Aran rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue.
“I think...” I hesitated, looking at Will. “Maybe we should go back. Just to ask. Just to... understand.”
“Alright,” he said. “But I’m coming with you this time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The path to the cottage wound through thick underbrush and crooked trees, narrow and choked with weeds. My cloak snapped around my legs as the wind picked up.
Aran led the way, moving fast. His boots crushed wildflowers and snapped fallen branches, but he didn’t slow down or look back. Will’s footsteps were quieter behind me. He kept scanning the trees, eyes flicking over every shadow like he expected someone, or something, to jump out.
And honestly? So did I. We hadn’t seen the hooded men since the market, but I couldn’t shake the feeling they were still watching. That they’d be waiting somewhere just ahead.
Then the cottage came into view. It looked like it had grown from the earth itself. Its walls weren’t stone or brick, but a patchwork of weathered wood, packed mud, and twisted branches, as if the foresthad built it for her. A crooked chimney leaned like it was listening to the trees, coughing thin wisps of blue smoke into the pale sky. Mushrooms bloomed along the edges of the porch. Clusters of them, all different sizes and colors, and wind chimes made of bones and keys hung from the awning, clinking gently.
Beside the cottage was a garden. It wasn’t a garden the way you’d picture one. No neat rows. No blooming roses. It was wild. Alive. Twisting vines curled around iron stakes and broken trellises. Blooms opened and closed with the wind, like they were breathing, and petals shifted colors as we passed, some bruised purple, others slick red like they’d been dipped in blood. One plant near the edge had teeth. Real ones. It clicked its little mouth as we passed.
A sign hung at the edge of the garden, half-rotted and tilted.
Garden of Poison.
Will read it out loud, dry as ever. “Charming.”
Aran rolled his eyes. “Don’t start. Kera needs answers.”
“Agreed, yes,” Will muttered under his breath. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”
I heard soft humming from somewhere inside the garden, so I stepped past the sign, ignoring the knot in my stomach, and followed the narrow path. It twisted between rows of strange plants. Some glowed faintly, their petals shifting color as we passed, almost like they were reacting to our presence. Others looked half-dead, with curling leaves and stems that sagged toward the earth. I kept my hands close to my sides, careful not to brush against anything.
The woman from the market moved slowly, watering a row of silver-veined stalks, her back to us, and in the middle of the garden was a white, round table and chairs. It almost looked inviting, the kind of place you’d serve tea and biscuits to your friends. She turned at last, and her eyes landed on me like she'd known I'd come.
“We meet again,” she said, voice soft. “I see the moon drops worked. You look rested.”
I nodded slowly, unsure why my throat had gone tight. “They did.”
Her smile widened, gaze flicking between Will and Aran, before settling on me again.
“I thought they might. But you have more to learn, child. That was only the beginning.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She turned back to her plants, brushing her fingers across the petals of one with curling, thorned edges.
“The moon drops help you rest,” she said. “But they won’t help you control what’s inside you.”
A lump rose in my throat.
“Show me,” she said.
“Show you what?”
“The real reason you came,” she said. “Your gift.”
My stomach dropped. Gift… that was an interesting choice of words. It had always felt more like a curse.
“Aran told you,” I gasped.
She started laughing like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
