Page 50

They pressed on, Asterion keeping to the front with Korinnae tucked between the adults. The forest grew denser, the canopy thinning enough that the full moon poured through the thick growth, lighting their way. Nikos slowed, scanning the ground on either side of the trail.

“There,” he whispered.

He pointed to a patch of ground at the base of an ancient oak where the moonlight fell straight down. At first, Asterion saw nothing. Then Ria crouched beside the spot and he saw a faint silvery glow rising from the soil, barely visible. Thin, delicate leaves no longer than his thumb were unfurling from the earth, pale and luminous, drinking in the moonlight.

“Moonmoss,” Nikos breathed, dropping to his knees beside Ria. His hands were shaking as he pulled a set of tools from his coat pocket. “It’s real. It’s actually real.”

Ria looked up at Asterion. Even in the dark, hope shone in her face. And for the first time in weeks, he, too, felt the same emotion.

They harvested carefully, Nikos guiding Ria’s hands as she extracted several clusters without disturbing the root network. He insisted they leave enough to regrow, and Ria agreed. The whole process took less than thirty minutes and Ria wrapped the Moonmoss in a cloth Nikos provided, placed it carefully in her satchel, and stood up.

“We should get back,” she said.

They hiked back, the adrenaline from the Lykaon encounter keeping everyone alert and moving faster than they had on the way there. By the time the greenhouse came into view, the moon had climbed high overhead and Korinnae was fighting to keep her eyes open, her steps slower and heavier with each passing minute. Asterion picked her up and she settled against him, her breathing turning even.

Back at the greenhouse, Ria and Nikos moved quickly. The satyr cleared a workbench with one sweep of his arm and Ria pulled the Moonmoss from her satchel and unwrapped it carefully, the silvery fronds still faintly glowing in the artificial light.

“We need to work fast.” Nikos was already pulling jars and instruments from a cabinet. “According to my research, once Moonmoss is separated from moonlight, it starts losing potency. If my calculations are correct, we’ve got maybe, oh an hour so, before the active properties begin to degrade.”

“Let’s do this,” Ria said, rolling up her sleeves.

Asterion stayed out of their way. He stood near the door with Korinnae asleep against his chest, her face tucked into his neck and one arm dangling at her side. He watched Ria and Nikos work, moving around each other efficiently. Nikos measured and ground the plant while Ria added threads of magic that turned the crushed Moonmoss from silver to a deep blue. It took all of forty minutes and by the end, Ria held up a small glass bottle filled with luminous blue liquid, inspecting it against the light.

“That’s it?” Asterion asked.

“That’s it.” She brought it over.

He shifted Korinnae in his arms and gently rubbed her back. “Korinnae. Wake up, lass.”

She stirred, blinking slowly. “Are we home?”

“Not yet. Ria needs you to drink something.”

The calf yawned and rubbed her face against his shoulder. “Is it yucky?”

Ria unstopped the bottle. “Probably.”

“Great,” Korinnae muttered.

She drank it anyway, grimacing through every sip until the bottle was empty. When she was done, she looked at Ria expectantly.

“Now what?”

“Just hold still for me.”

Ria placed both hands on Korinnae’s arm, closed her eyes, and let her magic spread. He could feel the warmth of it where his skin touched his niece’s, a faint tingling that traveled up his arms. Ria’s brow furrowed. Her fingers tightened on Korinnae’s arm. The seconds ticked away. Finally, she released her grip on the calf, but kept her hand steady.

“Did it work?” Nikos asked, his tone anxious and excited at the same time.

Ria blew out a breath. “Do you want the good news or bad news first?”

“Good,” Asterion found himself saying.

“It’s working,” she whispered. “The Moonmoss has slowed the poison significantly. The progression is almost at a standstill.”

“Almost?”

“That’s the bad news.” Her brows furrowed together. “The poison is still there. It’s just moving much, much slower.”