Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

550 YEARS AGO

N ausea roiled in Andie’s throat as she stared at the storm’s destruction. A glance at her father and sister’s horror-stricken faces told her it wasn’t in her imagination. She walked to the middle of the field and knelt to pick up a stray cat chewing on one of the leaves ripped from the ground, waiting to see what her family would do.

A group of villagers stood just behind them, staring at the same ruination. Marcil was far enough inland to avoid the flooding that had been destroying cities to the north like Sandrin. But these new storms were growing in confidence.

Andie stroked the cat’s fur and hugged it close to her chest. Her mind was already racing through plans her sister would make. Fruits and vegetables, ripe and ready to pick only yesterday, were smashed and tossed in all directions. Bushes and stalks were torn from the ground, roots and all. The tornado had gone right through the middle of the village’s only farm field.

It had destroyed everything.

“What are we going to do?” one of the villagers asked. The gathered group looked directly at her sister, Cee. Andie recognized him. Garth helped Cee regularly, always ready to take on any new project she’d dreamed up.

Cee swallowed before replying. “We’ll replant—quickly.” She glanced at their father, who was still silent. “We’ll rally a group to start today.” Her hesitation was uncharacteristic. Maybe even Cee knew her well-organized plan wouldn’t be enough this time.

“I’ll help, of course,” Garth said. A dozen other villagers echoed his words.

Their father was still silent. Andie was curious what he would say.

“Do you agree, Father?” Cee asked, trying to draw him into the conversation. His brow was furrowed as he ignored them.

“We have some food stores to cover the deficit,” Andie added. She set the cat down and pulled the journal she and Cee kept from the inner pocket of her jacket. Flipping the pages, she found the number. It was less than she remembered.

Cee’s glare was icy as her gaze roamed the ruined field. She paused, waiting for their father to respond. When he didn’t, she said, “We only have stores for a month. We can’t afford to lose this much.”

Andie started writing in the journal. She would want a record of their decision. Cee was right. Even though they’d taken warnings from the disasters hitting neighboring villages and had started rationing early, it wouldn’t be enough.

The only way to fix this would be with blood magic.

Cee stooped, picked up an ear of corn, and tossed it onto the basket they’d brought. Anything intact enough to pick up, she did. It was futile. There was no way the scraps from this field could feed their village. But Cee, Garth, and a few others started collecting them anyway. It was in their nature to try every available practicality before relying on magic.

“Marcil needs this field. We have to replant immediately,” Cee said, again looking to her father for confirmation—for anything. Her ability to bear news like this and take action was part of why she was the natural successor to their father’s position as village leader. “If we start in shifts today, we can?—”

Their father cut Cee off. “Andie, I need you to take care of this.”

The cat she’d set down wrapped its tail around Andie’s leg, the soft brush pulling her back from the focus of her writing. Andie looked up and saw her father’s stare, her sister’s stiff posture. The words registered a few seconds too late. Then she wished she could collapse in on herself. Their father ignored Cee’s solid, practical plan in favor of her blood magic.

“I can’t just make the crops reappear,” Andie said. “The seeds need to be planted. Cee should organize?—”

“I can try it, Father,” Cee said, reinserting herself into the solution.

Their father had been fixated on blood magic since the natural disasters had increased. Magic was risky, and not all villagers supported it, but eating magically grown food was better than starving. All three had attempted to learn it, but only Andie was successful at the scale they needed.

Blood magic was easy for Andie. It made sense to her—it was a simple contract. She understood it the way Cee understood villagers and could convince them to follow her plans. The first time a windstorm swept through, Andie felt the land’s pain. It called out to her in anger, wanting someone—anyone—to realize the scale of what was happening and offer assistance.

Andie did so in exchange for magic.

She realized quickly that her father and Cee didn’t hear it. They were too focused on their people, their own problems, and their day-to-day survival to see the bigger picture. This connection with the land fueled her magic. Her blood offerings acknowledged what no one else seemed to notice. Something big was wrong on the continent. Someone needed to do something.

The gods certainly hadn’t—and wouldn’t.

“I know you’re nervous,” their father said, ignoring Cee’s offer and speaking directly to Andie. “But we know you can do this.” He turned to Cee. “Don’t we, darling?”

Cee finally received their father’s attention, only to urge her sister to save them all. Andie winced on her behalf. Cee had no choice but to reply. “Of course, Andie can do it. Her magic has saved us more than once.” She took the journal from Andie’s hands and started making her own notes.

Andie caught Garth’s eye as he looked away in disgust. He seemed more against the governor’s use of magic than most. However, it never stopped him from eating the food it produced.

Andie held back her eye roll. She wished things were different—wished their father saw Cee’s contributions, her ability to lead their people through challenging times. But now was not the time to dwell on it. If their father was set on magic solving their problem, she would need to put together a substantial offering to correct…all of this.

“I can do it, Father,” Cee said again, stepping forward.

Their father shook his head. “You’ve tried before, Cee. We can’t afford more mistakes.”

Cee’s head hung in shame. She could easily cut her skin and bleed, but without the connection to the land, she couldn’t access the required magic. Anything more complex than growing a few flowers was beyond her capabilities.

“Cee and I will work on replanting and putting together a worthy offering to the land,” Andie said. Her father nodded and put his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m counting on you,” he said. His eyes never left Andie’s—never acknowledging the twin daughter offering assistance beside him.

Andie sought Cee’s gaze, desperate to bring her into the plan, but Cee stubbornly refused to look at Andie and their father’s exchange. Andie swallowed around a lump in her throat, feeling the weight of her father’s expectation in the gentle squeeze of his hand on her shoulder.