The original Saintess stood in a dark clearing in the middle of the Sacred Forest. There was a soft glow around her, as if she was shining with her own inner light. Her long, wavy hair swayed gently in the breeze.

Her hand was resting on the trunk of a tree, and she was looking up into its branches, a concerned expression on her face.

She was looking up at Sister Eva, trapped in the branches of the tree. The branches had twisted around her limbs so tightly she could barely move. It was almost like the tree, guided by the hands of a skilled gardener, had grown up and around Eva like she was a living trellis. Like some sort of disturbing topiary art.

Eva struggled against the restraints to no avail, her face twisted in fear and anger.

“You left her here,” said the Saintess. She turned around, making eye contact with Anne, who was watching the scene unfold from a few feet away. “You abandoned her.”

“I didn’t want to!” said Anne, horrified by what she was seeing. “I wanted to go find her! But Elyon said our pathway out of the forest was closing… and he said he would send his people to conduct a search… The elves do have a much better chance of finding her, and besides—“

The original Saintess ignored her, turning back to gaze up at Eva again. “I wouldn’t have abandoned her,” she said, her eyes full of compassion. “I wouldn’t have left her behind.” The Saintess paused for a moment, then knitted her brow in confusion. “No, that’s not right,” she said, removing her hand from the tree trunk. “I did leave her behind. Why did I leave her behind? Where did I go?”

Anne approached carefully. “Do you know how to help her? I can go help her, if you—“

“Why would I want to help her?” snapped the Saintess, glaring at Anne. “After everything she’s done? After everything that happened? Over and over and over and—“

“What?!” said Anne, thrown for a loop. In her previous dreams, the Saintess had been plenty mysterious and confusing, but she hadn’t been quite this confused. Now she was talking in circles. “What do you mean after everything she’s done? What did Eva do?”

The Saintess grew quiet again. She looked up at Eva and the expression of compassion returned. “What did she do?” The Saintess reached a hand out towards the trapped cleric. “She saved me. She stayed by me. She shaped me. She gave me everything. I wish I had never met her. If the Goddess had an ounce of mercy in her shriveled soul she would have struck me dead on that church doorstep before any of this ever started.”

Something about the bitterness with which the Saintess spoke this final sentence sparked something in the back of Anne’s mind. A half-formed thought, or maybe a memory. Something Elyon had said in the Forest earlier… A connection she hadn’t quite made yet.

Oh!

Oh no.

Anne had a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach.

The Saintess had gone quiet again. She was staring off into the distance with a blank expression, like she was lost in thought.

“Saintess?” said Anne, carefully touching her shoulder to get her attention.

“Hmm?” said the Saintess, turning back to her with a soft smile, all traces of anger and bitterness gone from her face.

“I rarely get the chance to actually talk to you much in these dreams, and there’s something important I need to ask you…” said Anne.

“Yes, what is it?”

“In these dreams, I’ve seen you several times… it’s not very clear, but I’ve seen you walking through the Sacred Forest, following some ruins… Elyon told me today that… following that path is how elves die. I never actually finished reading The Foundling’s Wings and now I’m wondering if, in the end… Saintess, did you… try to kill yourself?”

The Saintess smiled wider.

The scene shifted around them, and once again Anne found herself on that path, surrounded by ruins. The Saintess stood in front of her, now looking much rougher. She was barefoot, and her feet were bleeding.

“I wanted to get out,” said the Saintess. “I wanted it to stop. I thought she would help me, but she wouldn’t help me. I was looking for her. I kept looking for her. Over and over and over and…”

The Saintess turned her head away.

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“I found my own way out,” she continued. “But it didn’t turn out how I thought. I don’t… I don’t know where I am. I can feel myself slipping… bits of me getting chipped off, a little bit at a time. Crumbling away. It takes everything I have just to hold onto what I have, and I have less and less and less. I don’t know why I…”

Suddenly the Saintess grabbed Anne’s shoulders, her face twisted in desperation again. “You have to destroy it!” she shouted. “It must still have a hold on me! That’s what went wrong, I’m sure of it! You have to shatter it completely so that there’s nothing left! Cut every thread, sever every string, break down the words to their component letters and then break down the letters so there’s nothing but random lines. Burn it, turn it to ash!”

“What? What are you talking about?” asked Anne, trying to break out of the Saintess’ grasp. Her fingernails were digging into Anne’s shoulders, breaking skin. Even in a dream, it hurt. “I don’t understand! You can’t just shout riddles at me, you have to tell me directly what it is you want me to do, or I can’t help you! What exactly do you want me to destroy!?”

The Saintess grabbed Anne’s lapels and pulled her in close, so close their noses were almost touching, and she hissed the answer.

----------------------------------------

Anne woke with a start to find that Corvina had been gently shaking her, a concerned expression on her face.

“Are you okay?” asked Corvina. “You were tossing and turning, and you looked distressed.”

Anne’s mind was still groggy with sleep, but she couldn’t let herself fully wake up, not just yet.

“A paper!” Anne said. “A piece of paper and a pen! Quickly, please. It’s hard to… it’s hard to remember after I wake up. I have to write it down, quickly! It’s important.”

Corvina stood up and went over to the desk, fishing around for the requested items.

They were in a lavishly decorated room, full of bright shades of green and pink. Every surface was covered with different indoor plants and knick knacks.

Anne hadn’t wanted to sleep at the temple without Eva there. Truthfully, Anne didn’t really know how to talk to the other clerics. Eva usually acted as an intermediary between Anne and the church hierarchy, so Anne didn’t really know any of the others all that well… It just felt awkward. Especially with Eva missing… she didn’t want to have to answer questions about that at the moment.

Anne might have gone back anyway, except that Corvina had insisted that she should come along to the Tulin estate with her. That had also been a bit awkward, but with the assassin currently lost in the forest, the Marquess and his partner had decided that Anne’s presence didn’t pose too much of a threat to their family. So the ban had been lifted and Anne had been allowed to stay the night.

Corvina brought Anne a blank journal with a plush green cover and a quill pen. She set the ink pot on the nightstand so it wouldn’t spill.

Sitting up in bed, Anne dipped the pen and quickly scribbled on the first page of the journal. Just two words.

With the most important things recorded, Anne sighed and put the journal down.

Corvina was sitting patiently by the side of the bed.

“Did you have a vision?” Corvina asked.

“Sort of…” said Anne.

Corvina went to pick up the journal and then paused, looking at Anne for permission. Anne paused for a moment, then nodded.

Corvina picked up the journal and looked at it. “The story,” she read. She put the journal back down. “That’s it? The story? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know…” said Anne. “I think I’ve been missing some essential details for a while now… It feels really important that I figure it out, but I don’t even know where to start.”

Corvina smiled and put a reassuring hand on Anne’s shoulder. “When I’m stuck on something, I usually find it helps to get working on something else. Your mind will continue working on the problem in the background, and when you come back to it later, you might not be so stuck anymore.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Anne, with a wan smile.

“I’m sure being worried about your friend going missing isn’t helping either…” said Corvina. “And I’m sorry about that. But I’m positive Eva is going to be okay, so you shouldn’t worry too much.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure she’ll be okay, too…” said Anne. “Mostly I just feel guilty for leaving without her, like I abandoned her. I know if our positions were reversed, she never would have left the Sacred Forest until she knew I was safe and sound. I know she can be… a lot sometimes, but she’s a really loyal friend. And I feel bad about how much we’ve been fighting lately, too. And… I think I need to ask her about some things.” Anne sighed. “Also… I think she might be stuck in a tree. Like, really trapped in there.”

Corvina raised an eyebrow. “Stuck in a tree?”

Anne shrugged. “Maybe… My dreams aren’t always literal, but…”

“Well, stuck in a tree or not, I’m sure the elves of the Sacred Forest are much better qualified to find her and help her than we would be,” said Corvina.

“Yeah, I know…” said Anne.

“I’m sure the elf princes will find her and bring her back soon enough,” said Corvina, with a reassuring smile. Then she stood up. “In the meantime, it’s best to stay busy to keep your mind off things. First things first, we really need to write the fake ransom letter to send to my father, so this whole fake kidnapping plan won’t have been for nothing. And… there are a few things I want to talk to you about, too.”

Corvina’s expression when she said this was inscrutable. Did Corvina want to talk to her about good things or bad things? Anne wasn’t sure how much new information she could take today. She already had a bit of a headache.

Remember when I first arrived in this world? thought Anne. And I just got to hang out and eat pastries all day? I want to eat those pastries again...

Anne sighed. “Okay,” she said. “Just let me get dressed, and I—“

There was a knock on the door, but whoever it was clearly considered the knock to be more of an announcement than a request for permission, because immediately after that the door swung open.

Justine, the woman who would be Marchioness if she had been of noble birth, stood in the doorway. Her arms were folded, she was glaring, and was tapping her foot on the ground—the universal language of angry mothers everywhere.

Behind her stood a woman wearing the colors of the Wyernmal estate, looking sheepish.

“Lady Corvina,” said Justine. “Would you kindly inform me as to why I found your agent skulking around in my library?”