Chapter 160 Traitor Unmasked Part 4
It wasn’t a decision; it was a fact. Daisy stood above the scrying pool, veins gone black up to her jaw, and said, “We split here.” No voice waver, no chance to argue. It was the only way: break the chain, scatter the pattern, force Vex and his pretty little monster to chase too many trails at once. If they didn't, Vex would catch them all, twisting Daisy's power into his own, and nothing—no one—would be safe. The balance of the city, her friends' lives, and maybe even the last resistance against Vex’s rule all hung on what she chose tonight.
She split the teams alley-rat style, each choice a cut: Delia and Mira with Maribel and Xeris, heading north toward Delia’s so-called sanctuary. Cornelius and Oliver broke south with Daisy, making noise, setting traps, drawing the Emperor’s Shadow, and the blood-echo.
Delia grabbed Daisy’s arm. “You can’t beat him alone, Pest. Even a hundred of you couldn’t. You know he’ll kill you, right?”
Daisy grinned, razor-thin. "Not here to kill him. Just to keep him busy."
Mira eyed Daisy. "You’re burning out. Keep this up, you’ll be nothing but root and curse."
Daisy shrugged. “Good thing I never planned to retire.”
Cornelius glanced at the hall, blade ready. “Better than rotting in a hole.”
Xeris rumbled, "You leave, you don’t return. You know that?"
Daisy stroked his snout, leaving black on gold. “Never been good at staying.”
Maribel sat, blanket pooled around her thin body. She looked smaller than Daisy remembered—a child in grown grief. When Daisy knelt, Maribel’s hand fluttered up, fingers tracing Daisy’s dark veins.
Maribel whispered, "Don’t let it eat you. Your father did, and almost lost everything."
Daisy blinked. “He was—?”
Maribel pressed the locket into Daisy’s palm. “He never stopped fighting. He just forgot why.”
Daisy didn’t have words for that. She just squeezed Maribel’s hand until the bones shifted under the skin, then stood, locket clutched in her fist.
Oliver shouldered his bag, eyes never leaving Daisy. He didn’t reach for her this time, just nodded, like they’d already said every goodbye worth saying.
Delia tried to cry, but it stuck in her throat.
Mira whispered something over Maribel’s head—protective, ancient, almost a benediction.
Elder Fern, forgotten by the pool, simply watched, eyes red and raw.
As their group scattered to pack, a deep rumble echoed through the cave—a warning that the ground itself was about to split.
The collapse was Vex’s work—the pattern burnt clear. Suddenly, the walls warped. Veins of fungus snapped and sizzled. The roof trembled, a low moan pulsing through the tunnels. Chain-magic surged in Daisy’s blood: hot and heavy, every link inside her humming with tension. She knew the rules. Chain-magic forged a metaphysical tether—a connection requiring pain or memory as its price, drawing strength from sacrifice. This tether allowed the initiator to control any bound consciousness. The more she resisted, the tighter it bit back. Her will strained against Vex’s intent. The pressure built, prickling her skin like iron filings drawn to a magnet.
As the collapse deepened behind them, Mira hustled Maribel and Delia down the left tunnel. Xeris followed, talons scraping sparks from the stone.
At the same moment, Daisy, Oliver, and Cornelius veered right, leaving the collapsing tunnel for the uncertain openness beyond.
Behind them, Elder Fern slipped into the shadows, gone before anyone could say a word.
The ceramic daisy in Daisy’s fist grew hotter. She kept her thumb pressed against its rough glaze, using the pain to keep her head clear.
Aboveground, as they emerged from twisting passages, the wind slapped them with a blast of cold. Cornelius took point, slicing through brambles. Oliver kept a hand on Daisy’s arm, ready to catch her if she fell.
Daisy moved in a trance—every nerve was a live wire, every thought funneled into the drive to outpace the magic chewing at her insides.
As dusk fell and they crested the last ridge, the ruins of Brightwater came into view—a white stone scar in the blue valley below. Daisy slowed, breathing hard, hands shaking.
Oliver grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at him. “You still with me?”
She tried to smile, but couldn’t. “Mostly.”
He held her gaze. “If you feel it taking over—if you feel yourself going—”
“Kill me?” Daisy finished. “You won’t get the chance.”
Cornelius laughed, a sharp bark. “That’s more like it.”
Later that evening, once they had skirted the ridge, the moon rose, and the valley turned silver, full of movement—lines of Veilseekers in white, patrolling, sweeping the ruins, calling to each other with bird-cries. There was no subtlety. They wanted Daisy to see them.
At the edge of the old city, Daisy slowed, touched the locket again. The ceramic daisy thrummed with every heartbeat.
“They’re waiting,” Cornelius said. “Want us to come to them?”
Daisy wiped the sweat and blood from her face. “Let’s not disappoint.”
They moved quickly, threading through rubble and alleys where Daisy once ran as a child. The air was thick with dust and burnt stone, shadows stretching with distant fires. Every landmark was a trap now: the bakery with shattered windows, the old fountain tinged green. Echoes of laughter and memories mixed with danger.
They moved through the war-torn streets until they reached the old library—a shell now, the roof caved in, but the cellar stairs still intact. Daisy led the way, Oliver close behind, Cornelius covering the rear.
At the bottom, Daisy collapsed, spine against a broken shelf, world spinning around her.
Oliver crouched and cradled her face in his hands. “Talk to me.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, she handed him the locket.
He turned it over, ran a thumb across the flower. “What do you want me to do?”
Daisy closed her eyes. "If I don’t come back, destroy it. Burn it. Smash it. Whatever it takes."
Oliver set his jaw. “That’s not the plan.”
Daisy laughed, but it was a brittle sound. “Plans change.”
He tucked the locket away. “You always want the last word.”
Cornelius cleared his throat. “We have company.”
Footsteps echoed in the stone stairwell. Three figures—Veilseekers, faces hidden behind mirrored masks, their movements inhumanly smooth. Cornelius drew his blade and planted himself between Daisy and the stairs.
Oliver stood, knife in each hand.
Daisy felt the chain pulse. Black had reached her chin; she tasted it—bitter as poison.
She pulled herself upright. “Let’s go, then.”
The first Veilseeker lunged. Cornelius parried, then buried his sword in the thing’s gut. Black smoke poured out, but it kept moving, clawing at his eyes. Oliver took the second one, knives flashing, tearing at the seams of its armor. He moved fast, but the Veilseeker matched him, blow for blow.
The third ignored them both, coming straight for Daisy.
She didn’t flinch, but her insides recoiled; fear spiked, hot and sudden, burning beneath her skin as the chain in her blood sang, tuning itself to the magic in the Veilseeker’s veins. She felt the magic seeking her, pressing at the edges of her consciousness, and dread gathered in her chest—panic threatening to root her feet to the ground. In that suspended moment, her mind raced: was this what Vex had wanted, for her to confront a shadow carved from her own power? Confusion and revulsion tangled behind her eyes as she realized she was staring at something intimately familiar and fundamentally wrong. Still, she forced herself to grab its wrist, refusing to retreat, and felt the shock of recognition jolt through her. This was the duplicate—born of her own flesh and blood.
It smiled at her, face perfectly blank.
Daisy’s hands closed around its throat. The chain went wild, black and blue lightning arcing between them.
For a second, Daisy thought she would die right there.
Instead, the duplicate spasmed, then exploded into ash and smoke.
Daisy fell to her knees, shuddering.
Oliver and Cornelius finished the others, then pulled her to her feet.
Cornelius whistled. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Daisy wiped her face, leaving a smear of black on her sleeve. “Neither did I.”
Oliver looked at her, real fear in his eyes now. “You okay?”
She wanted to say yes. Instead, she said, “Let’s move.”
With the immediate threat behind them, the three wound deeper into the catacombs, the darkness alive with the echo of pursuit. The locket in Oliver’s pocket pulsed with every step, a heartbeat outside Daisy’s body. For a split second, Daisy remembered the first time she’d seen it—her mother pressing it into her palm at the city’s edge, warning her never to open it unless she was willing to pay the price. Even now, the power bound beneath the ceramic flower felt hungry, thrumming in time with her racing blood.
They reached the old cistern, the exit to the city. Ahead, the night was thick with fog and rain, but the way was clear.
Oliver touched Daisy’s shoulder. “Last chance to back out.”
She shook her head. “After what they did? After what they made me? No.”
He took her hand and squeezed it hard. “We do this together.”
Cornelius grunted, “If you two are done—”
Daisy grinned, ugly and bright. “Not even close.”
Together, they stepped from the old cistern into the night. The heavy fog rolled over them, swallowing the exit and muffling every sound, signaling their true flight from the ruined city.
Far above them, on a hill overlooking the fog-choked ruins, Vex Mordain watched the city.
Beside him, the duplicate—her duplicate—reformed, skin knitting over bone, magic binding it tight. Its eyes found Daisy in the fog, and it smiled again.
Vex whispered, “Come home, Daisy. Come show me your teeth.”
The chain in her blood sang, louder than ever.
Daisy kept walking.
She would not break. Whatever the chain in her blood demanded, whatever hunger Vex had tried to plant inside her, Daisy clung to the memory of her friends, to the tiny flame of hope that all this pain still meant something. Not breaking meant keeping hold of herself, and of the love and vengeance that had carried her this far.
Not yet.