Chapter 158 Traitor Unmasked Part 2
When Oliver slid back into the cavern, he brought the whole storm with him. His coat was plastered to his skin. Hair dripped in rat’s tails across his eyes. He tracked a snaking trail of water past the blue fungus until he reached Daisy. He didn’t say her name—just knelt beside her, hands braced on knees, head bowed to the ground.
She felt, more than saw, the way his fingers hovered an inch from hers, his hand trembling in hesitation. He wanted to touch her, reaching out before stopping short. But he remembered the burn from last time. The black in her veins had climbed his wrist. Daisy's magic thrived on blood, drawing power from her wounds. Sometimes it lashed outward like a living thing. If another person touched the lines of darkness, the curse could seep into them, carried by the blood. It had only just stopped before reaching his heart. He wasn’t scared of it; he feared what Daisy would do to herself if it happened again.
She grinned, lips splitting, and said, “You look like you lost a bet.”
He snorted and swiped water from his brow. "It’s a mess out there. Ironclaw’s got every pass sealed, and there’s a Veilseeker circle at each one."
“Are they searching, or waiting?”
Oliver looked up. For a moment, she caught the old light in his eyes—sharp, alive, not quite broken. “Not searching. They’re… setting up. Each exit is ringed with chalk and blood. The whole ritual kit. Something big. Like they’re prepping to drain the whole valley at once.”
Daisy flexed her hands, winced at the stiffness in her fingers. “So we’re not getting out the way we came.”
Oliver shook his head. “Unless you sprout wings. Which—” He glanced over his shoulder at Xeris, sprawled behind them, motionless except for the shallow rise of his ribs. “No offense to our friend.”
Xeris’s tail flicked in acknowledgment, but even this small movement cost him; his body tensed, and Daisy saw the pain vibrate through his whole frame.
Cornelius stalked the perimeter, hand tight around his blade. “If they mean to root us out, they’ll starve us first. They have the numbers.”
“Numbers aren’t everything,” Mira said, not looking up from where she sat tending Maribel. “Magic isn’t math.”
Delia groaned and rolled her head against the wall. “We’re sitting ducks.”
Daisy didn’t argue. She felt pressure on the world, like a boot grinding down. Their safety depended not on trust or solidarity. It depended on the others’ reluctance to enter a cave where hidden motives and unresolved loyalties haunted every shadow. This was the last link in a murder chain that might still turn on itself.
It didn’t matter. The waiting would kill them before the Veilseekers got a chance.
Elder Fern arrived, walking with a limp and leaning heavily on her staff. The woman’s face was pinched, skin sagging off the bones, but her eyes were sharp as obsidian. She looked at the group, counted them, then found Daisy with her gaze.
She sat beside Daisy, groaning as her knees bent. “You are the youngest and the oldest, all at once,” she said, voice a brittle whisper. “It’s a curse. Or a promotion.”
Daisy managed a smile. “I never wanted either.”
Elder Fern put her hand carefully on Daisy’s knee. The touch was soft, dry, and lighter than Daisy expected, as if Fern was cautious with her strength.
“I’ve seen a lot of ends,” Fern said. “Not many new starts.”
Daisy turned her face away, watching the bioluminescent veins worming through the wall. “If you have a plan, spit it.”
Fern grunted. “We split up. Scatter in the storm. Some of us will make it out. They won’t know which way to chase.”
Cornelius barked a laugh. “That’s not a plan. That’s a death wish.”
Fern didn’t flinch. “Better than all of us dying together.”
Mira shook her head. “No. The Emperor wants Daisy. No one else matters.”
Daisy felt the shift in the air—a warning, like the drop before a landslide. She instinctively let her hand drift to the locket under her shirt. The ceramic daisy in its center throbbed, burning a spot against her skin. For a moment, she remembered the day her mother gave it to her. She pressed it into Daisy’s palm with trembling fingers before the world went dark. It was supposed to be a charm for luck, something to remember home by. Now it felt more like a tether. It always pulsed when danger got close.
She pulled the locket out, staring at the tiny flower in her palm. It looked like just a kid’s trinket—white glaze gone gray with years—but right now it radiated heat. It seemed to want her attention, almost insisting. She flipped it open and closed it in her hand, feeling the persistent rhythm.
Delia watched her, eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
Daisy didn’t answer. Instinct kicked in—deep, feral, the kind of knowledge she’d never learned but always carried. She reached over to Delia’s pack, grabbed the glass vial, and bit the cork free. She poured a line of the powder into her palm. Taking her knife, she nicked her thumb and mixed the powder with her blood. She smeared the mixture into a quick, jagged symbol on her wrist.
The pain was instant. Absolute. The chain in her veins screamed. Black lines exploded up her arm, licking across her collar and crawling up her neck. Every heartbeat pushed them higher. Her head snapped back; she heard her own skull crack against the cave wall.
Oliver growled, tightening his grip on her shoulder. "What are you doing?"
She bared her teeth, shaking him off. “Making sure we’re not being played.”
The magic in her blood responded with visceral intensity. Red mist seeped from her pores and hissed faintly as it unfurled into the damp cavern air. The scent was metallic, sharp as fresh-spilled blood. The mist twisted around stalagmites and drifted over rough stone, leaving droplets that steamed and etched faint trails. It wound around the others, chilling skin and pricking at old scars. The magic searched for hidden truths beneath flesh. It was a truth spell, but not the gentle kind Mira used. Mira’s magic settled slowly as snowfall—cool and weightless. It urged truth quietly, never forcing it. Daisy’s, in contrast, was raw, hungry, and feral. This magic scalded with its heat and grit. It dug in with invisible claws and demanded answers, tearing secrets into the open.
Daisy looked at Fern and saw the old woman’s body shimmer. For a half-second, Fern was doubled: one version frail and stooped, the other younger, cruel, traced with tiny silver tattoos under the skin. They swirled up from her knuckles to her temple.
Daisy reached forward, grabbed Fern’s hand tightly, and felt the chain in her arm pulse as she did. Instantly, the world around them seemed to slow.
“How long?” Daisy asked, blood leaking from her nose.
Fern’s mouth twisted. “Since before you arrived. Since before you were born.”
Delia cursed and tried to crawl away, but Mira pinned her with a glare. "What did you do, Fern?"
Fern’s face collapsed in on itself, her jaw shaking. “It’s the only way. They promised—promised to leave the valley alone. All I had to do was bring her to the root. That’s all.” For a moment, her voice was threaded with despair. “I watched this land burn before, Daisy. My own children fell to it. The valley’s given me nothing but grief, but it’s the last piece of home I have. If betraying you meant I could keep these hills safe, at least for a little while, I thought I could live with that. I told myself it was just one more sacrifice. I told myself I had no choice.”
Daisy felt the world lurch sideways. Every conversation, every kind word, every gentle correction from Fern slammed into her at once. They were now reframed as manipulation.
“You’re Veilseeker,” Daisy spat, bile rising in her throat.
Fern shook her head, furious and weeping. “No. Not anymore. Not since the chain first broke. But I remember the old ways.”
Cornelius pressed the tip of his sword to Fern’s neck. “Why not just kill her? Why the show?”
Fern sobbed, then coughed. “Because she’s the only one who can finish it. If the chain doesn’t take, it snaps back. Kills everyone. They want her to anchor it. To be the new root.”
Daisy’s jaw locked. “And if I run?”
Fern’s smile was fractured. “They hunt you forever. Every generation. Never stops.”
Daisy tried to stand, her legs giving out beneath her. Oliver stepped in quickly and caught her, holding her upright.
The mist cleared. The old woman looked smaller, more broken.
Daisy wanted to hate her, but all she felt was exhaustion.
Mira moved to Daisy’s side, voice soft. “If you die here, the whole valley dies with you. That’s the trick.”
Daisy’s head spun. “So I just let it happen? Anchor the chain for them? Let them keep doing this forever?”
Fern shook her head. “No. You break it, for good. But you die with it. The root burns itself out.”
Cornelius cursed. “This is madness.”
Delia crawled to Daisy, clutching her ankle. “Don’t do it, Pest. There’s got to be another way.”
Daisy crouched, smoothing Delia’s hair with her non-bloody hand. “It’s fine. I’m not planning on dying. Not today.”
She looked at Oliver, saw the way his jaw was clenched, the fear in his eyes. She tried to smile. “You ever want to run away?”
He nodded once, jaw tight.
She grinned, blood flecking her lips. “Me too.”
She wiped her face, smearing more black. “We wait till morning. Then we move. All of us, together. The old tunnels under the south ridge are still dry, even with the rain. If we take the narrow path above the fungus beds, we can reach the split before dawn and slip through Ironclaw's lines. Xeris knows the old paths. He can lead us as far as the river. After that, we move fast and stay off the stone crossings. If the Veilseekers are watching, they’ll expect us to break for the main valley. But we’ll cut east through the hollow and disappear in the mist.”
Cornelius looked at Fern, then at Daisy. “You sure about this?”
Daisy shrugged. “I’m tired of being scared.”
She looked at the locket in her palm. The ceramic daisy was cool now, the warning spent.
Mira knelt beside her, wrapping a steady hand around Daisy’s shoulder. “You’re not alone,” she said.
Daisy closed her eyes, felt the pain recede. For a moment, the world was silent. The only sound was the drip of water and the faint rumble of Xeris’s breath.
She held the moment and let it steady her.
Their decision was resolute: at dawn, they would set their plan into motion, embracing the uncertainties ahead with collective resolve.
And whatever waited outside, Daisy would meet it head-on.
She owed herself that much.