Page 96 of Scalebound

I walked toward where Nana stayed in the castle, Damian following behind me, and I didn’t stop him. Of course, he wouldn’t leave me alone, but I loved that about him—his protection.

My Nana lived in a cellar hidden behind a dense bush at the back of the castle. It could only be seen if you reached deep behind the shrub, pulling a silver-coated lever to open the cellar door.

I tried to lurk around the edges of the garden’s fencing, not to be seen. There was no one in sight, which seemed odd to me. Normally, my father would have at least a few knights lingeringon the grounds to ensure no one would trespass through the back of the castle.

I took it for the opportunity that it was. I ran to the distinct olive bush and reached my arm to the back of it as far as I could. Small twigs were clawing and scratching at my arms as I grabbed the handle and swiftly pulled it open. Forcing myself through the small opening of the bush, getting scratched in the process, I flooded down the stairs, and closed the top before anyone could see me. Damian stayed out the front, protecting me from the outside.

It was odd that my grandmother didn’t put a spell on this similar to my tower, but she sometimes said she liked the challenge of doing things like a clever non-magic mortal.

I made my way down the stone steps, the area obscure. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing me to see the slight shadow of each step.

“Grandmother?” I questioned, not knowing if she was here or if anyone was here, as a matter of fact. “Hello?” I continued, my voice echoing in the cemented bunker.

“Darling.” I heard her raspy voice. The cellar was dark and clammy. I could feel the moistness in the air, and could hear the dripping of water in corners and splashing into buckets. Following her voice, I found her sitting on a cot bed with a blanket shrouded over her fragile body. The distress in her eyes became prominent as the light in them lessened, replaced by a glossy yellow color. Her face had turned an unsettling green pallor.

“Nana!” I yelled, rushing to her side. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t come closer!” she yelled in a hoarse voice, her words cutting through the air with urgency. I hurried forward, eager to get a clearer view of her condition. Approaching closer, her face shone the sickly hue, dark bruises, and the pus-filled swollen boils that splattered along her skin.

My hand covered my mouth, the words spilling out. “No,” I gasped. “No, no, no,” I kept saying in disbelief. “You can’t,” I whispered, not wanting to believe what I saw before my eyes. Glancing around, I searched for a knife, anything to cut myself to use my blood to heal her.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “Your blood can’t heal what’s been done from old magic.” I wanted to ask why she never told me about my healing blood, but there were other concerns in mind.

“The Deathlies. It’s not you?”

“No, my child. It wasn’t me. I haven’t been truthful with you throughout these years, darling,” her voice was crackly and old, tinged with sickness. I wanted to hug and embrace her, holding her in my arms. She raised me. She was almost like a mother to me. She was there when my parents weren’t. She taught me everything that I knew about myself. She couldn’t die. Not from a disease that I hadn’t been able to stop. Hot tears pooled in my eyes.

“How?!” I begged. “How do I end them?” Emotions surged within me like a turbulent storm, a cacophony of anger and sorrow. The realization that I had arrived too late gnawed at my conscience, igniting self-blame that seeped into every fiber of my being. Weight of the responsibility bore down on me as I grappled with the agonizing truth that I had played a part in her fate. The thought of it pierced my soul, refusing to be ignored. Accepting her fate felt like an impossible task, a bitter pill I was not yet ready to swallow.

“Your father, he was born with the magic of the Old Religion,” she said.

“I thought that magic from the Old Religion wasn’t genetic? I thought that it could only be taught.”

“It can, but not always. It is usually genetic. I had to protect him. I couldn’t let anyone know,” she said, the sadness sucking into her voice. “He didn’t want it, but he had to accept that hewas born the way he was.” I related to her comment more than she probably understood.

“Father. He was in charge of this? All of it? Is he the cause of your misery, Nana?” How could my father be a part of any of this? Why would he have me go to the egg if he started this in the first place? “I don’t understand,” I muttered, feeling tears for the millionth time during my journey.

My grandmother opened her mouth to say something when I interrupted her.

“Wait. It makes sense. This isn’t all his doing. Someone is forcing him.”

“That’s my girl,” she said, her strained voice barely a whisper.

“My father threatened whoever was behind this with the idea of the egg. Then he told you what you told me, and then I went to find the map… Tobias. He had the map. But why? Then I stole it,” I started to recounter the events to understand the story, “then memorized the map, burned it, then left for it.” I thought of the knights that were following me. That were by the sea, asking for me. “Someone kept stopping me. Someone didn’t want me to find the egg. Someone was behind this all along.”

I remembered more than a week ago, on the day thatLaneux3 was killed, what my grandmother said: “You wouldn’t understand, girl. Maybe one day you will.” It made sense. There was something more than just my grandmother and my father being forced to use their magic from the Old Religion.

“If I stole the map from Tobias… Why did Tobias have the map? Oh, my scales! Tobias is behind this!” Everything started to unravel right before me. “Why would he force my father to use old magic to create the Deathlies? How?” I then remembered my mother: how sickly and bruised she looked. I thought that it was my father hurting her. “He was using my mother to force my father to do this? But it all comes down to… why?”

“I am unsure who stole the map, but I think you are right when you say Tobias. He has been acting weird and has been getting too close to your father. Fix this, Aurelia. Only you can.” I wanted to hold her hand and thank her for everything she had done. I knew that she was right, and I had little time. I must be the only person in the world trying to fix this, along with the Scalebound colony.

“Thank you, Nana,” I said, my heart brimming with gratitude. She nodded, the wrinkles around her eyes reminding me of the years she spent raising me, the years she spent molding me into the person I had become.

“Go,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “This kingdom is in desperate need ofyou.” We were running out of time.

I ran quickly up the steps and out of the dim room, reaching the outdoors. My feet collided with the soft grass as I reached the Scalebound, panting without breath. “I know who! It’s my father, and a man named Tobias. We don’t have much time. We have to break the connection.”

They followed behind me as we passed through the gardens and the glass doors that led into the ballroom. We had to find my father and Tobias. Tobias was using my father to create the connection, and he was using my mother as leverage. I felt so sick to my stomach that bile rose in my throat. This whole time, it had started within these walls.

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