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"I'm happy to answer all of your questions," she said with a hint of a smile in her voice. I heard the rustle of fabric as she shifted on the couch, probably to face me. "I'll start with your heritage. I am a banshee. I suspect there is some witch in my family line. Probably way back so far no one remembers it. I sometimes have some small visions or premonitions that align more with a stray witch gene than with my family's banshee powers. But for the most part, I'm banshee through and through. It is… a set of gifts that not all would wish to possess, but I came to love that part of myself just as much as any other, before the emperor came along."

I understood what she meant. I didn't enjoy seeing other people's deaths. And I had a feeling there was more to being a banshee. Things I probably hadn't discovered or experienced yet, all of them related to death.

"Your father was a powerful witch with rare abilities. The older covens called his kind shaman. Though, that word has come to mean different things in some human cultures. Medicine man. Lightbringer. Shapeshifter. There are so many terms that are applied to people like him. Many times, it is all symbolic. But sometimes it is… more." She sighed. "Your father had a great talent for discovering what people needed—figuring out the underlying causes of illness, and crafting remedies or ceremonies with powerful healing. He could also shapeshift. Not in the way that we usually mean when we talk about shifters," she rushed to add. Then her voice turned wistful. "He could project his consciousness outward, connect to animals and see through their eyes, gather information, understand their unique perspective and draw on their energies as if he had become them." She paused, and I thought perhaps she was lost in memory. Then she cleared her throat and continued her history lesson. "He told me once, when we first met, that long ago there were many witches like him, medicine people connected to nature in every tribe and community of people around the world. But their numbers dwindled over time, with the rise of human technology and industrialization, with new religions and the move away from the quiet power of nature."

I took this all in. The Order of the Tripple Moon had kept me so sheltered, fed me lies and misinformation. There was so much I didn't know about the paranormal world, even now. But her words resonated with me. And I was excited to finally understand some of what I could do. "I can talk to animals," I said softly. "I can understand them, and they can understand me. And… they seem drawn to me."

"Like a cartoon princess," Sanka said with a chuckle. His voice startled me. I had forgotten he was there for a moment. "You should see her in a forest, critters poppin' up everywhere just to take a look."

Achlys chuckled. "Well, that gift certainly came from your father. Most animals seem to avoid banshees unless they are ill or dying. I think they can sense that we are a bridge to the other side."

I didn't like the sound of that at all, and I was so grateful that my abilities drew my animal friends closer, rather than scaring them away.

"Do you have any other abilities?" Achlys asked curiously. "Crafting healing potions, maybe? Premonitions? Sometimes mixed-blood children are nearly human. But sometimes, especially if either of the parents are particularly strong, they can express powerful and unique talents that draw from each of the paranormal bloodlines involved and create something new."

Her words were clinical. Impersonal. But there was something in her voice or in her aura that told me she was dying to know more about me, but holding back. I didn't think it was because she was a spy or because she had some nefarious purpose. Robin and some of the others would say I was too quick to trust. And maybe sometimes they were right. But this time it just felt natural. Like now. I didn't believe this woman was here to hurt us.

"I have healing powers," I said softly. I reached out a hand and after only a second's hesitation, she grasped it. Her hand was small in mine, delicate and cool to the touch. I let my healing power extend to her through our touch, warm and golden as honey in the sunshine, healing every cell in her body and filling her with wellness. She wasn't ill or injured. Maybe a bit malnourished. Nothing major. But using my power didn't deplete me, unless I really overextended myself. I needed to bleed off some of my power regularly or I would get overloaded by my own magic, and there hadn't been much opportunity to heal people while I was among the fae.

She squeezed my hand in surprise. "Oh! That was… I feel amazing. You can heal through just a touch?"

I nodded as I drew my power back. I released her hand, but she clung to me. I allowed it, letting our clasped hands fall to rest on her lap as she covered them with her other hand, like she might never let me go. "I can," I admitted. "And I get the banshee visions sometimes. Usually when the person involved is someone close to me, or when their fate is involved in what is happening around me, I think. It hasn't happened all that often. It's a relatively new development." I shrugged. "I don't know what else I can do, because I haven't really tried… I had no idea where to start. As far as premonitions and things like that… sometimes I get a feeling about things. But it's not always right. And I'm not sure if that's magic, or just my own worry."

She patted the back of my hand. "Witches and banshees mature at different speeds, but given that you are a combination of us both, I'd say you're probably just now coming into your full range of powers. You might develop more or stronger abilities for another few years still, maybe more."

I didn't know how to feel about that information. On one hand, I wanted to be as strong as possible, so I could hold my own here amid the rebel court. But I was already a bit overwhelmed with the abilities I did have. I was happy being a healer. I wasn't sure I could handle much more. Especially if it had to do with death and dying.

"How did you end up with the emperor?" I asked, redirecting the conversation away from me and back to what I really wanted to know—how I had ended up in the hands of the cult of The Tripple Moon.

She let out a heavy sigh. "Your father and I—and eventually you as well—lived a charmed life. At first. He and I were both rare and powerful paranormal types. We had all the advantages of being upper class. We had value to the syndicate, so they treated us well, wooed us to keep us happy and on their side. But eventually we woke up and realized how poorly the syndicate treated everyone else. How they extorted, abused, or abandoned those who weren't so blessed with power or social status." She squeezed my hands. "It wasn't right, and once we realized how bad the rot was, well, we couldn't keep playing along with the emperor's games. We left the syndicate. Your father spoke out. He advocated for those who were less privileged. We asked for change. We advocated for better treatment for all paranorms. Not just the chosen few."

She was quiet for a moment before she continued.

"His death was a message. To everyone he inspired. To all the people who thought about following in his footsteps. He left one evening and took you with him to get us all ice cream from the corner store. I sang your deaths moments later. But though I tried, rushed out after the two of you… you had vanished. There was nothing I could do to stop it. They left his body on our doorstep. He was badly burned, probably ambushed by a group of spellcasters." She let out a shaky breath. "As if that wasn't enough," she said, her voice cracking, "they also left the body of a child. She was so badly burned she was unrecognizable, and I couldn't bear to really look at her, to see what they had done to my baby."

She sniffled and I squeezed her hand, empathizing with the pain and horror she must be reliving. "The emperor came for me that night. He told everyone that I had disagreed with my husband's crazy ideas and willingly chose to pledge my loyalty to the syndicate. I tried to fight, but he had me drugged. Eventually, I just… gave up. I realized that fighting got me nowhere. That I would never escape his grasp, even if I did somehow manage to run away. No one would help me or shelter me. They all knew what happened to people who spoke out against the emperor. They wouldn't risk their own families ending up dead."

"Oh, Achlys," I whispered, my heart aching for her. "I'm so sorry."

She squeezed my hands and spoke through her tears. "I should have kept fighting. I should have refused to help that monster avoid the death he deserves. But I was weak. I thought I had nothing to live for. Nothing to fight for. I had lost everything. I still looked for ways to subvert his control and his checks and balances, but not with any real hope. At most, I thought maybe I could find a way to lie to him when I saw his death, and that whatever happened to end him would take me too." She sniffed and seemed to regain some of her composure. "But then I had a vision. It was yet another in a long line of assassination attempts. But this time, it was accompanied by another vision that was more of a premonition than a banshee song. I saw you. I knew you in an instant, that you were my daughter, standing there with your father's features, and my hair and eyes, and… something in the vision that told me we shared the same blood."

She gripped my hand harder, as if she could will me to understand why she had done what she did. "I saw that the dragon could lead me to you. And so, I let the emperor escape his death. I manipulated the emperor into running and leaving me behind. It was the only way to ensure I didn't die in the attack. I saved my own life and let him live in the process. But it was the only way to see you again."

I was shaken to my core. I knew the emperor and the syndicate were nothing more than a gang of thugs high on power. But this. This was personal. And it was heartrending.

"If I'm alive, maybe my father is too," I said, the wheels spinning in my head, hope flaring to life. "They faked one death, so why not the other? Maybe he's being held captive somewhere."

But she killed the hope before it could fully blossom. "No, Ruya. No. I saw his body. It wasn't as badly damaged as the child's. It was my husband. I sang his death. I saw it happen. I know in my heart and soul that he's gone."

I shook my head. "But… wait. You didn't see my death?"

"Thank you." Sanka's soft words alerted me to Josh's arrival.

"Here you are, ma'am," he said from nearby, and I felt Achlys move about as she took her cocoa.

"I saw your death, but it was different," she answered my previous question, apparently comfortable with Josh in the room. He had that effect on people, made them feel safe and warm. "I've pondered that question constantly since coming here," Achlys said slowly, "and… I think someone interfered with my abilities. That's the only explanation that makes sense."

"Is that possible?" Sanka asked, sounding concerned. "That would take some strong magic."

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