Page 22

ROLLO

T he forest was holding its breath. Rollo felt it in his bones.

He stood at the southern edge of the sanctuary grounds, a hand pressed to the protective ward stone buried just beneath the twisted roots of the elder maple. It should’ve hummed warm beneath his skin. Steady. Quiet.

Instead, the pulse was erratic—like a heartbeat knocked out of rhythm. Something was interfering with the protective barrier.

His jaw tightened. He could smell it—barely there, but wrong. Sour. Twisted.

Garrick’s magic.

It coiled through the air like smoke from greenwood fire—sharp, sickly, and far too familiar. The glyph hidden in the bramble hadn’t been etched by a student or a curious traveler. It was carved with purpose. Rot etched into protection.

He crouched, pushing aside a curtain of thistle and brush.

In the dirt—half-concealed by moss—was a sigil. Old. Twisted. Marked in blood that had dried to a rusted smear and ash from a burned offering.

Rollo’s stomach turned.

He didn’t need a Council decree to know what it meant. Garrick had been here. Recently. Marking the ward from inside. And someone had helped him.

He ran his hand through his hair, tension building like thunder behind his ribs. Every part of him wanted to rip the glyph out by the root, but he forced himself to memorize it first. He’d need to report it—to someone. Eventually.

But not now. Not with everything unraveling this fast.

He was still crouched there when he heard footsteps.

Soft. Controlled. Determined.

Delilah.

Rollo straightened slowly, brushing dirt from his palms. But the weight on his shoulders didn’t shift. If anything, it grew heavier.

She stepped into the clearing like a storm dressed in sunlight—her stride sharp, eyes hard, chin lifted just enough to let him know she wasn’t here to ask gently.

“You didn’t tell me,” she said, her voice even, but every word landed like a blade. “About Garrick. About any of it.”

He froze, caught mid-breath.

So she knew.

“Delilah, let me explain…”

“I came here today,” she said, quieter now, “to ask. Not accuse. I wanted to understand what Nerissa meant. What happened between you and Garrick. Why it left you so afraid.” Her voice trembled, but her hands were steady.

Rollo took a moment to answer. It’s not the question he was expecting.

“I didn’t want to become him,” he finally said. “Garrick was like a brother to me and then he just kind of… went off the rails. It was all after you left so I never bothered to tell you. But we were so much alike and, well, you remember.”

She nods once. “Yeah, you two were together a lot.”

He rubbed the back of his next trying to find the words he had never told anyone before. “I was afraid that if Garrick could do what he did, I assume Nerissa told you?”

Again, she nodded.

“Well, if he did that, and I felt that same urge, what would stop me from becoming that as well? I grieved for my friend, I was still grieving over you It all became a lot. So, I shut down and tried to figure out who or what I was.”

Delilah stepped closer now and reached for his hand in understanding, but before she could say anything she looked down and saw what he had uncovered. She froze and gestured to the glyph, sick and curling at the edges, pulsing with something dark and familiar.

“This… this is twisted magic. This doesn't belong here,” she breathed, her eyes never leaving it.

“I didn’t put it there”

“This” Her eyes turned cold now. “This is the magic that Garrick has been using? One of the reasons he was exiled?” Her voice had turned to ice covered fury.

Rollo nodded slowly, now only realizing that she hadn’t known it was his magic sickening the land, but now, she did. And she obviously knew he had known it as well.

“You knew this was his. Didn’t you?”

He nodded, slow. “I did.”

Her face went pale.

“For how long?”

Rollo opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked down. “Since the phoenix pup. I felt it then. But then I saw him in the woods and I knew it was him. A week, maybe more.”

Delilah recoiled like he’d struck her. “You talked to him? And you’ve known for over a week?”

Rollo took a step forward. “I didn’t want to panic you. I needed time to?—”

“You needed time ?” Her voice cracked. “Rollo, Wren is dying. The land is sick. The wards are failing. You didn’t think I needed to know? You asked me for help even!”

“I was protecting you,” he said, even though the words felt hollow now.

Delilah’s lips parted, and for a moment, it looked like she might scream. But she didn’t.

She just breathed —shaky, slow—and that somehow felt worse.

She stepped closer, her voice low, sharp. “This isn’t just about some rogue friend with a vendetta. This is about the land. About Wren. Whatever’s poisoning the forest is poisoning her too.”

“I didn’t want to believe it was him,” he said, voice thick. “I hoped—gods, I hoped it was a mistake. That I’d misread the signs. I didn’t want to bring this to you until I was sure.”

“But you were sure,” she said. “You knew the moment you found that pup. You saw him. You talked to him,” she whispered, voice cracking. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“He threatened you,” Rollo said suddenly, the words ripped out like a wound. “That’s what he did when I found him. Said I couldn’t protect what was already broken. Said your name like it was a warning.”

Delilah’s breath caught, but she didn’t cry.

“You should’ve told me.”

“I deliberately lied when I asked.”

“I didn’t lie,” he said quietly. “I just didn’t tell you everything.”

Her laugh was bitter. “That’s called a lie by omission, Rollo.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“No,” she said, stepping in now, fury tremoring through her like lightning held in flesh. “You were trying to control it. Just like you’ve always done. The land is sick , Rollo. It’s weak . Wren is weak. If I’d known?—”

“If you’d known, what?” he snapped, louder than he meant. “You would’ve thrown yourself into the trees and tried to pull the rot out with your bare hands? That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you!”

She blinked. Tears welled—angry ones. Betrayed.

“You don’t trust me,” she whispered. “You still think I’m that girl from before. That I can’t handle truth.”

He took a step toward her, reaching. “That’s not it.”

She stepped back.

“You think keeping me in the dark is some kind of noble act,” she said, voice shaking now. “But it’s not. It’s cowardice. It’s selfish.”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he said, almost pleading. “I couldn’t risk it.”

“You already have ,” she snapped.

The words hit like claws.

She swallowed hard, blinking back tears she clearly didn’t want to show.

“I came back here for Wren. For the town. For you. I stayed when I wanted to run. I gave you everything I could. And I thought—maybe—we were doing this together.”

“We were. We are. ”

“No,” she said, voice quiet now, hollow. “We’re not. Because you made a choice for both of us. And it put me—and Wren— at risk. ”

Silence fell. Dense and unrelenting.

She stepped back, arms wrapping tight across her chest like she had to hold herself together.

“I need to think,” she whispered. “I need to figure out if I can trust someone who doesn’t trust me back.” Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t blink. “How can I trust you if you won’t trust me ?”

The question lingered in the clearing like smoke.

Rollo couldn’t answer it.

She stared at him a moment longer—long enough for him to see the heartbreak replace the fire and then walk away.

Rollo’s throat worked, but he didn’t stop her.

He didn’t chase her.

He watched her turn and walk away, her shoes crunching over broken twigs, her hair catching sunlight like fire, the distance between them growing longer with every step.

And for once, he let it. Because she was right.

And no amount of protecting her could fix what his silence had broken.