Page 114 of Foresyth Conservatory

When the silence between us stretched, she continued. “There’s still much good you could do, Dahlia. Sometimes we must rely on what we already know to guide us to the good, rather than searching for it outside ourselves.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The Al-Ahmar studied me for a long moment before speaking again. “The Council was impressed by you. You have a unique immunity to magickal relics—a talent that was evident that night of the ceremony. In fact, you were the only one able to handle the Book without being consumed. Have you wondered why?”

“I’ve tried to put that night behind me,” I replied. “But yes, I have wondered.”

I had felt the Book’s pull—like a low, humming presence, something that wanted to burrow inside me, whisper secrets only I could hear. But it hadn’t consumed me the way it had others.

I held it, I resisted it, and I burned it to ash.

“Our research suggests it has something to do with your Roma heritage on your mother’s side,” she said. “Dealers in magickal relics often need some immunity to them, and we believe you inherited this. Your father’s blood contained Elyrium, which made the Book call to you. But from your mother, you inherited a marker that counteracts it. You’re like a bloodhound that doesn’t devour what it finds.”

Elyrium? A counter magick?Thoughts tumbled through my head, curiosity sparking in my chest. But I gulped them all down.

“An interesting metaphor,” I said, “but I’m not sure how it’s relevant now; the Book is gone.”

“The Book might be gone, but magick is not. As you said, belief itself can still compel people to evil. Your father, though tormented, was driven by justice. I thought perhaps you were too.”

I swallowed. “I’m not my father.”

“I think we can both be glad of that,” she said, a soft laugh threading through her words. “But there are parts of him in you—parts drawn to darkness, and parts searching for light within it. The truth.”

As she fell silent, I regarded her carefully.

Her words settled over me like dust, fine and inescapable. She wasn’t wrong. I had always been drawn to the places others turned away from—the secrets buried under floorboards and behind locked doors. I had spent my life digging, prying, searching. If it was a patron seated across from me or a deadly Conservatory, it didn’t matter, I pressed on the same.

But was it justice? Or was it morbid curiosity?

As the silence stretched, I realized something else. This wasn’t just a conversation. This was another job offer.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“You’re too young to be an Advisor, not to mention I suspect that’s not your path now, given you closed your practice. But there is an organization I think you’d find interesting. They’re called the Arcanum, a group independent from Foresyth that investigates magickal crimes across the world. I recommended you to them.”

I squinted at her. “That’s not the kind of travel I had in mind. Estelle and I have other plans.”

“You don’t need to decide now,” she said gently. “But I hope you’ll think about it. Like I said, Dahlia, there’s a lot of good you could do. Promise me you’ll consider it?”

Her voice held a strange weight, an almost maternal urgency that made my throat tighten. I looked at her, and for a moment, it was as if Julian himself were staring back at me. The resemblance was uncanny—not just in the tilt of her head or the softness in her smile, but in something deeper, more ineffable. It was as though a thread had been woven between them, and through Julian, it now connected to me.

“I promise, I’ll think about it,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. Her smile deepened, and I returned it cautiously, my chest caught between a swell of relief and an ache I couldn’t quite place.

She stood, and I followed her across the room. My eyes fell to the box resting on the counter—the relic of my father’s life, his obsessions, his failures. For so long, it had weighed on me, like an anchor tied to my foot, pulling me down. Now, as I prepared to part with it, I felt that weight shift, not vanishing entirely, but becoming lighter.

“Are you sure you want to part with these?” she asked, her fingers hovering over the box.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said. My hand rested on the lid for a moment, realizing I was sealing it for the last time. I could hear Estelle’s quiet footsteps above me, and I smiled to myself. “There’s nothing in here I don’t already know.” The words felt true, but they still tasted strange.

The knowledge was mine now, not bound to these objects or the people who had held them before me. Letting go of those books felt like shedding a layer of skin.

She took the box and tucked it under her arm, and I followed her to the door, watching as she stepped into the street. I stood at the doorway until the car turned the corner and disappeared, swallowed by the narrow street. I stepped outside, onto the cobblestones of Wicker Street. The wind pressed against my skin, cool and full of familiar scents—salt, smoke, something sweet carried from a bakery down the way. The street stretched before me, endless in its possibilities.

Arcanum, I thought. At least they had one less thing to worry about, now that I had banished Skorn magick. I had seen the Book crumble into ash, its powers rendered void. No one could use the cards to hold sway over others, anymore.

But then, like a weed sprouting in a cleared garden, a thought pushed its way through the soil of my mind.

Aspen.

The Emperor.

THE END