Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Despite my shock at who had saved me from my delusional neighbor, along with my heightened response to him and potentially impending insanity thanks to the Stone’s arrival, I didn’t have time to contemplate any of those minor hiccups.
However, if the Stone truly was going to turn me into a fairy as deranged as Abel—with or without Kole Swordwielder’s presence—I had best go about finding it immediately, so its effects would stop.
The second Kole disappeared from view, I picked my jaw up off the ground and leaped back onto my carpet. It wasn’t long until I was journeying steadily eastward again, and the capital fell behind me.
The Wood’s abundant trees and plants flew past my peripheral vision. Vibrant swathes of color filled the land. When a burst of magenta and sapphire vines, a common species of ploramix, brushed against my shoulder, I ducked my head to the right and kept my carpet going at its max pace.
And with every mile that passed beneath me, my head cleared more, but that only made my heart thrum. Because while my mind no longer felt muddled—hopefully, it would stay that way—it wasn’t free of my uncle’s impending doom.
I couldn’t fail. I had to find the Stone.
My anxiety on the cusp of blooming, I used the Wood to keep me grounded. Rich scents from its soil and abundant plant life helped keep me focused, so I concentrated on that, and I began to catalogue each plant I recognized in my dashing flight across the land.
Diafill, a beautiful flower that only blooms at the cusp of nightfall. Useful for temporary magical beauty enhancements when crushed, and relieves sore feet when boiled.
Meer, a deadly herb that can be mistaken for thyme, and has killed more fae than any herb combined.
Avose, my favorite plant in all of the Wood, known for its lightly scented petals that make a lovely addition to salads if served whole, but if crushed, dried, and placed toward the sun at the cusp of dawn, it will become infused with magic that is the perfect cure for horrendous hangovers.
The fact that I knew the recipe for a hangover cure had made me very popular in my university days before I’d begun my job at the library.
Hours passed as I flew steadily eastward.
I stopped several times to consult wildlings, but they all told me the same thing.
Hundreds of fae had already flown through the Wood ahead of me, also heading east toward wherever the Stone had landed.
Because of Abel, I was behind all of them, but it’d resulted in another unexpected patch of good luck.
There hadn’t been any fae on the road who had bothered me.
I’d passed a few who were traveling in slower-moving carriages, but they’d ignored me, so I’d spent the day almost entirely on my own. Perhaps the lock of Goddess Nuleef’s hair was working after all.
Evening neared, and the chatter from wildlings in a nearby tree filled the air, distracting me momentarily. At dusk, the Wood always came alive in a new way as nocturnal animals and the Wood’s sleeping wildling fae awakened.
I activated my sight sensory ability, courtesy of my Ironcrest magic, and catalogued the dozens of wildlings that appeared perched on branches, rummaging through the Wood’s floor, or flying from tree to tree.
With my eyesight enhanced, it was so easy to see them in their shadowy burrows or pick them out despite their camouflaged coats.
Above, the pale green sky grew darker. I couldn’t see the horizon—it was impossible considering how dense the Wood was—but if I’d been able to glimpse it, it would have undoubtedly been a myriad of blazing colors.
In other words, nighttime would be here before I knew it, and that only meant one thing.
I would soon know if what my book from the Isle of Song proclaimed was true.
A burst of nerves flipped my stomach. Please be true. Please be true.
Nerves alight with hope, I bit my lip and searched my surroundings for where I could camp for the night. I would need to be careful not to disturb any of the local wildling fae. Their homes were often in underground dens, hollow trees, burrows on the Wood’s floor, or nests in the tree branches.
Wildlings weren’t like siltenites, my kind, who were entirely magical.
But wildlings did harbor Old Wood magic, which was usually primitive, and varied in strength depending upon their wildling subspecies, but even though the wildlings weren’t siltenites, they were still fae, despite that many siltenites considered the wildling fae lesser.
Yet I had learned over the seasons, during my many visits to the Wood in my university days, that even though wildlings often looked more animal than fae, they were anything but.
Many were intelligent. Most were kind. They also made very good allies given their innate understanding of the Wood, and throughout the coming weeks, the wildlings would inevitably make my journey less lonely since many of them were capable of language despite their animalistic forms.
My thoughts drifted to Kole. I wondered if he ever spoke to wildlings or if he felt, as so many other siltenites did, that they were beneath him. I hoped not. It would be disappointing if he did.
Abruptly, I snapped my shoulders back. “Gah, seriously, Prim? You’re thinking of him again?”
I harrumphed. It wasn’t the first time my thoughts had meandered his way.
It didn’t help that I had no idea who he was, other than what he was, given his last name.
The mystery of him only added to my curiosity.
To have one of his kind randomly roaming Whiteolf’s streets was rare, and I doubted he was hunting the Stone.
Or perhaps he was. Perhaps he had been tasked to find it by the Imperial Council, in which case, he would be a very worthy opponent.
“Even if he is after the Stone, it doesn’t matter.
Just forget him.” I huffed and berated myself anew because it was crazy—truly crazy—that he still managed to creep into my thoughts hours after meeting him.
“Maybe the Stone is making me go insane. Actually, it probably already has. You are currently talking out loud to yourself, Primelle. That is not a good sign.”
I snapped my mouth closed and concentrated on what I needed to do. I needed to find a place to rest and eat, and I should check in with my aunt. After that, once it was dark enough for the stars to appear, I would consult my book and map.
And then . . . I would know.
I made camp by a small stream. A cluster of femeral bushes surrounded me, which usually deterred a number of wildlings.
The femeral’s pungent scent was particularly bothersome to wildlings with stronger senses of smell, which decreased my chances of unwittingly camping across an underground burrow.
And while the plant’s aroma wasn’t exactly pleasant, I wouldn’t be around it long enough for it to bother me.
While making camp, I connected with my aunt, and I tried to take some reassurance from that. My mental call to her had been short, but she’d promised me that Uncle Timith was much the same as he’d been that morning.
In other words, I still had time.
Planting my hands on my hips, I surveyed what my telekinetic magic had unpacked.
Around me, my supplies were neatly stacked since I’d only taken out what was needed for the night.
I hadn’t bothered with my tent. The sky was clear, no rain in sight, and come dawn, I’d once again be off, so the less I unpacked, the better.
I finished munching on the meat and cheese sandwich I’d prepared for dinner and peered upward. Through the Wood’s canopy, a star appeared.
Darkness was finally upon me.
Hope bursting through me, I grabbed my constellation scroll and my book from the Isle of Song, then jumped back onto my carpet.
“Here goes nothing.”
I whispered a command, and the carpet began to levitate up and up. I kept it moving vertically, and the treetop neared.
I briefly contemplated how smart this move was.
Technically, I wasn’t breaking any laws by commanding my carpet to do such a feat, but I wouldn’t be able to move across the trees once I crested them since that was forbidden, yet I figured since I planned to stay stationary, I had an excuse for my actions on the unlikely chance anyone saw me and reported me to the kingsfae.
Leaves rustled against my face, their smooth texture like cottonum on my skin. It took a moment of wrestling awkwardly through a few vines and branches to break free, but eventually, my carpet pushed entirely through the last of the canopy.
The second the full night sky appeared, a gasp escaped me. Stars. Everywhere. So many of them littered the night sky.
Planets were visible too. The distant pulses of Eucaladas and Daphnis shone near the horizon, their auras throbbing lightly. And far, far off in the distance, Whiteolf was only a speck, barely visible near the western horizon.
I briefly admired the ribbon of the glowing galaxy that stretched from horizon to horizon, emitting colorful clouds and flaring magical auras, then turned my attention eastward, to the last remaining proof of the Wishing Stone’s arrival.
Its hazy tail still streaked across the sky, hinting at where it’d landed.
Or where it’d supposedly landed . . .
My heart pumped steadily, thrumming in my chest as more anxious nerves brewed in my stomach.
Brows furrowed, I picked my book up with shaking fingers.
I knew most fae were heading entirely in the direction of the Stone’s remaining tail, and that seemed logical, but if my book was correct, that wasn’t its true path.
I carefully set my book on the carpet, then unfurled my constellation map, my fingers slipping once since I was so nervous.
When I finally had the map spread out before me, I picked up the book that one of the gargoyles on the Isle of Song had loaned me.
I ran my fingers carefully over the leather-bound cover. Legends of Our Realm.