Page 112 of Foresyth Conservatory
Her words cut through my regret, clearing the fog of disappointment. Nina had turned something that I held sacred—knowledge—into something twisted and unholy. Just as the Meister had. I could understand her grief over her parents, but not at the cost of her humanity.
I knew I’d be sitting with the grief of our friendship long after the cut on my side healed.
“My instinct knew it,” I said. “She was working with the Meister, hoping for a share of the power for her necromancy. Aspen wasn’t the one who poisoned me that first day—it was her. She framed him to throw me off.”
“And it worked.” Aspen smirked.
“It did work. But when I met her down in the tunnels near that creature that bit me, I knew she was up to something. Those poor creatures . . . they weren’t alive. They wereanimated, soulless. She should have known that she couldn’t bring back her parents. At least, not in the same way as they were before.”
“If she was doing unauthorized experiments, the Council will deal with her too, in time,” Sequoia said. “She really believed killing you would give her power. Killingallof us.Who knows what lies the Meister fed her about giving her immunity,” Sequoia said.
Aspen looked away as Sequoia spoke. I noted that there was an irony to her words. She and Aspen risked the very same almost a year ago, and it led to Julian’s death. They were bound to the school through their parents’ debt, yes, but that did not change the fact they were complicit in Julian’s death.
“You should rest, Dahlia.” Aspen turned back to me, placing a cool hand on my forehead.
“The Meister. What happened to him?” I managed.
Aspen and Sequoia exchanged a look, almost like they were sharing a joke. “He won’t be at Foresyth any longer. Thanks to that switchbox you rigged, the Council convicted him on charges of false practice and endangering students. Julian’s letters are going to be used to charge him with murder,” Aspen said.
“So, he’ll be going to prison?”
“Not exactly. The Council has its own authority for dealing with magickal crimes. Though, I suspect his magick has been significantly weakened since the Book was destroyed,” Aspen explained. “And we have you to thank for that, Dahlia,” he said. “I’m so proud of you.” He made a point to catch my eye before turning to Sequoia. “Both of you.” He tipped her chin up.
When she pulled away, Sequoia’s eyes were glistening, a small smile on her lips.
“I’ll never forget the sight of you toppling down that tree,” I mused. “How did you do it?”
“It was nothing. I think the House gave me the idea; it was already bending its way toward the Meister. I used the last ofmy power granted by the Shattered Mother to coax its roots from the ground.”
“You saved me,” I said.
“We all saved each other,” she said, taking my hand along with Aspen’s.
Relief, like fresh snow, settled on me. I didn’t ask any other questions. I let the warmth radiating from our intertwined hands ground me and I allowed myself to feel safe. With that forsaken Book gone, the Meister and his followers were no longer my concern. I’d completed my father’s work and avenged my brother. My responsibility was over.
“Do you think . . . you’ll come back to Foresyth once you’re healed?” Sequoia asked. “I think the Al-Ahmar will be the interim Meister.”
My stomach knotted at the mention of her name. I still didn’t know how I felt about the Al-Ahmar. I didn’t have time to unravel the knots that she held with my family’s history. But one thing I was certain of was that my history with Foresyth was coming to an end.
I stared into Sequoia’s deep brown eyes, seeing her for what she truly was—not delicate, not in need of saving, but a force that was ancient and rooted. She had always seemed otherworldly, a figure spun from mist and moonlight, but now I understood. She was not fragile, she was formidable. The kind of strength that didn’t demand but endured.
My gaze shifted to Aspen, his sharp edges softened by her presence, his fire tempered by her quiet gravity. He had always been her protector, her mentor, her lover. But love wasn’t about protection, not really. It was about adaptation. Growth. I wondered how they would shift for each otherover time, how they would bend and rise together, just as the canopy of trees twist and tangle, molding themselves to make space for one another—not caged, but entwined.
Aspen and Sequoia would continue to shift and grow, their roots tangled, bound to this place. But I was something else entirely—something that had never been meant to stay. Maybe I was a seed caught in the wind, drifting toward something new.
For the first time, that didn’t feel like being lost. It felt like being free.
“I don’t have a purpose at Foresyth anymore. I learned what I came to learn,” I said, seeing her eyes fall. “But we’ll stay in touch. You’ll write to me.”
“Of course,” she said, taking a deep breath before leaning down to hug me. Even her slight weight pressed too much on my side, and I winced. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, pulling back, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’m just so glad you’re alive.”
The curtain drew back, and a man in a white coat, glasses perched on his nose, stepped in. The creases beside his lips suggested he was good-humored, despite his profession.
“Lucky thing she is,” he said. “When these two brought you in they said you fell down a flight of stairs and landed on a metal railing. This journal”—he held up a blood-stained book—“is the only reason it didn’t pierce your liver.”
I’d been wearing it on my belt when Nina attacked me. Her dagger had pierced the book, saving me from a deeper wound.
“Let’s fix those stitches before the police come in,” he said, approaching my side. “Your friends can stay for now, but when the officer arrives, they’ll have to leave.”
