Page 110 of Foresyth Conservatory
I emptied the contents of my father’s metallic case onto the flames. The Meister screamed in defiance, but I ignored him. The soil fell in dark clumps, mingling with the embers and smothering the fire. The room darkened as the last of the light disappeared, and for a moment, there was only stillness.
Then the soil began to work.
A hiss filled the air as the black earth settled onto the obsidian, eating into it like a living thing. The Book resisted, trembling as if alive, but the corrosion was relentless, and the black mass cracked, groaned, and then split. I smiled, watching the pages darken and disintegrate, curling into ash. Smoke rose in curling wisps, carrying with it the acrid scent of the Book’s destruction.
The Book—its power, its horrors—was undone.
For the first time since entering the House, I exhaled. The weight that had clung to me since I first set foot in Foresythlifted. Relief coated me, soft and unfamiliar, yet wholly mine.
I wasn’t like my father. I didn’t needThe Book of Skornor any other ancient relic to tell me who I was. The knowledge I craved wasn’t buried in libraries or hoarded by elite institutions. It wasn’t written on pages or carved in stone.
It was inme.
I turned to the toppled Meister. “The soil on your grounds is laced with an alchemical acid. The Book was forged, in part, with it. In small amounts, it’s hallucinogenic, like what you add to the concoctions here. But in higher concentrations, it eats through anything organic—and anything similar to itself in composition. In other words, likedissolveslike,” I said, gesturing to the pile of ash behind me.
The look on the Meister’s face was priceless. He struggled against the tree, blood seeping from his arm.
“You foul girl! Without the Book, the ceremony cannot be completed. The House will never return to the power of its former legacy,” he wept.
A part of me softened, almost feeling his longing—not just for power, but for the order he believed the House once held, perhaps even for the version my father had known Foresyth to be.
“I should have killed you sooner,” he growled. And then all my sympathy vanished.
“But you couldn’t, could you?” I retorted. “I was the Bonder. The Book needed my blood to complete the elemental ceremony.”
His expression twisted.
“Julian left me a little goodbye present,” I said, holding up the letters from him and my father. “I know you planned to use us to complete the ceremony. Did you really think a daughter of Detective Blackburne wouldn’t discover your ploy?”
“I thought you’d be just as useless as your father,” he sneered, and my blood boiled over. “I’m glad I killed him when I had the chance. And no one suspected that he didn’t end his pitiful life himself.” The Meister tried to laugh, but only a wet gurgling sound came out.
The horror pierced me like a dagger. My father hadn’t died by his own hand. He had died by the Meister’s manipulation, by his coaxing of the air around his fingers to pull the trigger.
“You were all supposed to die, every single one of you,” he spat at us.
“You idiot,” Nina hissed, her voice trembling with rage as she appeared behind me. She dropped to her knees beside the fireplace, clawing at the pile of ash and scorched debris left behind. “You destroyed the Book,” she choked, her words breaking as her hands sifted through the embers. When she turned to face me, the raw hatred etched on her face was feral, almost inhuman. It cut through me like ice. “This was my only chance.”
“You were working with him,” I spat, still catching my breath. “You told him about the fire—the plan to burn it. You poisoned the rim of our cups.” That was why I had instructed everyone— everyone except Nina—to don the jelly on their lips. I hadn’t wanted it to be true but had instructed them just in case. I’m glad I did.
“The coating of mugwort mixed with nightshade should have paralyzed you,” she murmured, speaking to herself.Her eyes darted to the shattered cups scattered across the room. Her hands dove back into the ashes, heedless of the heat, and the stench of burning flesh wafted up as she clawed at the remnants. Her desperation was almost as horrifying as her malice. “But you didn’t die . . . why didn’t you die?” she whispered, her voice shaking.
“You were working with the Meister from the beginning.” My voice steadied, each word sharper than the last. “That tea on my first day, you poisoned it, not Aspen. You blamed him. You had looked up the truth serum in the library, that’s why the book had been plucked out that night in the library. And those creatures in the lab . . . you were trying to bring them back, weren’t you? To bring back your parents?”
“Why did you have to ruin it, Dahlia?” she shrieked, threading her fingers through her hair like she was trying to rip it from her scalp. Her nails left streaks of ash and blood across her face. Her whole body trembled as she lunged for the altar, grabbing something from its surface. “I was so close to fixing everything.”
“Nina—” I began, but she spun toward me, her hand clutching the athame, the blade glinting wickedly in the light of the fading embers.
“You took away the only chance I had!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she charged.
It all happened too fast.
The flash of steel, her feral cry, and the crushing realization that I couldn’t move in time. I twisted to avoid her, but the blade found its mark, plunging into my side with a sickening force. Pain shot through me, hot and searing, as blood bloomed black at my side, hot and syrupy. My breathhitched, my eyes locking on hers. Aspen lurched toward her to contain her anger, but it was too late.
“Oh God, Dahlia,” Nina gasped, her rage fracturing into horror as she stumbled backwards away from me. “I—I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, falling to her knees again. “I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry.”
My legs gave out beneath me. The room tilted, shadows closing in, but I didn’t hit the ground. A pair of arms caught me—gentle, steady.
“Shhh,” a voice murmured, low and soothing. Sequoia. She was beside me, pressing down on the wound with both hands. “Stay with me, Dahlia. Just stay with me.”
