OLIVE
Through their embrace, I glimpsed the river.
The Guttervine had gone still. Its roots lay half-submerged, its vines folded inward like clasped hands, watching. Then one vine uncurled. Slowly. Deliberately. It reached toward me, bearing not a strike but a bloom. Petals spread wide, revealing a single seed within.
Without thinking, I reached out. It was warm, like a stone left in the sun. The vine withdrew, back into the current. I closed my fingers around the seed. Somehow, I knew. It was a thank-you.
We started our way back home. I had the seed pod in my left hand and was twirling my carving knife in my right. Useless. I had a knife on me that entire time and I didn’t even think to use it. I mean, sure, if I had thought about it, I wouldn’t have wanted to hurt the Guttervine, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that I didn’t think.
My parents both praised and scolded me. They thought I did really well, but that I should have used my spell to get to safety and then told them to handle it. But they would have seen it if they weren’t so busy talking about a stupid treaty.
Dad was carrying my black blade. Yes, mine. I used my spell to pull it out of the Guttervine. It nearly decapitated me. It’s mine. It was still burning, and I didn’t have a sheath, so Dad didn’t let me carry it, but as soon as the spell wore off it would be my sword. The fact that it hadn’t worn off yet meant that the spell was either cast recently or the person who cast it was exceptionally powerful.
As the forest path bent, I realized where we were. Close to Arbolive.
“Mom, Dad,” I blurted, “can I see her? Just for a moment?” My voice wavered between begging and pleading. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed it.
They hesitated, but Olivander came to my rescue, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “I’ll go with her,” he promised. “We won’t be long.”
Our parents nodded, and we hurried down the side path. The forest felt alive beneath my feet, like it wanted me there. Brambles shifted aside, roots gave me firm footing, and the familiar ridge rose to meet me. I crested it and saw her. Arbolive. Swaying gently, though no wind touched her.
I didn’t slow. I ran straight to her and wrapped my arms and legs around her trunk, clinging tight. My cheek pressed against her bark, rough, warm, familiar. It felt like she’d been waiting for me.
Olivander stood nearby, quiet, while a kitesqueak flitted down and landed on my head. It spun twice in a circle before curling up, its fluffy tail brushing my ear. At last, I let go, leaning my forehead against Arbolive’s trunk one more time, whispering my goodbye.
Then something tugged my gaze. A pond, small and still, just beyond. A single leaf drifted down and touched its surface, ripples widening in circles. The seed pod in my hand felt heavy. I knelt, lowered my hand into the water, and let it go. The pod sank gently to the bottom, leaving only ripples behind.
I lay in my bed, exhausted after the long day. My body didn’t hurt, thanks to Olivander’s healing, but my mind… that was another story. I already knew having two bodies was going to be a problem. The whole Guttervine incident had proven that much.
Splitting my vision made everything double, or quadruple, if I was dumb enough to open all four of my eyes at once. That trick left my brain stinging, like getting jabbed by a Wraithquill. I’ve never actually been stung by one, but I’ve seen their spines, each the length of my finger. Pretty sure it would hurt a lot.
Anyway, I was getting off track. I could handle this whole mess as long as I only moved Lucarion around when Olive was asleep. Speaking of Lucarion… probably time to get him up.
I opened his eyes to a stone ceiling, dimly lit by a single wall torch. No fire elemental this time. I was lying on a makeshift bed. It seemed that someone or something I corrected as the demon came to mind had placed a mattress on the table in the center of the room.
LUCARION
My hands came into view, stained with dried blood, bruised across the knuckles, one nail torn raw. The ache was dull but steady. I swallowed. I didn’t have magic. There was no way to heal myself. Here, in this body, I was powerless.
Just today, if that sword had decapitated me, I would’ve been fine. My parents, my brother, Olivander, they could’ve healed me right up. But here… it wasn’t just that I was alone. I was surrounded by demons, hiding behind a fake identity, with no magic at all. Not even enough to fix a bruised hand or a torn nail.
Was I supposed to heal this normally? Did that even happen here? Could this body repair itself, or would every cut, every ache, stay with me forever? The thought made my stomach clench. This was just like back in that awful pod, when my spell had fizzled out and I was nothing but a girl trapped in something I couldn’t fight. Small. Helpless.
I shook my head. No. Not powerless. Not completely. They think I am their leader. One of them. I had already decided that counted for something. It had to count for something.
I shifted uneasily, then froze. Pajamas? My hands patted my legs, then stilled. Different clothes. Fresh. Clean. Someone had changed me.
Embarrassment flushed through me. I remembered wetting myself, but these were entirely new clothes. Magnavex must have changed me while I slept again. I felt my ears go red as I remembered when I ran into her naked. That led me to think about that squid again. I failed to suppress a shudder.
There was something different about my nudity. My eyes went as wide as dinner plates. I slowly lowered my hands to my pants.
…and my hand brushed against something unfamiliar. I went rigid. I knew what it was. I’d seen it before, on animals. A strange electric feeling went up my spine. I hesitated, then lifted the hem of my pants just enough to peek.
I let the waistband fall. Heat climbed my face. I slid off the table.
Lucarion’s stomach growled in protest. Good. Yes. Food. That’s the perfect excu— I mean, direction to go in. I should eat something. What do, um… Eclipserans eat? I know demons eat people. Francine had told me they especially like little girls that misbe—
She was lying, wasn’t she!
I wiped my bloody hands furiously on my shirt and shuffled to the door. It creaked open under my cautious push. The hallway beyond was colder than the room, the air heavy, smelling faintly of damp stone. Shadows stretched long between flickering torches. My footsteps echoed in a way I didn’t like, like the halls wanted to announce I was here.
I tried to walk with purpose, but each corridor looked the same. Black stone walls, endless stretches of carved archways, no windows, no sunlight, no sense of direction. Back home I could follow tracks, moss growth, even the smell of trees. Here? Nothing.
Just shelves and shelves of books. Big ones, little ones. Short, fat, tall, thin. Blue, red, black, yellow. All of them. Everywhere.
I stopped, forgetting my hunger. My hand drifted across spines until one slipped out into my hands. “Whoops,” I muttered, then “slipped” and landed cross-legged on my butt.
“Obedience in Ink and Blood.” Not the friendliest, sounding title. I opened the book. It creaked slightly from lack of use and… I couldn’t read it. The words swirled around in some strange script. I had forgotten it looked like this last time too. I continued to stare at it, willing it to become legible.
Slowly, I started to recognize letters, then words, as they shifted back into something recognizable. I’d barely read the first line when—
“Ahem.”
I jolted, slamming the book shut, my heart hammering in my chest. A shadow shifted between the shelves.
“Lost, are we?” came a voice, soft and obsequious, like it wanted to bow even while speaking.
I turned slowly, clutching the book like a shield.
And froze.