Chapter 36
One Year Later
In the early morning hours, Eliza and I take a carriage to Almanac’s Boarding School. Dewdrops glitter on the grass, and fog rolls over the hills of Credence. The brisk chill of winter has come early this year. I pull the fur-lined edge of my cloak tighter beneath my chin.
I wear a sapphire-blue dress with a laced silver bodice and a full-bodied skirt.
My hair loses some of its auburn shine as the days grow shorter, but my freckles never fade.
With trembling fingers, I tug on the pendant of my necklace.
Engraved with the Damarcus family sigil—a potion bottle with a wisp of smoke twisting around it—I never take it off.
I won’t forget the true Damarcus family legacy.
I won’t brush it away like it never existed.
“Quit fidgeting.” Eliza leans forward and smacks my hand. She wears a pale peach dress with rose quartz beaded along the bodice. Her light brown hair is pulled into a tight bun, with curled tendrils hanging beside her face. “He doesn’t need to know you’re nervous.”
How could I not be nervous? So much has changed in the year after I turned my father in to the High Council. The council held a month-long session where they questioned me, my friends, my siblings, prisoners, and of course, my father.
Father didn’t lie. He spoke measuredly and never looked at me once. Mother cried through the whole thing.
Most of the prisoners went immediately to physicians and menders and then back to their families, if they could remember them.
Families were ordered to keep them homebound until after the trial, and Tamarynth soldiers enforced the rule by patrolling the provinces for any sign of unrest. Those with no relatives went to a boardinghouse—one I now help fund.
The council’s still trying to figure out what to do with them. Can the formerly imprisoned Morphics be trusted?
The High Council questioned me individually for days—the interrogations felt endless.
They were reluctant to let me take my father’s place on the council.
Wealthy lords and ladies of Aryndar spoke out against my appointment, but the Morphics in Credence have been writing me letters of support.
They want more, and they’re not alone. Boss Stellan even came and spoke in my defense and described the deteriorating conditions of the ship.
Morphics and their families from every province have been writing letters to the council detailing the ways in which they desire change.
I’m finally helping shed light on the crimes, subtle and blatant, committed against Morphics, ones that I didn’t see before.
Or didn’t know to look for. Father hid so much from me.
Eventually, the lords and ladies of Credence voted for my ascension.
Tensions have never been higher, and they still need Morphics on their side.
It helps many of them knew me personally and respected my Morphia from when I helped them connect to lost family.
Now, I think they’re even starting to respect my ideas for change.
Of course, this all threw Tamarynth into a new kind of uproar.
News of what Lord Damarcus had done traveled fast. His family’s plans for the Celestial.
His treatment of Morphics in Malachite Prison.
The Damarcus name became highly unpopular with Morphics and non-Morphics alike.
And I agreed with them. I hated the name almost as much as they did, but I didn’t let that stop me.
With Mother’s help, I assumed control of Damarcus Estate.
Leith preferred working with the Hawks and needed time to recover from prison.
Eliza thought it would send a bad message if we replaced Father with a non-Morphic.
So, there I was. Lady Roe Damarcus of Damarcus Estate, newest member of the council.
I’m terrified a unanimous vote from the council members could force me out, but I’m doing what I can in the meantime.
Now, Morphics caught using their magic in a dangerous way are sent to a school rather than prison.
I’ve advocated for all boarding schools to have a Morphic training program implemented within their regular studies.
That has been a headache in itself since the stuffy, rich families who fund the boarding schools are reluctant to have any changes at all.
We’re working to add more Morphic council members from each of the provinces.
That’s been a struggle too. I can feel the fear like I’m borrowing Alana’s magic.
The fear that Morphics are getting too powerful. The fear that if there is another war, we might win.
I’ll do everything I can to ensure peace. Although I wanted to get rid of the trials immediately, fast change is hard, so we’ve tried our best to repurpose them. Those who fail their trials take remedial courses at the universities. Ivander’s been developing the curriculum with my mother’s help.
A larger question was what to do with Father. The council didn’t have long to decide. After the first two weeks of the trial, Father escaped his imprisonment.
No one knows how he managed it. They suspected me at first, but after numerous individuals corroborated my story of what happened in the prison, the council eased up on me.
They realized it would have been easier for my father and me to start a war than for me to turn him in and then help him escape.
Rumors say he’s hiding out in Carodmoor Forest. Gray and Leith swear that’s a lie.
They spend almost every day out in those woods training the Hawks.
When they’re not training, Gray and Leith travel to other provinces, revamping their Hawk programs—
Eliza pinches my forearm, startling me. “We’re almost there. Didn’t you say you needed to read that letter?”
Of course. The letter from Asralyn. She’s tried to send them every two weeks since they started the Morphia Discovery Center.
Now that raw Morphia’s been released in Tamarynth, the world is changing.
Asralyn’s helping people become less afraid of the magic.
The same way she’s had to teach herself.
We thought rogue Morphia would be just that—rogue and unpredictable.
But instead, with room to breathe, it’s just like the Morphics on the ship and in Father’s prison.
It’s freed.
I unfold the letter, inhaling the rosewater scent of her expensive perfume.
Dear Roe,
I hope you’re well. Vance won’t talk about anything but the discovery center.
What exhibits we’ll have and how best to showcase the way Morphia’s changing everything.
Just yesterday, we found a lemon in the garden that tasted like sunlight.
Sunlight! Ezra and Sage were beside themselves.
That reminds me, Sage was painting, and her paints started to move.
Just like they did on the Celestial. She was so excited.
I’ll admit I was a little frightened, but Vance reminded me it would make a good museum piece. I suppose he’s right.
I know it’s all conjecture at the moment, but do you know if it’s true what they’re saying? That with the release of raw Morphia, it could bring spirits into our world too. I think you know why I ask. I don’t know if I could handle seeing her and knowing she’s not really here.
Every day’s a new discovery, it seems.
Speaking of, what are they doing with that damn ship?
My best,
Lady Asralyn Stallard
My cheeks hurt from smiling. I may have lost a father, but with Asralyn checking in on me, I’ve gained as much as I’ve lost. I can’t answer her question about the spirits. I suppose the changes could affect the spirit world, too, but I haven’t felt the same shift there we’ve felt everywhere else.
Niko’s told me stories of hearth fruits he’s harvested for his kitchen that transport him into memories.
Ivander and Mother talk about students who daydream in class and end up seeing things that aren’t there, just as illusives do.
Gray reports from the infirmaries, where patients have had their broken bones spontaneously mend.
It’s a new world I hope Asralyn’s Morphia Discovery Center will help us navigate. She’s documenting new appearances of magic and helping non-Morphics navigate the changes in their environment.
As for the Celestial, Zora and other crafters have begun repurposing the ship.
What started as a project to rehabilitate it shifted when they discovered the Morphia inside had taken over.
It seemed the power of the raw Morphia flooding Tamarynth had a startling effect on the ship, starting with the jars on board melting into the floorboards.
Once dangerous at night, the ship’s now a danger all the time.
I voted to destroy the ship. The council voted against me.
They want to repurpose it, but I’m unsure what purpose that might be.
Isla and Zora moved close by to oversee the process in Windmere Port.
“Better to know what’s going on than be lied to again,” Zora had said.
We bump along cobblestones as we pull between thick willow trees in the shadow of an immense school.
With stone walls and sharp turrets, the boarding school resembles a palace.
Warm light glows in the windowpanes, and off to the side of the school, a greenhouse lets students out for the day.
I don’t know if anything I’ve done has made a difference, but here, as the carriage rolls to a stop in front of Almanac’s Boarding School, I know something we’ve done has been for the better.
Children run outside with books in their hands and smiles on their faces. They point to the carriage and whisper to each other.
Eliza steps out of the carriage just as the school’s massive, ivy-covered wooden doors creak open. With my heart fluttering in my chest, I lift my skirts as I step down onto the stony carriage path and tell the driver to wait for us here.
Eliza takes my arm. “Do I need to wipe the drool off your chin?”