Chapter 132 The Search for Allies Part 1
The mountains tried to kill them with every step. Each stone, each gasp, every cut of wind pressed Daisy toward a choice she hadn’t named yet. Here, above the world, something in the rock seemed eager to strip them down and shape what remained. The path wasn’t just dangerous—it wanted her soul as much as her life.
They hiked in single file. Gravel skids. Lungs burn. Every breath thinner than the last, scraped raw by the climb. The air was knife-cold, alive with secrets. Murmurs of the city's fall pressed against her skull. The dying shriek of a world Daisy was supposed to save. The wind cut through her coat like she’d stitched it from regret.
At first, the group stuck close: Cornelius led, his stride never hesitating even when the drop beside the trail was a hundred feet or more. He never let on how much he worried, but Daisy knew he’d taken charge because he couldn’t stand to lose one more person on his watch. Mira followed, silent and steady, navigating by memory or by some trick of the mind Daisy would never trust. Mira rarely spoke, but she kept herself between the others and the shadows, as if repaying an old debt to Daisy that she'd never discussed. Xeris drifted in the middle, always between Daisy and danger, though she couldn’t tell if he did it on purpose or by instinct. There was something protective about him that made Daisy grateful and unsettled in equal measure, a kind of loyalty born not just of magic but of their tangled past together.
Delia and Maribel moved slowest, a tangle of arms and borrowed strength; Delia gripped Maribel’s elbow to steady her, while Maribel matched each stride with careful determination, the quiet exchange between them almost a language of resilience. Oliver played sweeper at the rear, shooing loose stones from under their boots and offering jokes that fizzled in the high air, though his watchful glances showed more concern than he let on.
They moved like this for hours, each curve in the trail revealing another valley, another reminder of how small they’d become.
When the sun hit its peak, Cornelius called a halt in a notch between two crags. “Five minutes,” he said, but the way he sagged against the rock made it clear they’d take more. In the hush, the wind threaded through the stones, a high, wavering whistle that seemed to grow sharper each time they rested. It was the same sound that had dogged every pause, wearing at their nerves as surely as the climb had worn at their bodies.
Daisy flopped down, unbuttoned her coat, and found the locket pressing a bruise into her collarbone. It wasn’t just weight; it was heat, like the metal remembered the forge and resented the cold. She cradled it in her palm, thumb circling the edge where the dragons entwined. Mira had called it a curse the night Daisy won it from a red-eyed merchant on the city’s last market day, and even Cornelius muttered about lost heirlooms whenever it caught the sunlight. The closer she looked, the more the thing seemed to move—a trick of the metal, or maybe just the way exhaustion turned every shadow to a threat.
She risked a glance at Xeris, who was crouched ten yards away, profile sharp against the sky. His eyes found hers, predatory and patient, but not unkind. She looked away, caught Oliver pretending not to watch her, and felt the locket pulse, once, in her hand.
Curiosity chewed at her. Daisy popped the catch, expecting to see a photo or a curl of her mother’s hair.
Inside, a single daisy petal—white, edged with brown, the heart yellowed with age. It should have crumbled, but it looked fresh, as if Maribel had plucked it yesterday and folded it away for safekeeping.
She touched the petal.
It beat.
Thump. Then stillness. Thump. Another pause. Her heart tripped over itself, matching the petal. Beat. Wait. Beat. The rhythm of her chest caught and stuttered, echoing the three-word warning, the hush that followed.
Daisy swallowed. She didn’t know if the others could hear it, but the rhythm was deafening to her.
She looked closer at the metal frame. The dragon heads at the hinge had their mouths open, fangs bared, as if they guarded the secret inside. The eyes were garnet chips, so dark they looked black unless the sun hit just right. For a second, Daisy swore they watched her.
She tried to close the locket. The catch stuck. When she forced it, the iron snapped shut on her finger, sharp as a dog’s bite.
“Fuck,” Daisy hissed, more annoyed than hurt. A bead of blood swelled on her fingertip. She wiped it on her shirt, but a single drop splattered on the petal.
She didn’t even have time to curse before the world twisted sideways.