Page 57 of Chasing Stripes (Enchanted Falls #3)

FIFTY-SEVEN

T he Collector

Candlelight flickered across the ancient pages, casting long shadows on the stone walls of the underground chamber. I traced my fingers over the fragile parchment of the stolen Blu family recipe book, savoring the faint magical resonance that still clung to its pages after centuries.

Page after page of invaluable fae knowledge, yet it was the section titled “Soul-Tether Severance” that commanded my full attention tonight. The illustrations were exquisite—detailed drawings of ritual circles and binding patterns that had not been seen in the magical world for generations.

“Their bond grows stronger,” my assistant reported from the doorway, his silhouette stark against the dimly lit corridor behind him. “The takeover attempt failed as you predicted.”

I did not look up from my study. “Direct binding was merely the first approach. A test of her defenses.”

“The council is involved now,” he continued nervously. “Security has been increased around both the bakery and the pride house.”

“Irrelevant,” I murmured, turning another brittle page with careful precision. “What matters is the connection itself.”

My assistant stepped closer, his curiosity overcoming his usual caution. “But a connection, once fully formed, is nearly indestructible. The texts all agree on that point.”

I allowed myself a thin smile. “Nearly.”

Rising from my chair, I moved to the altar where my collection of ingredients waited. From a velvet-lined box, I removed two vials—one containing strands of golden hair that caught the candlelight with an unmistakable fae shimmer, the other holding several tiger hairs, thick and banded with black and amber.

“Everything magical has a weakness,” I explained, placing the vials beside an obsidian knife whose edge gleamed with unnatural sharpness. “Even the rarest bonds can be broken... with sufficient sacrifice.”

I gestured toward the calendar on the wall where the approaching full moon was marked with a crimson circle. “The lunar alignment approaches. And with it, the perfect opportunity to acquire what I seek.”

“The Blu family magic?” my assistant asked, his voice hushed with both reverence and fear.

I turned to face him fully, enjoying the way he shrank back from my gaze. “That... and more.”

The Arbor-Blu connection was unexpected—an ancient magic that even I had thought largely extinct in the modern world. Yet its appearance offered possibilities I had not dared hope for. A soul-tether of such strength, severed at precisely the right moment, would release magical energy far beyond what either participant could generate alone.

Enough power, perhaps, to fuel the ritual I had spent decades preparing.

I carefully closed the recipe book, my decision made. “Prepare the chamber for the separation ritual. We will need additional subjects for the preliminary tests.”

My assistant bowed and retreated, knowing better than to question further. Alone again, I studied the golden hair in its vial, watching how it seemed to pulse with a faint light of its own—in rhythm with something distant yet connected.

“Soon,” I whispered to the empty room, “your magic will serve a greater purpose, little fae baker. One worthy of the power you’ve unwittingly stumbled into.”

The candles around me flickered in unison as if responding to my will, casting my shadow large and distorted against the ancient stone walls of my sanctuary. The waiting game had begun—and patience had always been my greatest strength.