The Emerald-Opal Heir - 7

The Healer

Clara didn’t let herself believe that Beckett was actually trying to help them. She didn’t let herself believe that the ball could’ve been a trap, that the message was an actual warning. Because that meant Beckett still had the hint of goodness in him, and that made it harder to hate him. 

“How do we know that Beckett isn’t trying to fake us out?” she interrupted, already feeling the nausea creep into her stomach. “He could be lying or even trying to warn someone else.” 

Brooke scoffed. “Who else does Beckett know that he would be sending letters to about a ball?” She crossed her arms, looking bored. “We know nothing about this ball or who is invited besides whoever this was supposed to be sent to.” 

“The name on the envelope is Lady Miranda of the Crossover Forest,” Morgan offered. “It seems like she’s inviting the lords and ladies from each patron land if I were to guess. I didn’t think the Crossover Forest was considered a patron land though.” 

“It normally isn’t,” Margo agreed. “But Baelle runs things differently.” 

She sure did. In fact, if someone told Clara when she first joined the Sprite Hunters that one day she would lose her best friend, that she the only people she cared for would be tortured and killed by a rogue goddess, and that the goddesses would be on the verge of falling she would never have believed them. 

“So do you think all the messages were the same?” asked Rae. “Did all the lords and ladies get the same invitation?”

“Probably,” Calli shrugged. “It’s easier that way.” 

“So all of them say danger,” Emmeline clarified, her voice quiet. “I’m surprised Baelle didn’t catch it.”

“Maybe she did,” Calli countered. “It could be Baelle’s idea of scaring us away.”

“That implies that Baelle knew we would get our hands on a letter,” Margo reminded them. 

Clara wasn’t sure what to think about the whole predicament. 

On one hand she wanted to believe that Beckett still cared enough that the danger message was true and that the warning was actually legit. She wanted to keep all of her friends alive too, and their best chances at survival were in not attending whatever this ball was. 

However, Clara still couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive Beckett. He was siding with Baelle and whether he thought it was a good decision or not, he’d harmed Emmeline and Newt. Clara also didn’t want to leave Bones to the mercy of the silver palace prisons and Baelle’s wrath. An attack on the castle meant a chance at helping him escape and saving whatever was left of her makeshift family. 

“Let me get this straight,” Morgan interjected. “We intercepted a letter for some Lady Miranda from the very prince who betrayed us for Baelle, and now we’re debating if the warning hidden in the letter was meant for us? Isn’t the obvious choice to listen and stay away?”

“This could be our only chance to take Baelle out before she becomes too strong,” Newt pointed out, and Clara found herself agreeing with him. 

“Even if the warning was meant for us - which we don’t know if it was - we can over prepare. Baelle might not know that we’re aware of whatever trap she might set,” Clara said. “We can use that to our advantage.”

“You’re not actually considering storming the castle, are you?” Calli groaned. 

“It’s definitely something we need to consider,” Newt retorted. “This may be our only chance to take her out before she becomes too powerful.” 

Or before she took out Emmeline, Clara wanted to add. 

That was yet another risk that came with attacking Baelle in her home turf. Emmeline was the only one who could kill the goddess, but if Emmeline were to die beforehand, it would be the end. 

The group continued to argue over whether or not infiltrating the castle during the ball would be worth it, but at this point Clara was barely paying attention. 

Baelle would be at the ball, and so would Beckett. Whether they were expecting her or not, Clara resolved that she would be there. Even if the others tried to stop her from leaving, Clara would make sure she arrived at the ball. And either she would drag Baelle to Emmeline or she would convince Beckett to take care of the goddess once and for all. She would free Bones, make Beckett be good again, and ensure no one else had to die. Maybe there was a tiny part of her that might enjoy being the hero that finally ended Baelle. 

“ -take a lot of planning, but we have a week,” Newt was saying when Clara finally turned back to the conversation. 

Calli frowned. “It’s risky, but…” Her voice trailed off. “Put it to a vote. We’re going to need pretty much everyone if we want a chance of succeeding.” 

A vote sounded reasonable enough. The others nodded a bit, but it was Newt who spoke first. 

“I say we go for it,” he said. “We have plenty of time to plan and travel.” 

“I agree,” Rae added, her bright eyes suddenly steely. “It’s our best chance, and now all of us are together. Nothing can stop us.”

Except Baelle possibly, Clara almost corrected, but she kept her mouth shut. 

“I think I speak for all of my siblings when I say it’s probably our best shot,” Margo sighed. Bethany and Morgan made no argument, which Clara took as a vote for yes from both. 

Brooke gave a shrug, tossing her hands in the air. “Alright, I’m in too. Even if Beckett chose to side with Baelle, he doesn’t deserve to be stuck with her.” 

“I’ll do it for Coral,” Forrest announced. Clara noted the way his fists clenched when he said her name. The way he glanced to his side as if wondering what she was thinking. “She would want us to take the risk.”

“You guys won’t stand a chance without me,” Calli grumbled at last. 

“And there’s no way that I’m not coming too,” Clara found herself saying. She was glad so many of the others were agreeing to help, it would be good to have back-up even if she had to share some of the glory. 

All eyes turned to Emmeline, waiting to see what she would say. 

Clara watched Emmeline pale slightly, her hand straying to Newt’s. She obviously had her reservations, and Clara understood why. Both times Emmeline had tried to face Baelle before, she’d ended up dancing the line between life and death. There was no way of telling if she’d come back this time. 

“Go for it,” Emmeline whispered at last, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “Let’s make Baelle pay once and for all.” 

It would have been a lot more inspiring if she’d sounded like she believed it. 

Clara didn’t join her friends for lunch, or even for dinner. Her stomach growled in protest but she couldn’t bring herself to eat. Instead, she forced herself to write a letter to Lola, explaining what would be occurring in the next few weeks. 

It was hard to write a letter when she was sure it might be her last. Any excitement she’d felt earlier about the prospect of raiding the silver palace was gone now, replaced by fear and nervousness. They knew nothing about what the ball was actually about or Baelle’s plans or Beckett's loyalties. All they had was a vague idea of the layout of the corridors - which were based purely on Clara, Newt, and Emmeline’s memories - the latter of the two which were fuzzy. 

Dear Lola. Clara’s pen stopped, hovering over the blank parchment. How to tell her sister that she was going on a dangerous adventure that would most likely end in someone dead. 

My friends and I are heading out soon to see if we can take Baelle down while she’s distracted. It’s a bit risky, but don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I always have been. 

She crossed out the last line, afraid that it sounded bitter. 

I want you to tell mom and dad that I am alive. I know I should send the letter myself, but I don’t think I’m brave enough. Don’t tell them who I’m with or what I’m doing, just mention you saw me and talked to me and I’m alive and well. Give them my best regards. On second thought, don’t. They don’t deserve it. 

She scratched out those two lines as well. 

If I don’t come back, promise me that you’ll make me a grave and lay some death daisies on it. You wouldn’t understand, but it’s something … something really important to me. 

It was too much to ask to be buried next to Johnny. His grave was somewhere in Ibeni, his body laid to rest among the flowers in the meadow he loved so dearly. Lola wasn’t far from the meadow, but Clara didn’t feel like she deserved to rest among the flowers. 

I’ll try my best to stay alive, but I don’t want to die without saying goodbye.

With love, Clara. 

She sealed the letter away and realized she had no way of sending it. Goddesses, why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? 

Clara debated asking Ernest to carry the letter to Lola for her, but she knew she shouldn’t treat him like her servant when he was actually Emmeline’s brother. Still, she’d yet to summon a Guide of her own and Ernest was the only option. 

She sought him out and found him in his childhood home, sitting on the floorboards by a child’s bed. His face was buried in his hands, and he didn’t look up when Clara came to him. 

Their exchange was quick, Clara feeling shame burn her cheeks when she asked if he would be willing to take her letter. He agreed almost immediately, shifting into the bluish fox form that Clara knew all too well. Feeling a little better about the whole situation, she decided to practice her fighting skills for a little bit. 

It took an hour or so to scavenge the supplies she needed for a dummy to fight against. An old chair, two clothing hangers, and a bucket of nearly dried paint later, she’d created a mess of parts that vaguely resembled a human. 

She sat it up in front of one of the smaller houses so she had a bigger yard to use. 

Clara didn’t go anywhere with a pair of twin daggers nowadays. One of them was a gift from Gwen that never left her side - the blade a rose gold hue and the pommel topped with an amethyst crystal. The other was from Bones, something she’d discovered in her bags of stuff upon setting up camp in the Library of Knowledge. The blade was normal enough except the edges were engraved with tiny flower patterns. Although they didn’t match, Clara couldn’t care less.

What mattered was that they were sharp enough to hurt someone. And that Clara was skilled enough not to injure herself. 

Block. Stab. Slice. She ran through various attacks and moves she’d learned over the years. Honestly, Clara didn’t think that planned movements were practical during a real fight. Who had time to think? Her muscle memory would have to do which was why she forced herself to practice every once in a while. 

“Raise your elbows a bit.” 

Clara didn’t flinch at the sound of Forrest’s voice, though she did raise her elbow just a smidge. 

“Your stance is wrong,” he added. 

She shifted her feet slightly and took a swing at the makeshift dummy. The knife dug into the wood of the chair, getting stuck. 

“You missed,” Forrest said, and Clara could sense the wry grin on his face before she turned to glare at him. 

“I hit the target,” she corrected, ignoring his snickers as she struggled to yank her dagger out of the chair. When she finally managed to pull the dagger out, she stumbled backwards from the force and only earned more giggles from Forrest. “Fine then. Show me how it’s done.” 

“Gladly,” Forrest smiled and held out a hand for one of Clara’s daggers. 

She handed him one, just happy that he wasn’t an emotional mess right now. If he could be strong, then so could hse. 

The strike from Forrest was so fast that Clara actually missed it. One second, her dagger was in his hand the next it was buried in the dummy’s “neck”, the wood split open from the blade. Forrest handed Clara back the weapon and she took it reluctantly. 

“Show off,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear. 

Forrest stuck out his tongue playfully and Clara felt a smile forming on her face. She missed the simple times where all life consisted of was teasing and fun. 

“Y’know, you’re the one who taught me all of this, so it’s your fault if I make any mistakes,” Clara said as she took up her fighting stance again and prepared to plunge her dagger into the dummy’s chest. 

Forrest gently adjusted the angle of her arm before taking a step back so she could attack. Much to her chagrin, the knife hit exactly where she was aiming with enough force to splinter the wood. 

“I taught you everything, it’s your fault if you didn’t listen,” Forrest said. “There was also the fact that Gwen had originally forbidden any fighting lessons for you and Johnny. I wasn’t about to go against her wishes.” 

True enough. Once Gwen found out that Johnny and Clara had been sneaking sword lessons, she’d been fine with it. But before that, she’d expressed her distaste against training. 

Clara raised her daggers again, this time opting for a parry and attack. Forrest stepped in and moved her hands slightly and she was surprised by how soft his touch was. When he took another step back, she followed through with the move and succeeded in parrying and stabbing with much less effort. 

And so the time passed, Clara attempting moves and Forrest fixing things about each one. Her feet were too far apart, her arms weren’t bent enough, her fingers were too close together. 

“I might do better with a live target,” Clara suggested with a subtle look in Forrest’s direction. 

He arched an eyebrow. “Real fights are a lot harder than imaginary ones.”

“I fight better when I don’t have to think,” Clara said, not bothering to hide the defensive hint to her voice. 

Forrest sighed. “Alright.” And without even looking up, “Brooke, why don’t you stop hiding and come down here and fight?”

Clara felt heat rise to her cheeks as a sheepish Brooke emerged from the bushes surrounding the tiny arena. In Brooke’s grasp was a sword that had to be too big for her, the blade drooping towards the ground. 

“How did you know I was there?” Brooke asked as she approached. 

Forrest gave a small shrug. “I’m perceptive.” 

“So perceptive that he missed Coral flirting with him for several months,” Clara said before immediately regretting it. She clamped her mouth shut as Forrest’s face fell. She caught his fingers clenching and unclenching. “Sorry.”

Forrest’s voice was emotionless when he spoke. “You’re fine, Clara. Why don’t you two take a few steps back and we can start the duel.”

Clara dropped her head, trying to let Forrest sense that she was truly sorry. 

It was Brooke who finally broke the silence. “It’s okay to miss her - and I don’t say that to just one of you. Both of you were her friends and you have every right to mourn.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Forrest mumbled. “Brooke, a step or so back-”

“You can’t ignore this forever,” Brooke interrupted. Clara looked up to see Brooke’s hands on her hips, sword hanging by her side and no longer looking useless. “Both of you are in pain and you refuse to talk about it. Would Coral have wanted this?”

It’s not just Coral, Clara almost said. It was Titus, sacrificing himself so that she could live. It was Johnny, her best friend in the whole world leaving her behind. It was Beckett, for goddess sakes, leaving her for the very person she hated the most in the world. Because everyone that Clara let hold a sliver of her heart turned around only to shatter her into pieces. And though she’d lost so many, she couldn’t imagine what Forrest was feeling by losing Coral. His other half, gone. 

“Can we just get on with the fight?” Forrest said at last. 

“Agreed,” Clara said through gritted teeth. 

Brooke met Clara’s eyes, a pale blue that was so much like Beckett’s that Clara had to look away. “We’ll have this conversation later.” 

Not if I can help it. 

“Pretend this a real battle,” Forrest explained, a small tightness to his voice. “You two are aiming to kill - but don’t actually do it because it’s messy. For now, focus on the opportunity for a final strike.” 

Clara nodded, feeling the rush of adrenaline numb her mind. 

Brooke obviously had never experienced a real fight before because she didn’t know how to hold her sword. 

Take it easy on her, a tiny voice in Clara’s head whispered. She’s just a girl. 

Brooke stumbled forward and Clara couldn’t help but wonder who that sword belonged to. She waited until the last second to dodge, building Brooke’s confidence. If Forrest noticed, he said nothing. 

Clara let the little game continue for a while, even letting Brooke nearly take off her arm once. She added a few of her own attacks just so it seemed genuine. 

She knew she was probably making a mistake by allowing Brooke to believe she was a good warrior, but she couldn’t bear to break the little girl’s heart. Brooke tired quickly as well, and soon Clara had no choice but to end the match. 

She wiped Brooke’s legs out from under her with a quick swipe, knocking the smaller girl to the ground. Clara then straddled Brooke’s wiggling form and aimed her knife towards Brooke’s throat. It was only supposed to be a show of the opportunity she had, but Brooke squirmed enough that Clara’s knife missed, slicing open a thin gash in Brooke’s neck. 

In reality, the cut was next to nothing and would’ve healed even without Clara’s Blessing. 

But suddenly Clara was thrown backwards, her breath caught in her throat as a green light seeped from Brooke’s skin. It spiraled through the air, wrapping around Clara’s throat and tightening, sucking the air from her lungs. 

“Brooke!” Forrest’s voice barely registered in Clara’s mind as her vision tinged dark at the edges. 

I will not die this way. 

She could feel her Blessing tingle to life at her fingertips, already working to replenish a bit of the oxygen Clara needed, but it wouldn’t last for long. 

Not that it mattered because a second later, the green light dissipated, dropping Clara to the ground. She gulped down precious mouthfuls of air, her lungs seizing. There was a lot of yelling but her brain didn’t want to listen to it. 

“Clara, are you alright?” Forrest. The voice had a name now. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, pushing herself into a sitting position. “Where’s Brooke? Is she okay?”

Apparently it hadn’t occurred to Forrest to check, because they both glanced over at Brooke’s now unconscious body. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths, alleviating some of Clara’s worry. The rest of her nerves were spared for the spirals of green that now snaked down Brooke’s arms. No silver, just emerald. 

There was no question about it, Brooke was a child of the Green Kingdom.

Author's Note

Sorry it took so long to publish this - I was away for a week. Motivation is also proving difficult for this part of the story so any comments are welcome. It's about to pick up pace, so stay tuned and happy Reading!