Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
ZRYNOK
Ifind the Abbot at the Garden’s edge.
A hidden door leads into the forest—an escape route, I realize, prepared for exactly this kind of catastrophe. He’s halfway through when I catch up to him, his robes torn, his ageless face finally showing fear.
“Wait.” The word comes out like a prayer. “Wait, please. I can give you what you want. The infection—I can remove it. Cure you completely.”
My sword hovers at his throat. The Garden screams its death song behind us.
“You can’t cure what you created.”
“I can! The concentrated essence—there’s more, hidden in my sanctum. I can neutralize the infection entirely. Give you your old life back. No more wanting. No more fighting for control.”
For a heartbeat, I actually consider it. The thought of being free—truly free—of the constant hunger...
Then I think of Arwen. Of her hand in mine. Of what she said about wanting being real regardless of the Bloom’s influence.
“I don’t want my old life.” I meet his gaze. Let him see the certainty there. “I want the life I’m building now. You’re not part of it.”
The sword rises.
The Abbot’s mouth opens—another plea, another bargain, another desperate attempt to survive.
It dies on his lips.
The blade falls.
And the Abbot meets his garden’s fate.