Chapter 20 #2
When she finished, she flew up and deposited a tiny scroll in my hand, the paper warm from being carried close to her body. She launched back out through the window opening in a shower of silver sparks that faded as she disappeared.
The scroll magically expanded to its original size, and I recognized my grandmother’s seal on the letter.
Feral had returned to his cleaning, but I could feel his attention on me.
I broke the seal and unrolled the letter, scanning the contents once before reading more carefully.
My grandmother’s handwriting filled the page in her characteristic neat script, the letters formed with the same care she gave everything.
Victoria,
The botanical history you requested proved more extensive than I anticipated. Duskburst appears in wolf pack ceremonial records dating back centuries, though never in decorative or medicinal contexts. The application appears to have been ritualistic.
Oddly enough, duskburst functions as a binding agent in pack seal renewal ceremonies.
The plant anchors ritual magic to the physical landscape.
It quite literally holds the seal structure in place.
Without proper duskburst presence, seals can degrade from the outside in.
This degradation would not be dramatic. It would be slow and begin at the roots and work upward through the magical structure.
If plants were removed from seal sites, the seals might erode over time rather than break cleanly.
I read those paragraphs again, my heart rate picking up, before turning to the duskburst specimens on my worktable and the dried sprigs in Acorn’s basket. The pieces were starting to fit together in ways I didn’t like.
One additional observation, though it strays from the botanical subject. I’ve found that the most important discoveries tend to happen when a researcher finally stops working alone. You might consider that.
I smiled at that. She never could resist making personal observations in her correspondence. It was one of the things I loved about her.
I’m consulting the coven’s oldest records for further information and will let you know if I find anything of interest. I’m glad to hear you’re eating well.
With love,
Elizabeth
The last line made my chest tighten. She’d slipped it in casually, like it was an afterthought. But I knew better. She’d been worried about me for years, watching me burying myself in research and avoiding people.
She was telling me she noticed the change—probably through magical scrying.
She was telling me that she approved.
I read her message again, making sure I hadn’t missed anything, then handed it to Feral without comment.
He dried his hands on a rag before taking it. He read it once and set it down on the now-clean desk surface. Then he picked up his rag and went back to the bookshelf.
Three seconds later he stopped. Set down the rag. Turned back my way.
The implications were hitting both of us at the same time. I could see it in his face. His jaw worked, and his eyes went distant.
I gathered my maps and field notes, spreading them across the surface of his father’s desk. Feral brought over the territory map, unrolling it beside my documentation.
We stood side by side, looking at the evidence laid out in front of us.
Late morning light came through the window at an angle, highlighting dust motes in the air and casting everything in warm tones. In the distance, I caught sounds of the pack going about their day. Normal life continuing while we pieced together something that felt increasingly out of place.
“The seals haven’t been maintained,” I said. “That much is clear from my grandmother’s information.”
“Or they’ve been deliberately unmaintained.” Feral traced the seal site markers on his map. “My father performed ceremonies. Were they done at these locations?”
“If he was the one maintaining them, and no one took over after his death…”
“Then they’ve been degrading for thirteen years. From the roots up. Which would explain why the symptoms appeared gradually rather than all at once.”
I considered that. The timeline fit. Thirteen years since his father died. The shifting sickness appeared in the last year. “We could be dealing with progressive degradation that accelerated over time as the seal structures weakened.”
But something about it felt incomplete.
“We’re assuming passive degradation,” I said. “Natural erosion from lack of maintenance.”
“You don’t think that’s what happened?”
“I think it’s one possibility.” I pulled out my duskburst location diagrams, laying them over the seal site markers.
“But there are others. Someone could’ve interrupted the renewal process deliberately, removing the original plants before they completed their binding cycle and placing others in an incorrect way. ”
Feral leaned over the diagrams. “Why would they do that?”
“To weaken the seals without appearing to break them directly. If they could create instability, it might look like natural degradation.” I traced the pattern of duskburst locations I’d mapped.
“Or someone could have substituted plants in a way that mimicked ritual placement without actually completing the binding.”
“Using duskburst, but getting the timing or preparation wrong.”
“It might look right to a casual observer but fail to anchor the magic properly.”
He went quiet for a moment. His hands settled on the desk edge, gripping it.
“There’s a third option,” he said. “The ceremonies could’ve been sabotaged while my father was still alive. Something might’ve been done to undermine his renewal work without him realizing it. The effects might not have shown up until years later, after he was gone and couldn’t correct it.”
I hadn’t considered that. The idea made my stomach turn.
“That would require someone with access to the seal sites,” I said slowly. “Someone your father trusted enough not to question their presence.”
“Or someone skilled enough to work without being detected.”
The implications hung between us.
I wrote down the theories in my notebook, numbering them. Passive degradation from lack of maintenance. Active sabotage after his father’s death. Sabotage during his father’s lifetime with delayed effects.
“We need more data,” I said. “Soil samples from multiple seal sites to compare composition. A timeline of Bastian’s territorial movements over the past decade.”
“You believe Bastian could be involved.”
“I think the timing is suspicious.” I pulled out my notes from the creek visit, flipping back to the entry from the day of the bear. “There’s something else I’ve been thinking about.”
My notation had been clinical at the time, the way I always documented observations. No emotional content, just the facts.
I read it aloud. “Subject emerged from northeast quadrant at estimated distance of thirty paces. Approached at high speed, seemingly aggressive posture. Responded to alpha presence with immediate retreat, trajectory suggesting purposeful redirection rather than random flight.”
Feral listened without interrupting, his attention fixed on my notes.
“The problem is the retreat pattern,” I said.
“It doesn’t fit expected behavior for the species.
A wild bear facing a wolf your size would circle, test, possibly bluster.
They don’t run unless injured or protecting young, and this one showed no signs of either. They turned and fled into the forest.”
I pulled over my duskburst location diagram and mapped the bear’s emergence point against it, marking it with a small notation in the margin.
“Huh.” I frowned at the drawing. “The bear came from the direction of the most recently placed duskburst specimen. Within twenty paces of the location.” I tapped the notation with my pen. “The proximity is noteworthy.”
Feral stared at the maps, his shoulders tightening.
“I’m not saying it was deliberate. I’m saying the data doesn’t support coincidence.”
Feral grunted.
The office felt smaller. The morning warmth had shifted into something heavier.
“A bear shifter lives with Bastian’s pack,” he said.
It could mean nothing. Bears ranged widely. Bastian’s territory bordered this one. There could be other explanations.
But I’d learned to pay attention when the data stopped cooperating with coincidence.
Acorn perked up in his bed, looking our way. Bears who walk like male with purpose true, know forests well and where they’re due.
I set down my pen. “We need to go to Bastian’s territory.”
“Yes.”
“Treaty follow-up would make a great cover. You’re the king. You have every right to check on regional stability following your last meeting.”
“That’s the excuse.” Feral straightened away from the desk. “While there, we can gather information without revealing what we know.”
I nodded. This was just another investigation requiring field work. Data collection in a potentially hostile environment, but I’d done riskier things.
His jaw had tightened in the way it did when he’d already reached a conclusion he hadn’t decided to share yet. Taking me into possible enemy territory, probably.
“I’ll be fine,” I said before he could figure out how to phrase his concern without sounding like he was forbidding me from going.
“You’ll remain close to me at all times.”
“I always do when it matters.”
His expression shifted, warmth breaking through the worry.
I cleared my throat. “When should we leave?”
Feral shook himself. “First thing in the morning. I’ll send word to Bastian that we’re coming for a visit.”
“That will give him time to prepare.”
“It will also give him time to make mistakes if he’s trying to hide something.” He reached for my duskburst diagrams, studying them again. “If he’s involved, he’ll want to appear cooperative. That means he’ll have to balance maintaining his cover with preventing us from finding evidence.”
I gathered my notes, stacking them in order of relevance. The pieces were there. We just needed more evidence. Bastion’s pack was a great place to start.
Feral was still staring at the maps, grinding his teeth.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“That if Bastian’s been sabotaging the seals, he’s been doing it for over a decade. Possibly while my father was still alive.” He glanced my way. “That means he’s been planning this for longer than I’ve been alpha and waiting for the effects to show. Waiting for my pack to weaken.”
“Waiting for you to fail,” I said quietly.
“Yes.”
“He expected you to collapse under the weight of it,” I said. “The sickness spreading, your pack weakening, and you unable to solve it.”
“And instead I married a witch who started investigating the moment she arrived.” His mouth curved, not quite a smile but close.
I returned it. “This must be frustrating for him.”
“I hope so.”
“Tomorrow will be a long day.”
He nodded and started rolling up the territory map.
I tucked my notes into my field journal.
Feral finished with the map and turned to face me. “Thank you.”
He wasn’t just talking about the investigation. He meant me being here while he cleaned and not turning it into something that required explanation.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
We left the office together. Acorn followed, chattering about the quality of his duskburst collection.
I looked back once before closing the door. The office looked different in the afternoon light. Lived in. Cared for. Ready to be used instead of avoided.
Tomorrow we’d go to Bastian’s territory. I made a note to pack an extra field journal. I had a feeling I was going to need the pages.