I close my eyes again, letting the memory come.
"It was like a dream. Or something older than dreaming. Warmth. Light. Something… ancient. It didn't speak, not with words. But I felt it. Like an offer."
I look up at Maeve.
"And I said yes. I don't even know why. I didn't understand what I was agreeing to. I just didn't want to die alone in the dark."
Maeve perks up, leaning forward. "What did you feel when you woke up?"
I pause, letting myself go back there.
"I felt… everything. The woods were alive in a way I hadn't understood before. I could feel sap running through trees. The grief of roots where the forest had been cut down. The quiet ache of constant death and rebirth all around me."
I shake my head. "Back then, I didn't have the words for any of it. It was overwhelming. Loud, in a way that had nothing to do with sound. I had a headache, but my injuries were gone."
I glance at the floor, remembering. "I got up. Started walking. It should've been terrifying—alone, in the dark, right after being assaulted—but I wasn't scared. I moved like I knew the forest. Like it was mine."
Maeve nods slowly, her dark eyes sharp with interest. "Fascinating. I've never heard of a transformation like that in modern times. There are myths, though. Ancient stories of nymphs born from nature itself. Some were daughters of Titans or gods. And then there's Cyrene—a mortal woman elevated to nymphhood by Apollo after they wed. She wrestled lions, hunted with Artemis. Quite a story there, and closest to your case from what I know."
I let out a breath. "Well, I hope Apollo or Artemis gave her a manual, because I got jack shit. No visions. No guidance. I tried to go back to my old life, but it didn't fit anymore. Everything felt… off. Like I was out of sync with the world I used to know."
My voice quiets.
"Only when I met Darius's people did I even begin to understand what I'd become."
Maeve tilts her head. "And now that you know, how do you feel? Is anything different?"
Her tone is analytical, like a scientist studying a rare specimen.
Fine. I'm not here for sympathy.
"I constantly feel nature. Especially the ache. The imbalance. It's hard to drown out. I have the power of allure, which is toostrong sometimes and unreliable. I can heal fast. I'm stronger, faster, and, apparently, immortal. Or close to it. I haven't aged since I was transformed. I was twenty-eight then."
Maeve's eyes narrow. "Most are common nymph attributes. However, you don't seem to be repelled by death."
Her gaze flicks to either side of me—the two protective vampires.
"No," I say, carefully. "I'm not repelled."
She smiles, sharp and knowing. "Quite the opposite, from what I can see. You've shared your blood with them, haven't you? I can see traces of it, flickering in their auras."
I don't respond.
"I don't know why I'm like this," I say instead, shrugging. "Maybe I'm just built differently from other nymphs."
I reach into my pocket, take out the crystal, and place it on the coffee table between us.
"I told you my story," I say. "Do you need anything else?"
The druid shakes her head. "No. I have everything."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sage
For the rite, we move into the garden behind the house.
It's lush. Unnaturally so. Early blooms open like they've been coaxed awake ahead of the season. Maeve chuckles softly, the sound knowing, but she doesn't say anything. Still, heat rises in my cheeks.
