Chapter 25 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AERIS
I woke up knowing something was wrong.
Not from pain…though my ribs still throbbed dully beneath the healing wrap,but from the unmistakable sensation of being watched.
My eyes snapped open.
Green eyes
Curt. Sharp. Unforgiving.
For a heartbeat, my mind refused to connect the image to reality. Then the truth hit like ice water down my spine.
The Grand Sovereign.
“What are you—?!” I gasped, panic surging—
His hand was suddenly over my mouth.
My breath hitched as the sound died against his palm, my eyes widening in pure shock. Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to shove him away, but something in the way he held me froze me in place.
“Sh,” he whispered, voice low and urgent. “Not a sound.”
His green eyes searched my face. My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could feel it through his hand.
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
Before I could nod. Before I could protest. Before I could even form a coherent thought—
The world folded.
There was no sensation of movement. No pull, no lurch, no warning.
One moment I was lying on the infirmary cot—
The next, I was standing.
I sucked in a sharp breath, swaying slightly as the sudden shift made my head spin. His hand was gone now, but he was still there, solid at my side..
I blinked rapidly, trying to orient myself.
The room was… strange.
Dark, but not empty. Shadows clung to the corners, broken only by pale light bleeding in through tall, narrow windows etched with glowing runes. Shelves lined the stone walls from floor to ceiling, crowded with books bound in cracked leather and metal clasps, their spines marked with symbols I didn’t recognize.
Plants grew everywhere.
Not neatly arranged…alive. Vines curled along the shelves. Glass jars held dried leaves, petals, roots suspended in liquid. A low table near the center was cluttered with scrolls, ink pots, and botanical sketches pinned down with polished stones.
The air smelled like old paper, earth, and crushed herbs.
.
“What—” My voice came out barely above a whisper. “Where are we?”
He turned toward me fully then, cloak settling around him like a shadow drawn tight.
“A place you won’t be overheard,” he said.
I swallowed hard. “You can’t just—” I gestured weakly at the room. “You abducted me.”
His gaze flicked to my face, then lower—taking in the faint tension in my posture, the way I favored my side.
“You were asleep,” he said evenly. “And I needed you awake.”
That did absolutely nothing to calm me.
I folded my arms, suddenly acutely aware that I was alone in a hidden room with the Grand Sovereign, who had appeared beside my bed like a nightmare and moved me across space without permission.
My heart thudded again, harder this time.
“You could have asked,” I said, my voice still breathless.
“I needed discretion,” he replied. “I need you to work on something with me… privately.”
My eyes widened despite myself, my thoughts darting in entirely unhelpful directions. Privately? With the Grand Sovereign?
It was impossible to read his expression beneath the mask, but the word itself lingered in the air, heavy and unsettling.
“Privately,” I echoed.
He inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging the weight of it. “Yes.”
Then, as if sensing my spiraling thoughts, he added, “It’s a plant study.”
I blinked.
“…A what?”
“A herb-based cure,” he clarified.
Everything else fell away.
My confusion evaporated, replaced by a sharp, immediate spark of interest that burned straight through my chest.
“A cure?” I repeated, stepping closer without realizing it. “For what kind of condition?”
“An unusual one,” he said. “Rare. Resistant to conventional healing magic.”
My pulse quickened — not with fear, but with excitement.
Resistant conditions were fascinating. Infuriating. Beautiful puzzles that refused to be solved by brute force alone.
“What’s the source?” I asked quickly. “Poison? Environmental exposure? Magical residue? Something biological or spell-induced?”
He paused, then answered carefully. “Exposure to a corruptive influence. One that should not linger… but does.”
I frowned, already sorting possibilities in my mind.
“If it lingers, then attacking it directly won’t work,” I said. “You’d need something that stabilizes first. Otherwise the body—or the magic—would reject the cure.”
His gaze sharpened slightly.
“Go on.”
I couldn’t stop myself now.
“Most healers go straight for purging,” I continued, pacing as I spoke. “But plants don’t work like that. Some of them bind instead of cleanse. They soften what doesn’t belong until it can be removed without tearing everything else apart.”
I gestured toward a nearby shelf, eyes scanning titles instinctively. “You’d need something adaptive. Probably something that reacts to corruption rather than fighting it.”
Silence followed — not the uncomfortable kind. The focused kind.
“I had similar conclusions,” Kael said at last.
That made my chest warm in a way I didn’t expect.
“Have you identified any candidates yet?” I asked eagerly. “Roots, petals, spores? Something old, maybe pre-Imperial? Those tend to have… opinions.”
“A few,” he said. “But I wanted your assessment before proceeding.”
I stopped short.
“My assessment?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him, stunned. “You want my input before testing?”
“You see patterns others miss,” he said simply. “The other day proved that.”
I swallowed, suddenly very aware of the space between us — of the absurdity of this moment.
The Grand Sovereign.
Asking me to help design a cure.
“Moon-root could help stabilize the host,” I muttered. “But it wouldn’t be enough. You’d need something older. Something rare. Something that recognizes corruption as foreign. A plant so old it has absorbed centuries of natural adaptation…a living filter that could respond to whatever lingering corruption remains.”
Silence stretched, thick and expectant.
Then, quietly, he said, “You’re certain?”
“As certain as I can be without seeing the patient,” I said, frowning slightly. “Actually… where is the subject?”
His back was to me.
“Unavailable,” he said.
I squared my shoulders, forcing myself back into scholar mode. “Then I’ll need access to the specimens. And not just the obvious ones…any plant matter, residues, or fragments. Details on subtle effects too: timing, duration, any resistance patterns. Everything I can examine to deduce how this corruption behaves and how the plants will respond.”
He nodded. “All can be arranged.”
I couldn’t stop the grin that crept onto my face.
“When do we start?”
A pause.
Then, quietly, “Now.”
And just like that, I forgot the strangeness of being summoned in secret.
Forgot the mask. Forgot the hour. Forgot everything except the thrill of a mystery rooted in soil, leaf, and hidden properties waiting to be uncovered.
Whatever this cure was…
I was already all in.