Chapter 26 #2
Ramona was barely holding it together. “A few days.”
“A few—” Zara looked genuinely shocked. “How did you find out? Did Iris finally confess to you?”
Ramona’s confusion shifted to alarm. “Wait, what?”
“What?”
“Iris? What does Iris have to do with this?”
“She’s… the one… at least I’m pretty sure.” Zara’s expression was anguished. “She… she didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what, exactly?”
They stared at each other. Through the tether: confusion, alarm, dawning horror.
“What do you know?” Zara asked carefully.
“What do you know?” Ramona countered.
The fox sat at Ramona’s feet, looking between them.
Zara reached into her pocket. Pulled out something small — a piece of bark, dark and twisted. She turned it over in her hands. “This morning. In your mother’s garden. I saw the tree.”
Ramona eyed the bark, trying to follow. “The… strange dead tree?”
“A banewood tree.” Zara held up the bark. “They’re used to anchor long-term curses. To keep them stable over years, sometimes decades.” She paused. “Ramona, I think you’re cursed.”
Silence. The words hung in the air between them.
Ramona felt as though time had temporarily slowed, like her thoughts were moving through deep quicksand. “I’m sorry? Cursed?”
“Yes.”
“You think I’m cursed.”
“I know you’re cursed.” Zara turned the bark over in her fingers. “I’ve suspected for weeks. But I wasn’t sure. I wanted to be certain before I told you. And this morning, when I saw the tree again—” She met Ramona’s eyes. “I’m sure now. This is banewood. And your mother knows.”
“My mother—”
“Has a curse tree in her garden. A very old one. Carefully maintained.” Zara’s voice was gentle but firm. “I asked her about it. She got defensive. Angry. That’s why we were arguing when we came into the study and found you.”
“My mom cursed me?” Ramona asked.
“No, I believe your sister did,” Zara said, her voice dropping low, like it pained her to say.
Ramona’s mind was reeling. “Iris wouldn’t… she’s my sister…”
“The spell you mentioned that killed the tree when you were kids. When Iris was eleven and you were eight.” Zara stepped closer. “You said she did something to a tree.”
“Yes, but—”
“She didn’t kill it, Ramona. She grew it. Created it.” Zara held up the bark. “Banewood doesn’t grow naturally. It has to be cultivated through ritual magic. A witch plants the curse and anchors it to the earth. As long as the tree stands, the curse stays active.”
“No.” Ramona was shaking her head. “No, you’re wrong. Iris wouldn’t—”
“When did your magic start failing?” Zara asked quietly.
Ramona opened her mouth. Closed it. She didn’t remember. Not exactly. She’d always struggled with magic. For as long as she could remember, it had been hard. Unpredictable. Wrong.
“I think it happened then,” Zara said. “When you were eight. I think Iris cursed you — maybe not understanding what she was doing, maybe out of jealousy or fear. She was eleven. Just a child herself.” She paused.
“That’s insane,” Ramona whispered. “Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t mean to. Maybe it was an accident — a ritual that went wrong, magic she couldn’t control.” Zara’s voice was gentle. “Or maybe she knew exactly what she was doing. Either way, it’s interesting that she became a curse-breaker after that and dedicated her life to it.”
“But why?” Ramona asked, the question directed to no one in particular.
“Maybe to learn how to eventually break what she’d done.” Zara held up the bark again. “I wanted to be certain before I told you. But this morning, seeing that tree, seeing your mother’s reaction when I questioned it — I’m certain now.”
Ramona sat down hard on the fallen log. The fox pressed against her leg. “My entire life,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“Twenty-seven years since then.”
Zara nodded, pocketing the bark.
“And you think my sister — my sister who has always been so perfect… You think she did it.” The implications crashed over Ramona in waves.
Every time Iris had helped her. Every time she’d defended Ramona to the Council, convinced them not to strip her magic, been there after Simone left and Thornwood expelled her.
Had that all been guilt? Iris trying to make up for what she’d done?
“I don’t want to believe it,” Ramona said, but her voice was hollow.
“You don’t have to. Not yet.” Zara knelt in front of her. “But we can find out. The restricted archives will have curse identification texts. We can verify the signature. See if I’m right.”
“And if you are?”
“Then we break it.”
Ramona’s hands were shaking. “I can’t… I can’t process this.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Zara’s voice was thick with guilt. “I should have told you sooner. Or I should have had more proof before I said anything, but I couldn’t keep it from you any longer.”
Through the tether, Ramona felt Zara’s sincerity. Her fear that she’d made the wrong call. Her desperate need for Ramona to understand.
Silence fell. Ramona stared at the corrupted convergence point, at the spreading darkness that mirrored the darkness she’d been carrying inside herself for twenty-seven years without even knowing it.
“But maybe I’m not… broken,” she said finally. Testing the words.
“No,” Zara said quietly.
“Maybe I never was broken.”
“No.”
“Someone did this to me. Maybe Iris. Maybe someone else. But someone cursed a child.” Ramona’s voice was flat. “Watched her struggle for twenty-seven years.”
She stood. The fox rose with her.
Ramona looked at Zara, then at the corrupted stones, then back to Zara. Her jaw set.
“We break into Thornwood tonight.” Her voice was steady, certain. “I’ve spent twenty-seven years feeling broken, and that ends right now.”
Through the tether, she felt Zara’s fierce pride. Her determination matching Ramona’s own.
“Tonight,” Zara agreed.
Ramona stared out at the corrupted stones, at the spreading darkness, and felt something shift inside her. Not hope, exactly. Not yet. But something close to it.
What could she have been without the curse? What could she be now, if they broke it?
“We should get back,” Zara said quietly. “Tell the others the timeline just moved up. We have a lot to prepare for tonight.”
Ramona nodded. Turned away from the convergence point.
The fox followed at her heels, and Zara’s hand found hers, warm and steady.
Tonight they’d break into Thornwood. Tonight she’d find answers. She was more determined than ever.