Page 47

They parked in a visitor lot and the three of them made their way on foot, following signs toward the botanical sciences building. As they made their way to their destination, they passed lecture halls, a library with arched windows, and a quad where a group of young satyrs sat on the grass with books on their laps, arguing in what sounded like Latin.

The botanical sciences building turned out to be a long greenhouse at the far end of campus, its glass panels fogged with humidity and its door propped open with a terra cotta pot that had something purple and aggressive growing out of it.

Inside, the air hit him, warm and thick with the smell of soil and other green things. Plants filled every surface, hanging from the ceiling, crowding the workbenches, climbing the support beams, and spilling off shelves in tangles of leaves and tendrils.

“Hello?” Ria called.

No answer.

“Professor Thyrsou?”

A crash came from somewhere deep in the greenhouse, followed by a muffled curse and the sound of ceramic breaking.

“One moment! Don’t touch the blue one, it bites! One moment!”

Asterion and Ria looked at each other, alarmed. Korinnae was already peering around a fern the size of a small horse.

A satyr emerged from behind a wall of hanging vines, adjusting a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that sat crooked on his face. He was slight for a satyr, with a mop of messy red hair and a lab coat that was two sizes too large and stained with something green at the elbows. He was holding a watering can in one hand and, for reasons Asterion could not begin to guess, a sock in the other.

“Profession Thyrsou?”

“Ah.” He blinked at them from behind the glass of his spectacles then, stuffed the sock into his coat pocket. “You must be Maldenis’s friends.”

“Yes, we are,” Ria said. “I’m Ria Park, this is Asterion and his niece, Korinnae.”

“Please, call me Nikos.” He set the watering can on the nearest bench, then seemed to remember the glasses on his face and pushed them up properly. “Professor Thyrsou makes me sound like my father, and he was far more organized than I’ll ever be.” He gestured vaguely at the chaos around them. “As you can see.”

“Nikos,” Ria said. “Maldenis told you what we’re looking for?”

“He did, he did.” Nikos nodded several times, already moving deeper into the greenhouse. He beckoned for them to follow, weaving between overloaded benches and ducking under a vine that seemed to reach for his hair as he passed. “Moonmoss. I haven’t heard anyone ask about Moonmoss in years. Most of my colleagues think it’s a dead end.”

“What do you mean?” Ria asked.

“Well, officially”—he stopped at a desk buried under papers and a half-eaten sandwich—“the university published a study about twelve years ago concluding that Moonmoss was functionally extinct in the Willowfen region. Overharvesting, habitat loss, the usual culprits.” He rifled through a stack of folders, pulling one free and sending two others sliding onto the floor. He didn’t notice. “The study was thorough and peer-reviewed.”

“And you disagree,” Asterion said.

Nikos looked up from the folder, then at Ria, then back at Asterion. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The satyr chewed his lip for a moment before pushing his glasses up again. “I think the study was well-conducted for what it measured. But I also think they were looking at the wrong time.”

Ria leaned forward. “What do you mean, the wrong time?”

Nikos opened the folder and spread several hand-drawn sketches across the desk. They showed a low-growing plant with pale, silvery leaves and a root system that spread wide and shallow. “Moonmoss isn’t like other plants. It doesn’t photosynthesize the way most flora does. It feeds on moonlight. Specifically”—he tapped one of the drawings—“the light of the full moon.”

“So, during the day…” Ria began.

“You’d never find it. It retracts completely underground. Roots, leaves, everything. The study was conducted entirely during daylight hours and over a two-year period. They surveyed the known growth sites, found nothing, and concluded it was gone.” He shrugged. “No one thought to go back at night.”

“You did?” Ria asked.

Nikos pulled his glasses off and cleaned them on his lab coat. “I went out once, a few years ago on a full moon, to one of the old growth sites.” He put the glasses back on and blinked. “I didn’t find Moonmoss.”

Asterion’s jaw tightened. “Then why’d ye⁠—”

“But”—Nikos held up a finger—“I found evidence that something had been growing there recently. The soil displacement was consistent with the same shallow root network as Moonmoss, as well as traces of mineral deposits it leaves behind once it’s time to retract.” He paused. “My department head said it was inconclusive and suggested I focus my research elsewhere. But…” He spun around and pulled out some papers from the bottom drawer of the file cabinet behind him. “I kept all my notes and research.”