Chapter 130 The Locket Part 2
Daisy looked at her mother, at Delia, at the way Xeris now stood almost protectively over both of them. A wave of grief and responsibility pressed down on her as she felt the chain shudder inside her, the physical sensation echoing the turmoil within. In her mind's eye, she saw the city—her city—burning behind her, its bones picked clean, an image that reminded her of all she had lost and all that depended on her choices. Yet amidst the flames, a single memory flickered up: the faded sign over Farah's bakery, swinging in the smoke, the scent of warm bread lingering in the air, laughter from the shopfront where Mara once slipped her a heel of rye for free. That glimpse, so heartbreakingly ordinary, made the loss near unbearable; it was not just stone and strategy at stake, but the very heartbeats of home. The weight of survival, hope, and the cost of leadership converged in this single moment, deepening her resolve even as sorrow threatened to overcome her.
She nodded. “Let’s go.”
They moved as a pack, Oliver out front, Daisy just behind, Mira and Samuel keeping pace with Xeris and the invalids in the center. The forest was alive with tiny, watching things—eyes glittered between the roots, and sometimes the wind carried a voice that was almost language. Daisy ignored it, focused on her steps, on the locket, on the next impossible choice.
At the river, Oliver took the lead, testing the ice. “If we go one at a time, it’ll hold.”
Daisy went second, feet numb before she hit the halfway mark. The surface gave in places, water seeping up, but she kept her eyes fixed on the far bank, refusing to look back.
When it was Maribel’s turn, Xeris lifted her with impossible gentleness. For a moment, Daisy thought he’d fly them across, but he walked, step by step, as if the cold couldn’t touch him. On the other side, he set Maribel down and wrapped her tighter, tucking the blanket beneath her chin.
Daisy felt the locket burn against her skin.
They pressed on. The trees grew stranger here: bark like twisted muscle, slick with moisture and threaded with patches of luminous moss, while branches arched overhead and braided together in ways that defied logic. The ground exuded a deep, earthy scent mixed with a faint metallic tang, and every footstep sank into a layer of spongy detritus. The air had a chill, prickling Daisy’s skin, and she could hear the soft creak of wood shifting and the distant chirp of unseen insects. The path was not a path, but a feeling—sometimes a patch of bare earth, sometimes nothing at all. Mira stopped twice to sniff the air, as if catching some trace on the wind, then changed course without explanation.
Daisy felt herself start to fade. She hadn’t eaten in a day. The simple cantrips she once conjured—a spark in the palm to light a fire, a rush of warmth to chase back chill, or a nudge to luck so a door would open—had always come easy, drawn from the earth and her own pulse. Now, her magic, once so eager to answer, was sullen and thick, slow to spark even the smallest flame. Each failed attempt reminded her not just of her exhaustion but of all those depending on her power and persistence. She wondered, as her magic burned through the last threads of her strength, whether she would have enough left when it truly mattered—or if she would be the one to fail them at the critical moment. With every step, the weight of expectation pressed harder; each footfall felt like a choice between pushing forward and letting despair win, yet there seemed no path except to keep going, or die.
She realized Oliver had fallen back to walk beside her.
“You alright?” he asked, quietly.
“Define ‘alright,’” Daisy replied, smiling despite herself.
He let the silence stretch. When he finally spoke, his voice snagged a little, thinner than usual. “You think we did the right thing?” He glanced at her sidelong, the question hanging between them, as if for a moment he feared her answer more than anything beyond the trees.
“Doesn’t matter,” Daisy said. “It’s the only thing left.”
He touched her hand. She let him. The warmth was enough to keep her moving.
Xeris watched from the front, his expression unreadable.
They came at last to a clearing: a bowl of moonlight, empty save for one massive willow tree, trunk split and hollowed, branches weeping down to touch the ground. As they stepped forward, a faint creak drifted through the night air—the sound uncanny and wooden, like a door reluctantly swinging shut somewhere far behind them. The hush that followed was so deep it felt final, as if the world itself was holding its breath for what came next. The locket in Daisy’s hand pulsed so hard she thought her skin would split.
Mira pointed. “Here.”
Daisy stepped forward, every hair on her body prickling.
The willow was ancient, its bark marked with a spiral rune—the same shape as the chain, as the daisies, as the ward lines she’d burned into the city’s bones. She pressed her hand to the trunk. The wood shivered, then parted, revealing a hollow just wide enough for a person to step inside.
Daisy looked at her friends, at her family, at the ragged remains of everything she’d ever loved.
She took a steadying breath, driven by a combination of responsibility for her companions and the urgency of their plight, then ducked inside.
The tree swallowed her whole, the darkness inside thicker than the tunnels, thicker than fear. The absence of sight pressed against her eyes until she felt she might choke. Her fingers brushed the inner bark—damp, pulpy, ridged with old scars—and something slick and cold snaked across her knuckles, gone before she could flinch. The air was close, tasting of sap and old rot heavy as syrup, so strong it coated her tongue. Beneath that rose the sour tang of her own sweat and a sudden, unexpected note of wild garlic, sharp and green as a memory of daylight. She felt the locket pull her onward, guiding her steps by the faintest tremor in her palm, until she was lost in black, every sense straining to fill the void.
In the silence, Daisy remembered her mother’s words: Don’t let them have you.
So she didn’t.
She held the locket tight and waited for the world to shift around her, feeling the weight of expectation settle within. In the hush of her own heart, doubt and determination collided, revealing the extent of her internal transformation: she realized she was willing to embrace whatever change was necessary, even to relinquish the self she had known, if that was what it took to ensure the safety of those she loved.