Nytheria is deteriorating. I’m returning. We’ll speak when you’re finished.
I don’t wait for a response.
By the time the Velcryn guards realize I’ve left the guest wing, I am already on horseback, riding east.
Nytheria greets me with silence.The forest feels strained, the pulse beneath the soil uneven. The air carries the faint metallic tang I’ve begun to associate with corruption. My wards at the border flicker when I cross them, dimming momentarily before righting themselves.
That alone tells me this was not natural decay. This was interference.
The coven gathers quickly when word spreads of my return. Their relief is palpable, but it’s threaded with unease, and suspicion. Murmurs that halt when I approach. I walk through them without slowing.
My mother steps forward. She looks older than she did a week ago. The lines around her mouth are deeper, her shoulderstighter beneath ceremonial robes she hasn’t bothered to change out of.
“In my chambers,” she says quietly. “Now.”
The crowd parts. Inside, the doors seal behind us with a muted pulse of ward-light.
“It isn’t natural,” she says immediately, pacing once before turning back to me. “The collapse was too precise. The ley nodes didn’t fray, they inverted. As if someone fed the roots something that knew exactly where to bite.”
“Poison?” I ask.
“Yes. But guided.”
The word settles heavy between us.
“You think it’s internal,” I say.
She nods once. “It has to be. No external force could navigate our wards that cleanly without assistance.”
My chest tightens. “Who?”
Her mouth presses into a thin line. “I don’t know.” A pause. “But someone with authority. Access to the lower root systems. Knowledge of the restoration plan.”
My mind begins narrowing the circle automatically. My mother hesitates, which is unlike her.
“Vira has been… vocal,” she continues carefully. “Questioning the Velcryn anchors. Suggesting we’ve invited imbalance. She was in the eastern ward corridor the night the rot returned.”
“That alone isn’t guilt.”
“No,” she agrees. “But she’s too composed. Too prepared with explanations.”
Silence stretches.
“You suspect her,” I say.
“I suspect ambition,” my mother replies. “And Vira has always believed Nytheria was losing itself.”
She steps closer, lowering her voice.
“If this is treachery, it won’t be impulsive. It will be calculated. You cannot accuse without proof.”
“I won’t,” I say.
But I already know where I’m going next. When I am outside I walk straight to the first Purna I recognize.
“Where is Elder Vira?” I ask.
The girl hesitates half a heartbeat too long.