"This is strange."
It is, Grimoire agrees, sounding confused.
The tiny patch of taint spans no more than two feet, and purifying it takes no ti or energy at all. It's so light, in fact, that I almost second-guessed what I was feeling when we tracked it down.
After days and days of corruption spreading faster than I can purify it, there's suddenly… nothing?
Why?
In normal circumstances, I'd be relieved. But there's sothing strange about all of this as it is, and I don't like not knowing what's going on.
"Grim, how far could I scan if I really pushed myself? With your help, I an."
Grimoire hesitates, his fox eyes narrowing as he looks up at . It's not wise to open yourself up that widely, Ava. The wider the search, the less control you have over your magic. And the more likely soone will be to sense it, even with my guidance.
As much as I want to push further, to find the source of this corruption and purge it from our lands, I know better than to be reckless. "Damn. I just wish I could see farther. What if the taint is still spreading, but we're looking in the wrong direction?"
It's possible, Grimoire admits, his tail swishing thoughtfully through the snow. But it's better to be slow and cautious than alert the enemy. There are plenty who would take an interest in your magic, even before the world went to shit.
Such a way with words.
Sighing, I turn back towards the sled, my mind still churning with possibilities. What if we're missing sothing crucial? What if, while we're out here chasing wispy patches of taint, it's building in giant masses to the east? Or further south? What if it gets too close to Wolf's Landing? No one has the ability to sense it like I do.
I shove the thought away, refusing to let it take root. No more spiraling. Just do what I can, the best I can.
As I reach the sled, I absently pet the fur of my wolf bodyguards, thanking them for their vigilance. They've been working tirelessly, breaking trail through the deep snow, their keen senses alert for any sign of danger. It's made being out here infinitely easier—at least for .
They seem to be having fun, though.
Because they're all trying to prove they're stronger than each other. They're going to compete on leads during this entire trip. Selene sounds amused.
It makes sense, though. I wondered why they were so excited to pull a sled. I thought it would be underneath their dignity as wolf shifters.
Settling back into the sled, I tuck the blankets around myself, shivering slightly as the cold seeps through my layers. The bitter chill of winter is relentless. Far worse than previous years, from what everyone's been saying.
You should rest, Grimoire says, hopping up beside .
"I haven't even done anything yet today."
Oh. Right.
* * *
There's no taint for several more miles.
The strangeness of its absence is like a heavy weight on my shoulders, scratchy straw against my skin, and scraping tal to my ears.
It's like my magic and soul shrivel into an anxious ss, waiting. Just waiting. Knowing sothing terrible's going to happen next.
Spiraling? Selene questions, sounding rather invigorated despite running behind the sled all day.
No.
But I can't shake that nagging feeling, no matter how much I reason with myself.
The sled glides over fresh snow, each bump sending a jolt through my tired bones. The thick wool blankets are my only refuge from the biting wind. Grimoire's spiritual fox form presses against my side, but he offers no warmth or comfort. It's little more than an illusion, because his book form is snugly tucked inside my ssenger bag.
"Can we track where the taint originates?" My voice cos out muffled through the layers. "There has to be a pattern, right?"
Grimoire's fox ears twitch. You asked this before, little witch.
"I did?" I can't rember this conversation. We have too many of them. In fact, so days it feels like neither of them stop talking.
Yes. And the answer remains the sa—there is no way to predict its path or find its source. The taint follows no logic we understand. Sotis it rides the wind like dandelion seeds. Other tis it follows magical currents.
Oh. I vaguely rember a talk about dandelion seeds now. Maybe when I was half-asleep.
But it still doesn't make sense. There has to be a way, even if it's imperfect.
"There must be sothing—"
Sotis it hunts. Like a predator seeks prey, searching for things to corrupt.
Disturbing thought.
Indeed. Taint—corruption—whatever you wish to call it, is not very well-studied. What we do know is that it takes significant magic to cause such an effect in the world.
Snow-laden trees pass by in a blur. The steady rhythm of wolf paws crunching through snow fills the silence.
Even with Grimoire's explanation, I'm left dissatisfied. It's frustrating to feel as though we're always reacting to what's happening to us, rather than fixing the problem at its core.
It is what it is. Sotis the wisest course is patience. My wolf-husky butts into the conversation, and there's a distinct sense of her panting heavily as she runs.
It isn't like I haven't learned this lesson; it's just a hard one to swallow sotis. Learning and liking are two very different things.
You learned to like your bodyguards, Selene points out.
"That's different."
Is it, though? You wholeheartedly accepted what was necessary. But there's a part of you that still feels like you're not doing enough, and that's why you're frustrated.
"That's normal," I mutter. "There are a lot of lives at stake."
Dwelling on it doesn't change the circumstances.
Chastened, I try to ignore the restless energy humming beneath my skin. Every mile without finding taint feels as though so kind of trap is tightening like a noose around my neck.
You're a paranoid one, Grimoire notes thoughtfully. Always waiting for sothing bad to happen next.
"Can you bla ?"
I suppose not.
Reviews
All reviews (0)