My own heart shatters all over again. I had always known how she died, but watching the life slowly fade from her eyes as Dad lowers her to the ground, his hands covered in her blood, breaks me. “Tell them stories about me, Han. Remind them that it isn’t our magic that makes us, but we—” She goes limp in Dad’s arms.
I blink, realizing I’ve been watching a blend of Mom’s and Dad’s memories, and I’m back in Paltro’s office, out of breath, tears streaming down my face. My heart is pounding against my chest, and my limbs are frozen in place.
Rhea Corvi killed my mother.
Viola. Does she know? Is that why she’s helped us so much? Was any of it real, or was it her guilt pushing her forward? The weight of betrayal threatens to crush my windpipe. Her grandmother killed my mother, because of her mother, because of… her.
No. This can’t be it. I reach for the cup and gulp down the rest.
I don’t know whose memory I land in this time, but it’s the same hazy picture, as if multiple memories have been stitched together.
I’m in the middle of a forest with tall red tree trunks and low black bushes that I don’t recognize. We’re not in Gorhail Woods. We’re in an unfamiliar clearing, and looking at the white deer grazing on the black leaves, I think we’re somewhere in the province of Aurignan. In the middle of the clearing stands a small yellow house with a wraparound veranda.
A little girl plays with the Deathbringer, who beams as she picks her up, whirling her around, hugging her, making her laugh. Out here, she isn’t the Deathbringer from our textbooks; she’s just a mother spending time with her daughter.
A branch cracks, and Alyria sets Viola down.
In a second, she morphs from a loving mother to the legendary mage I know. Scar is perched on her left hand, and the right holds Viola against her leg. A slow shuffle of leaves later, and she lowers her guard.
“Tobias,” she exclaims. “How did you—”
“Why did you leave, Aly?” His voice breaks. When he comes into the frame, I don’t question who he is. Tobias Corvi. Viola’s father.
“I couldn’t do that to her.” She tucks Viola behind her. “She’s a cross-mage, Tobias.”
“Gods, she looks like you.” He kneels, placing his arms on his knees.At first, Viola hesitates, but soon, she runs to him, giggling. He holds her for what seems like hours.
“I know.” The Deathbringer softens, but she doesn’t lower Scar. “But she has your eyes.”
“The whole world is looking for you, Aly,” he says softly. “Come home. We’ll seal her death magic if we need to, but please come home.”
“She has a right to both classes of magic.” Alyria approaches them with caution. Slowly, she kneels in front of him, her hand reaching for his face. “How did you find us? Did Lily tell you?”
“Willow.” He chokes up at the name. Gods, she doesn’t know.
“Lily… and Willow, they…” he trails. “Lily was killed in the cata-combs, likely by poachers. Willow tried to resurrect her, but she released Grimm from Faro’s Cuff instead. My mother sealed her soul across six relics. Everything is falling apart. Han is inconsolable… the children ask for their mother every day…”
“No.” Her hands clasp her mouth, and she shakes her head as tears fill her eyes. “No, Tobias. No.”
Her shoulders shake as she sobs; the air is charged with a raw heartbreak that makesmewant to reach for them. With his free arm, Tobias reaches for her, and she leans against his shoulder, staining his shirt with her tears. Viola plays with her mother’s hair, unaware of all the tragedy around her. My heart shatters at the sight of what could have been for Viola. She deserves this family, not the repugnant excuse of a life she was forced into.
Right when I think the memory is over, a quiet shuffle draws my attention. My hand hovers over the hilt of my dagger, forgetting once more that I stand here, a prisoner of the past, unable to change anything.
Scar’s golden eyes narrow. She slithers down the Deathbringer’s arm, fangs out, ready to strike.
“Mom.” Tobias kisses Viola’s head before handing her over to Alyria. Stepping in front of them in defense, he opens his palm. “What are you doing here?”
“Give me the child,” says Rhea Corvi. “I promise to keep her safe. You do not understand what’s at stake.”
Alyria hugs Viola tighter, shielding her from her grandmother. “I’ve kept her safe and hidden for two years, Rhea. I don’t need help, especially not from a purist.”
Tobias’s fingers move. “Leave, Mother.”
“You do not understand.” Rhea splays her fingers. Around her, an army of undead takes root. “That child is the only way to prevent our world from falling into darkness.”
That child. Viola isn’t an object. Her small hands clutch her mother’s neck, her big brown eyes widening at the undead.
Run, I want to yell. Rhea Corvi hasn’t come to negotiate.