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“That’s because animals can smell its toxin.”
My eyebrows rose. “What part of it is toxic?”
“All of it.” Solin stared at the root in his hands. “But the roots are the most potent. Its bark can be used to ward off bad spirits and its sap to shed a body of fevers.” He looked at me beneath his brow. “You were fed a few drops every day when you first arrived to stave off your fevers and bring you back to strength.”
“Tree toxin cured me?”
He nodded. “A great many toxins can be the antidote to a great many threats. Just like it can open the mind to a great many worlds that we cannot see without it.” Placing the root on the furs by his legs, he buried his hand into the thick pelt we sat on and collected the stone knife he’d stored there.
I stiffened at the sight of it.
He looked down at the knife before grabbing the dried damaq root and whitling almost silver-transparent shards off it. Placing the knife back on the furs, he gathered up the few root slivers.
Keeping three for himself, he placed the two smallest, thinnest pieces in my hand. “The clan are keeping vigil silently outside. They will remain there all night or until the trance is broken. When you slip into the fire, you will be neither here nor there. Your spirit will be untethered, and you’ll walk in the space between the living and the dead. The symbols on your body will help guide you home but don’t let go of me.” His voice deepened. “Never let go of my hand. Do you hear me?”
Prickles scattered over my skin.
“Listen, learn, and remember. I will guide you, to begin with, and teach you how to hear all that the fire has to offer, but then I will let you lead. It is your memories we need to visit, your name we need to uncover, your past that needs to be known.”
Arching his chin at the slivers of root in my palm, he commanded, “Cup them tight like this.” Squeezing his fingers, he fisted his hand tight over his shards. Reaching for my other hand, he waited until I’d threaded my touch with his. Shifting a little, he gripped me until our bond was unbreakable.
“Close your eyes, raise your hand, and repeat after me.”
I shivered and stole one last look at the Spirit Master.
“Eat the root I’ve given you when I give the command. Under no circumstances speak after that. Do you understand?” He looked otherworldly. His long black hair cascaded like thick raven feathers down his back.
Nervousness caught my breath. “Pallen already had me eat a mushroom. She said that opened my mind to new pathways and realms. Why do I need—?”
“The damaq root is different to the zirki mushroom. The mushroom binds you to the earth as much as it opens your mind. The damaq is what frees you from your body by poisoning your blood just enough for your spirit to choose a different host.”
“You mean...the root kills me?”
“Only temporarily.” Solin grinned darkly. “And not fully.”
“How can you die but not be dead?”
“There is so much you don’t know, Girl.”
A chill ghosted down my back.
“Close your eyes,” he repeated. “And eat when I tell you. You must swallow all of it. Otherwise, your spirit might not fully leap. You might be trapped in your mortal form while the toxin flows through your blood. You will suffer.”
My hands shook around the root, but with a constricted swallow, I nodded.
“Good.” His nostrils flared as the fire cast orange over his high cheekbones and sharp clean-shaven jaw. It was the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes and placed my life into his hands.
His fingers squeezed mine as if to assure me he wouldn’t let go.
Then he began to hum.
A primal hum with a base note that tore through my veins and throbbed around my bones. I shivered as the hum switched to words. Words I recognised. In a language that suddenly tasted so foreign on my tongue even though I spoke it fluently.
Solin chanted in Firenese, his voice low and full of deepening echoes. “Fire, fire, fire, we come willingly to thee. By your light, heat, and mercy, we are here to see. Guide, show, and teach, for we will listen to all you say. Protect, defend, and shield, for we are yours until the light of day.”
His voice hovered in the dense, smoky air.
His fingers squeezed again, urging me to repeat what he’d said.
Clearing my throat, I whispered, “Fire, fire, fire, we come willingly to thee. By your light, heat, and mercy, we are here to see. Guide, show, and teach, for we will listen to all you say. Protect, defend, and shield, for we are yours until the light of day.”
