequences of the Triad’s continued defiance

And if one half of the Soulbind died...

Pure emptiness. Unbearable physical pain. A severing of self.

“Lillith was the first in Vaelithe to get sick. Everyone assumed she caught something on her last trip to Solyndra. Or that it was a magical affliction. We exhausted every resource, but in the end…” My throat tightened. “We lost her mind long before we lost her body.”

“How long ago?”

“Six months.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

It had been so long. And there had been so many after Lillith. In Vaelithe and Kacidon.

N othing had worked.

No tincture from the apothecary. No Medikai magic.

Not a single thing had done more than slow the progression.

“Were you two close?” Aspen asked, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to steady. “Not as much as I would have liked.” My voice wavered. “She loved visiting the Apothecary. I think, in another life, we could have been great friends.” Wiping my eyes, I shook my head. “We have to find something, Aspen. We have to stop this.”

“We will.” He squeezed my shoulder once before letting go.

We walked in silence, both lost in thought.

After a few minutes, Aspen angled his body toward mine. “Do you have one?”

I blinked.

“A soulbound, I mean,” he clarified.

“A Tie or a Tether?”

“Either.”

Ties anchored two pieces of soul in the middle, reaching towards each other. It could be pulled on, but it remained loose, both parties highly aware of each other at all times. Often, soulbound Ties were platonic, born of the love found in friendship. The unfaltering, persevering, understanding love. A power transcendent, ebbing and flowing to separate dreams, but never apart. A Tie kept you from floating away.

Where Ties were a meeting in the middle, a binding of the end of a piece of soul, Tethers were a twining. Two souls integrated so deeply together, it was impossible to determine where one ended and another began. The Tether was one conduit between the two, belonging as much to one half as it did to the other. It constantly tugged, desperate to see the pieces of a whole united. More rare than a Tie, a Tether blended into one heartbeat. A lifeline.

Exceptionally different connections, but no one more important than the other. Whether a Tie or a Tether, once fastened by a Threader, the souls were bonded indefinitely.

It was brilliant, to chain us to this world using our love for each other. To stitch those pieces of our souls so indefinitely, we never had a reason to wander, as Lux had.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t say it wouldn’t work on me. That’s why it terrified me so deeply.

They had turned love into a tool.

I exhaled slowly. “No. I don’t.”

“You seem relieved,” he mused.

“I’m not fond of the Divine’s proclivity for toying with us,”

He considered that. “Most believe it to be an honor.”

“No one should spend millennia with another out of obligation.” Conviction sharpened my voice. “Partnerships should be built on love and respect.”

Aspen was silent for a moment, before responding “But wouldn’t you want that, a bond that strong?”

“I used to,” I admitted. “Used to daydream about love like I read about in books. But experiencing an all-consuming love nearly destroyed me.”

“Cecily?” he asked, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

I nodded. “I’d wrapped my entire life around her. My likes, my dislikes, my hobbies—all of it. It was so intertwined within her, I didn’t know how to be me anymore. It wasn’t her fault, it was just…”

“You lost yourself,” he finished.

“I couldn’t give myself to someone like that again after, so I kept them all at a distance. Even Sarek, who had been nothing but kind…I couldn’t do it.”

“ Damn Divine .” I jumped at his drastic shift. “Now I owe Theon,” he groaned. “I truly didn’t believe you’d been with the healer.”

I laughed, and the gnawing in my chest that had grown talking about soulbinds began to ease. “Really?”

“I bet him quite a sum.” Aspen ran a hand through his hair, the shorter white strands sticking up on edge.

In The Tundra, gone was his incessant perfection. The glimpses of him in between, the mussed hair and sleep-filled voice, were the ones I craved.

“Why would you be so sure?”

“He doesn’t look at you like he should.”

“We haven’t been together, in that way, in years,” I corrected.

“That does not change it.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

“And that wasn’t even a soulbind,” I began, breaking the tense silence. “I can’t imagine losing something like that.”

“I never would have marked you for a cynic, Virlana.”

“Not smitten with the idea of the Divine choosing my fate for me. Again,” I countered. “I’m not against it. I think it’s a beautiful experience for people who truly love each other and should be celebrated as such. But I’ve seen it used as a crutch. A soulbind should never be the sole or even the primary reason two people choose each other.”

Aspen studied me. “And marriage?”

“That’s a choice. It should be.” I met his gaze. “That matters.”

He nodded, stopping at a fork in the path. A steep mountain range loomed to the left, a densely packed forest to the right.

“We go left,” Aspen declared.

A prickle of unease crawled up my spine.

The path looked perfectly trustworthy, the slope wasn’t anything to be concerned about, but I couldn’t shake the feeling.

“I don’t think we should trust it.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed, already stepping forward. “I know these lands, Iris. It’ll be fine.”

I eyed the spot. It really did look steady, but the gnawing insistence grew as I jogged after him, irritation creeping into my tone. “Aspen, listen to me. It’s not?—”

“Come on,” he replied, ignoring my concern and heading to the left. “If we hurry we can cut a bit of time off of our journey.”

A low, rumbling roar shattered the clearing.

I snapped my head toward the sound.

Snow hurtled down the mountainside, an avalanche barreling straight toward us.

There was no way to outrun it.

Without thinking, I grabbed Aspen’s shoulder and shoved him behind me. Power surged from my core, warping and expanding as it tore from my hands.

A crescendo of song split the air. I let go of any control I had over the Threads, allowing them to weave and braid together quicker than I could do so myself. Gold swirled above us, forming a barrier as the snow crashed down.

Aspen’s magic had been a heartbeat too slow.

Panting, drenched in sweat, I held the Threads in place. They poured from me, aimlessly thrashing against the solid barrier. I didn’t even bother reining them in, arms trembling to keep the barrier solid against the raging avalanche.

“Now do you believe me?” I breathed.

I opened a miniscule gap in the ward, enough to allow him to manipulate the snow surrounding us. He moved it with ease, the entire bank safely pushed away in only a few breaths.

Aspen stared at me in disbelief.

“I thought you said you’d stop underestimating a Virlana.”