Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
RAVENNA
T he Castle of Cards looms in the distance, its once vibrant towers now tinged with darkness. Even from my hidden vantage point in the Wood, I can see the corruption spreading across its walls. The sight fills me with fury. Not simply because Mara has taken what isn't hers, but because somewhere within those walls is Scarlett.
My Scarlett.
The severance of our connection remains a constant, gnawing ache—a phantom pain. I reach instinctively for her through our bond, finding only the faintest thread. Yet that thread, tenuous as it is, is my most precious possession. As long as it remains, I know she lives.
"It’s spreading faster than anticipated," Commander Lysander observes, crouched beside me at the edge of the clearing. He arrived from Darkmore hours ago with a contingent of shadow-warriors, following my urgent summons. "Your sister's power has grown significantly since our last encounter."
"She is not my sister," I reply, the words tasting like ash. "Whatever Mara was, she has surrendered to darkness entirely. What remains wears her body but uses it only as a vessel."
Lysander nods, accepting this assessment without question. He has witnessed enough to understand the truth of it. "Then our strategy must adapt accordingly. We face not a misguided queen but an enemy who must be eliminated entirely."
Around us, Underland's resistance forces gather—a coalition of loyal subjects who escaped the castle's fall. Card-soldiers rustling as they prepare for battle. Chess pieces, particularly knights and rooks, strategizing. The strangest allies come from Underland's magical inhabitants—the Mad Hatter and his companions, the Caterpillar atop his mushroom, the Dodo with his collection of unusual timepieces.
In the time since Scarlett's capture, I've learned that Underland conceals remarkable resilience. These bizarre creatures, whom I once dismissed as frivolous manifestations of heart magic's undisciplined nature, have proven themselves clever, resourceful, and fiercely loyal to their queen.
To our queen, as many have taken to addressing me alongside Scarlett. The distinction between our kingdoms seems increasingly meaningless to them.
The Cheshire Cat appears beside me, his grin forming first, followed gradually by the rest of his striped form. "The roses send a message," he purrs, his voice uncharacteristically direct. "The Queen of Hearts lives. She has escaped her chains and rallies forces within the castle itself."
My heart leaps at the confirmation. The faint thread of our connection had suggested as much, but certainty is a gift beyond price. "Can you take us to her?"
The Cat's tail swishes contemplatively. "Directly? No. The castle's corruption interferes with my... particular method of movement. But the roses create paths that it cannot easily follow. Through them, we might establish more reliable communication."
I turn my attention to the nearest rose bush—one of many that have sprouted spontaneously throughout Underland since our magics began to merge. The blooms are perfectly formed, their stems bearing thorns that seem sharper, more purposeful than those on ordinary roses. I extend my hand toward them, and they respond immediately, bending toward my touch as if drawn by magnetic force.
Magic flows from my fingertips into the nearest bloom. Through the rose, I sense others of its kind within the vast network extending throughout Underland, and through that network, faint but unmistakable, I sense Scarlett.
"She's in the central garden," I report, the connection strengthening as I maintain contact with the rose. "Gathering allies, preparing to strike from within as we attack from outside." I pause, receiving another impression through the connection. "And..." my voice trails off as I concentrate on interpreting her message. “The sapling.”
The Cheshire Cat's grin widens. "The Blood Tree sapling," he says, unsurprised. "It grows where heart meets blood, where chaos embraces order."
"Where?" I demand, deeply annoyed because now is not the time for his cryptic words.
The Cat's form undulates lazily, but his eyes remain fixed on mine with unusual seriousness. "Near the heart of Wood, where Underland's magic runs deepest."
I glance at Lysander, who nods. "I'll continue preparation for the assault," he says. "Find the sapling. It may provide an advantage against Mara."
Decision made, I follow the floating feline deeper into Wood. The forest grows stranger as we progress—trees with bark that shifts colors as we pass, mushrooms that whisper secrets in ancient languages, flowers that sing rather than speak. Yet, I sense a growing order, a structure beneath the madness.
It reminds me of Scarlett.
The thought brings a tightness to my throat. When did the Queen of Hearts become so essential to me? When did Scarlett become someone I cannot imagine continuing without?
The Cat leads me to a clearing unlike any other in the Wood. Here, trees grow in concentric circles, their branches forming geometric patterns against the sky. Flowers arrange themselves in precise sequences. Even the light seems ordered, falling in measured rays that create a natural focus on the clearing's center.
And there, in that focus point, grows a small sapling that stops my breath.
The Blood Tree of Darkmore—or rather, its child. No taller than my waist, yet unmistakable with its crimson bark and silver-red leaves. But this sapling differs subtly from its parent in my kingdom. Where Darkmore's Blood Tree maintains rigid structure, this sapling incorporates elements of Underland's disarray—branches that occasionally shift position, leaves that change transparency based on one's viewing angle, roots that seem to dance subtly beneath the soil.
It is neither purely my magic nor purely Scarlett’s magic, but a perfect hybrid of both.
"The future," the Cheshire Cat murmurs, floating beside me as I approach the sapling. "Or perhaps the past, re-emerging after centuries."
I reach out, letting my fingers graze the bark. The moment contact is made, power surges through me. The thread connecting us strengthens dramatically, and suddenly I can sense her more clearly.
Ravenna? I can hear her voice in my mind, distant but distinct. It’s there. It’s her.
Scarlett! I respond, shock flooding through me. I've found it—the Blood Tree sapling. It's amplifying our connection.
Her relief and happiness flow through our bond. I knew you would find it. It's the key to defeating Mara—I'm certain of it, though I don't yet understand how.
Where are you exactly?
The heart of the garden. I've gathered loyal subjects—the Duchess, the White Rabbit, card-soldiers who were able to resist. We prepare to strike from within, but Mara knows I’ve escaped. Her patrols are searching for me. We cannot wait much longer.
We’re coming. Hold out as long as you can.
Ravenna, her voice grows more serious, Mara revealed her plan. She doesn't seek to kill us—she means to absorb us completely.
Cold certainty settles in my chest. We can’t let her win. Everything will be lost. Our kingdoms will become uninhabitable if she rules.
Yes, but how? Frustration is clear in her thoughts. She grows stronger by the hour.
I look down at the sapling, forming an idea. Perhaps not just our combined magic—but our magic combined with the original source. The Blood Tree sapling represents what existed before the sundering.
The Cheshire Cat, who has been watching silently, suddenly interjects as if hearing my thoughts. "The sapling cannot leave this clearing," he warns. "Not yet. It remains too vulnerable."
I relay this to Scarlett, disappointment flowing between us. If we cannot bring the sapling's power to bear against Mara directly, how can we utilize its advantage?
Wait, Scarlett's thoughts sharpen. What if we don't need to move the sapling? What if we bring Mara to it?
It would require perfect coordination, I caution. Our attacks would have to be timed perfectly to drive Mara toward the sapling without revealing too much.
I’m a bait she cannot resist, Scarlett adds. If she sees me fleeing toward the Wood… She will have no choice but to follow.
Us, we realize together. She needs both of us. If she believes she can capture both queens at once...
She'll pursue regardless of risk, I conclude. We become the lure that draws her to her doom.
We form a complete plan, refining the details with each exchange. Our tie through the sapling allows us to converse in moments rather than hours.
As our strategy solidifies, a disturbing ripple passes through our connection. Scarlett's presence suddenly dims, her thoughts becoming fragmented.
Scarlett? I call, alarmed by the disruption.
Mara— Her response comes broken, strained. She knows—senses our connection—coming—the garden—
Then silence.
The connection remains, but Scarlett's active presence has withdrawn— hiding , concealing herself from detection.
I straighten, turning to the Cheshire Cat with urgency. "Mara moves against Scarlett. We need to hurry."
He nods, his form solidifying further. "I'll alert your commander. The attack must begin within the hour if we hope to create sufficient confusion for your plan to succeed."
As he vanishes to deliver this message, I remain by the sapling, one hand maintaining contact with its crimson bark. I continue sending strength to Scarlett, wherever she now hides. Whether or not she can hear me, I can’t be certain, but I’m trying.
The clearing around the sapling has changed subtly during our communication. The trees at the perimeter now form what appears to be a defensive formation, their branches interlacing to create natural barriers. The flowers have rearranged themselves into patterns reminiscent of tactical maps, seemingly reflecting our strategic planning.
It strikes me that this place responds to intention, to purpose .
I return to the edge of the Wood where our forces have completed preparations. Lysander approaches, his expression grim but determined.
"The Cheshire Cat conveyed the change in timeline," he reports. "Our forces stand ready, awaiting your command. The chess pieces will lead the frontal assault while shadow-warriors infiltrate through the castle's eastern approach. The card-soldiers will create diversions at strategic points." He hesitates, then adds, "We've received reports that Edmund himself leads the castle's outer defenses."
This complicates matters. Edmund—or what remains of him—is Mara's strongest weapon apart from herself. His connection to Ironwood's suppression magic makes him particularly dangerous.
"Can our forces handle Edmund while creating a sufficient distraction?" I ask.
Lysander ponders the question, assessing variables before giving me an answer. "With difficulty, but yes. The chess pieces in particular seem effective against Mara’s power."
I nod, adjusting our strategy accordingly. "Then they shall engage him directly while the shadow-warriors focus on penetrating to the castle interior."
As last minute preparations continue around us, I feel a sudden, sharp pulse through my connection with Scarlett. Not words, but emotion—determination and defiance.
She faces Mara, or prepares to. Soon, we will execute our coordinated attack, driving the sickness toward the one power pure enough to counter it.
I reach once more for our connection. I'm coming, Scarlett. Hold fast. Whatever happens, we face it together.
As I strap my ritual knife to my waist and don the light armor Lysander has provided, I feel the rightness of what we attempt. Not just for our kingdoms, not just for magic itself, but for our people.
Horns sound from multiple directions as our forces advance on the castle. From the south, chess pieces move in their distinctive patterns; knights leap impossible distances while rooks advance in perfect straight lines. From the east, shadow-warriors slip between patches of darkness, silent and deadly. From the west, card-soldiers create diversions and draw attention.
And I advance directly through the center, accompanied by a small elite guard of both shadow-warriors and card-soldiers. Our objective is not to engage the main force but to penetrate to the garden where Scarlett awaits—to reunite the queens before leading Mara to her downfall.
Mara’s forces respond immediately, pouring from the castle in disorganized waves. Unlike the coordinated attack that captured Scarlett, these defenders seem to lack central direction—suggesting Mara's attention focuses elsewhere. On Scarlett, perhaps, rather than the external threat.
Resistance appears in the form of Edmund, or what remains of him. The king stands before the main gate, cancerous growths completely encasing what was once a human form. Within his transparent prison, I glimpse a figure frozen in silent agony—eyes wide, mouth open in an eternal scream, hands raised as if to claw his way free of the darkness that has consumed him.
The sight should horrify me, should evoke pity or revulsion. Instead, I feel only cold certainty. This is what awaits all three kingdoms if we fail today.
Edmund's crystalline form pulses with sickly light as he raises arms that no longer resemble human limbs. Power flows from him in visible waves, targeting the chess pieces that advance to engage him. Where his magic touches them, crystal growths begin to form.
But the chess pieces are resilient. The knights, in particular, seem largely immune to its immediate effects. They advance in their characteristic L-shaped movements, confounding Edmund's attempts to track and target them. Their weapons—carved from the same material as their bodies—strike Edmund, creating cracks that leak.
This scene creates precisely the distraction we need. While Edmund focuses on the chess pieces, my smaller force slips past, using shadow-warrior abilities to move between patches of darkness. We encounter minimal resistance as we approach the garden entrance, suggesting Mara has indeed concentrated her attention elsewhere.
As I enter the garden, the roses— our roses—stand defiant, their hybrid blooms untouched and beautiful. They turn toward me as I enter, petals opening wider in recognition. Through them, I sense Scarlett more strongly; she’s nearby.
Ravenna, her voice is clearer now. You’re here.
Did you doubt me? I tease despite the danger still surrounding us. Where are you?
Hidden with several of my loyal subjects behind the western fountain. Mara searches the eastern section. We have minutes at most before she realizes I’m not there.
I signal my force to proceed cautiously toward the western fountain, avoiding the tainted sections of the garden where Mara's awareness might more easily detect us.
When we finally round the elaborately carved fountain, I see her.
Scarlett stands among a group of loyal subjects—the Duchess with her scowl, the White Rabbit clutching his pocket watch, and several card-soldiers bearing the marks of battle.
But I have eyes only for her.
She appears unharmed other than a few scratches.
For a moment, we simply stare, drinking in the details of one another. Then, we simultaneously break into a sprint, running toward each other with unmasked desperation. The moment our bodies connect, our bond surges back to full strength—thoughts, emotions, and magical awareness flow between us as they did before.
"When this is over, I’m going to show you just how much I appreciate you returning for me," she whispers against my hair, her arms tightening around me.
"I promised, didn't I?" I reply, allowing myself this moment of vulnerability before we face what comes next.
We separate reluctantly, both aware that time works against us. Already, I sense a shift in the garden's atmosphere—a coldness, a wrongness that suggests Mara is closing in.
"She comes," Scarlett confirms, reading my thoughts. "The plan?"
"Unchanged," I assure her. "We create a fighting retreat, leading her to believe we seek the Blood Tree in Darkmore. Instead—"
"We guide her to the sapling in the Wood," she finishes, our thoughts once again in perfect alignment.
Without further discussion, we organize our forces—her loyal subjects joining with my shadow-warriors and card-soldiers to create a diverse defensive unit.
We've barely completed these arrangements when Mara’s power surges at the garden's eastern edge. Plants wither, stone cracks, and water freezes as Mara approaches. She’s more sickly than ever, more vein than skin now. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand upright.
"Queens," she greets us, the word distorted by the poison in her voice. "Reunited at last. How convenient that you've saved me some time."
Her gaze shifts between us, noting our clasped hands. Something like doubt flickers across her features. But it vanishes quickly, replaced by false confidence. "Your effort is impressive," she acknowledges. "But not good enough."
Scarlett and I exchange glances, communicating without words.
It's time.
"Fall back!" I command our forces, creating the impression of a defensive line beginning to crumble. "Toward the eastern gate!"
Our soldiers retreat in careful formation, maintaining sufficient resistance to keep Mara engaged while gradually leading her in the direction we've chosen. Scarlett and I move with them, working to create the appearance of desperate defense rather than strategic withdrawal.
Mara advances, confidence growing as she perceives our apparent weakness. "Running again?" she calls mockingly. "There is nowhere in Underland or Darkmore where you can hide from me."
"Who's hiding?" Scarlett retorts, magic flaring dramatically to draw Mara's attention more fully to us rather than our retreating forces.
The taunt lands exactly as intended. Mara's focus narrows, power flowing more intensely as she pursues us directly rather than splitting her attention among our forces.
We retreat beyond the garden through corridors partially cleared by units of shadow-warriors. Mara follows, growing more monstrous with each passing moment, crystal growths extending like reaching tentacles as she attempts to ensnare us.
The Wood path is secured, Scarlett informs me as we pass a patch of roses.
And Mara's forces are fully engaged on multiple fronts , I confirm, sensing through shadow-warrior reports that Edmund remains contained by the chess pieces.
We've isolated Mara from her army, drawing her into pursuit focused solely on capturing us.
Now comes the most dangerous part—leading her to the Blood Tree sapling.
As we exit the castle grounds and enter the wild borderlands, there’s a subtle shift in Mara's pursuit. Her confidence now wavers, uncertainty falling over her as she detects a shift in the environment.
The roses. They line our path now, those stunning blooms and their magic. They turn toward us as we pass, then orient away from Mara as if rejecting her.
"What is this?" she demands, flaring defensively as she notices the roses' reaction. "What have you done to my kingdom?"
"This is not your kingdom," Scarlett corrects as we force her deeper into the Wood. "These roses recognize their true queens."
Mara's rage erupts through the ground around us, forcing us to adjust our path slightly. But the detour works to our advantage, leading more directly toward the clearing where the Blood Tree sapling awaits.
"You think these pitiful flowers can stop me?" Mara snarls, lashing out with her power to wither roses as she passes. But for each bloom destroyed, two more emerge from the earth, the network expanding faster than she can consume it. "I've drunk from the original source of all magic! I will unify what was never meant to be divided!"
"You've corrupted what was meant to be balanced," I spit, drawing her attention back to us as we near the Wood's edge.
The trees themselves seem to respond to our passage, branches shifting to allow us easier travel while creating obstacles for our pursuer. The path winds confusingly—appearing to lead deeper into Underland territory while actually circling toward the sapling's clearing.
Mara's frustration grows visible. "Even the trees conspire against me," she hisses. "But they cannot prevent what must happen. The original state must be restored!"
"On that much, we agree," Scarlett calls back, magic flaring to illuminate our path forward. "But method matters as much as outcome."
We approach the clearing, the sapling's presence now detectable. Its power pulses in response to our proximity, recognizing its queens.
For a moment, doubt clouds my resolve. Are we leading her directly to the one pure source that might counter her? Or have we miscalculated the sapling's strength, its ability to withstand Mara's corrupted power?
Scarlett senses my concern, her hand squeezing mine reassuringly. Trust the balance , she reminds me. Trust what we've created together.
I nod. We've come too far to waver now. There’s no going back.
With one final burst of speed, we enter the clearing where the Blood Tree sapling grows. Its crimson bark gleams in the strange light, silver-red leaves shimmering with power.
We position ourselves on opposite sides of the sapling, creating a triangle whose third point remains empty—waiting for Mara to occupy it.
She enters the clearing moments later, sickly power flowing before her like a noxious tide. But at the clearing's edge, that tide hesitates. The perfect balance established here creates a natural barrier against its imbalance.
Mara pauses, her form shifting as she assesses the clearing. Her gaze moves from us to the sapling between us, confliction in those black-pool eyes.
Mara hesitantly steps fully into the clearing, but as she approaches, the perfect symmetry of the clearing shifts, realigns , creating a containment pattern with Mara at its center.
The sapling responds to her proximity, its leaves turning to face her directly. But rather than withering under her assault, it glows with power— pure , balanced energy that pushes back against Mara.
"What is this?" she demands, redoubling her effort to reach the sapling. "What trickery have you conjured?"
"No trickery," I reply, magic flowing from my hands into the earth beneath us.
"Magic seeks balance, not dominance," Scarlett reminds her, her magic joining mine, flowing through the soil to connect with the sapling's roots.
Mara’s head cocks to the side as she becomes increasingly confused.
The sapling between us grows visibly now, drawing power from us. Its trunk thickens, its branches extend, its roots spread deeper into the earth—not yet matching Darkmore's ancient Blood Tree, but no longer a fragile sapling either.
The sapling absorbs Mara’s sickly power as she thrusts more at it, depleting her reserves at an exponential rate.
Realization dawns in Mara's black eyes—not fear, but recognition that she has failed here. She attempts to retreat, but the clearing has other plans. The containment pattern tightens, the trees at the perimeter interlacing more completely, the sigils in the soil glowing with increased intensity. Mara finds herself completely trapped.
"Queens," she pleads, desperation entering her voice. "We seek the same outcome, really—"
"We differ in everything that matters," I reply flatly, maintaining the containment while Scarlett channels additional power to the growing tree. "You would destroy what makes each magical tradition unique in service to your own dominance."
"The prophecy is clear," Scarlett adds, green-blue eyes fixed on Mara's corrupted form. " One queen must fall ."
Mara's desperation turns to rage. With a scream that shakes the entire clearing, she unleashes her full power—no longer attempting to corrupt the tree but to destroy it completely. Crystal shards erupt from her body, shooting toward us and the tree.
Scarlett and I respond instantly, our magic creating a shield that deflects the crystals with ease. The shards shatter against our barrier, dissolving into dust that the growing tree absorbs and purifies.
"You cannot escape what you've become, Mara," I say, sorrow mixing with resolve as I face what remains of my sister. "The poison has consumed too much of your original self. There is nothing left to save."
"You're wrong," she snarls, power flowing around her in increasingly erratic patterns. "I haven't been consumed—I've evolved! I see truths you refuse to acknowledge, powers you're too afraid to embrace!"
"What we see," Scarlett counters, "is someone who surrendered their soul for power at the cost of others."
The Blood Tree continues growing, drawing strength from us. Its roots spread visibly through the soil, creating patterns that mirror the sigils Mara used to separate us.
Mara's attacks grow increasingly frantic as she realizes her power is useless here. The crystals embedded in her body begin to crack, and black liquid seeps from fissures that widen with each failed hit.
She’s destroying herself.
"This isn't over," she hisses, her corrupted form beginning to destabilize. "The pool remains. The source still exists beneath Ironwood. As long as it flows, corruption will return—if not through me, then through another who appreciates true power as much as I do."
The statement triggers something in my memory—the vision we shared through my mirror. The pool, the poison seeping into it, the original break.
The pool , I murmur to Scarlett. That's the final piece. Defeating Mara here contains the immediate threat, but as long as the corrupted pool remains...
Corruption can spread again , she finishes, understanding flowing between us. But how can we reach it? It lies beneath Ironwood, guarded by whatever forces remain loyal to Mara and Edmund.
The answer comes not from either of us, but from the Blood Tree itself. As it continues growing, its bark splits slightly, revealing a small hollow within the trunk. Inside rests a single seed—crimson and black, pulsing with energy.
A third sapling, I realize. One for Underland, one for Darkmore, and one...
For Ironwood , Scarlett completes the thought. To cleanse the pool from within.
Mara follows our gaze to the seed, awareness in her dark eyes. "No," she gasps, launching herself toward the tree. "I won't allow it!"
But her attack comes too late. The clearing's containment tightens further, tree branches weaving into an impenetrable barrier between Mara and the Blood Tree. Her power rebounds upon itself, and crystal shards meant for us stab her instead.
She screams—a sound of rage and pain and, beneath it all, bitterness. "You've chosen the weaker path," she spits.
"We've chosen life ," I correct her, maintaining the containment while Scarlett retrieves the seed from the tree's hollow. "We’ve chosen our people."
"And that choice," Scarlett adds, her heart magic flowing around the seed to protect it, "makes all the difference."
With a final surge of magic, we complete the working. The Blood Tree reaches full maturity in an instant, its power flowing outward in waves that transform the clearing into a perfect balance of all three magical traditions—heart's creativity, blood's discipline, iron's stability. Where these balanced waves touch Mara, she begins to dissolve, poison having no defense. The process isn't violent or painful—more like ice melting in sunlight, returning to its original state.
"No," she whispers, her voice momentarily free of darkness as she continues dissolving. "I only wanted—"
"We know," I reply softly, letting my magic gentle as Mara's threat diminishes.
"The queen falls," Scarlett says, not with triumph but with solemn recognition. "As the mirror foretold."
Mara disappears entirely, fading into the air as though she never existed.
"It's not over," I remind Scarlett, thinking of Edmund and the forces still battling throughout Underland. "Mara was the source, but we don’t know what waits for us beyond the Wood now.”
"Then we continue," Scarlett says simply, her hand finding mine. "Together."
Our connection surges at the touch, stronger than ever.