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The tremor hit at six in the evening, when the market square was still crowded with vendors packing their stalls and children chasing each other through the narrow streets. Cressa felt it before anyone else.

Pain lanced through her chest like a knife between ribs. Not her pain. The Heartwood's pain.

She stumbled, dropping the basket of herbs she had been carrying. Dried lavender scattered across the cobblestones as she pressed both hands against her breastbone, trying to breathe through the agony that was not hers but felt as real as her own heartbeat.

The tree was screaming.

Around her, people continued their conversations, laughed at jokes, haggled over prices. They could not feel it yet. The connection between fairy and Heartwood was unique, intimate, and in Cressa's case, impossible to ignore despite twenty years of trying.

Another wave of pain crashed through her. This one brought her to her knees.

The cobblestones were cold and damp beneath her palms. Her vision blurred at the edges, gold light flickering at the corners of her eyes. Not here. Not now. Please, not here.

But the magic would not be contained. It never could when the Heartwood was dying.

The shockwave hit.

The ground bucked beneath her like a living thing. Screams erupted across the square as people lost their footing, as stalls collapsed, as the very stones beneath them cracked and shifted. The sound was deafening, a roar of breaking earth and splintering wood and raw magical feedback that made her ears ring.

Cressa curled into herself, pressing her forehead to the ground, trying to breathe. Gold light leaked from her fingers where they touched stone. She could feel the corruption now, spreading through the roots beneath the city like poison through veins. Black and ancient and utterly wrong.

Someone grabbed her arm.

She looked up, half-blind with pain, and saw silver armor gleaming in the fading light. Lord Riven stood over her, one gauntleted hand extended toward her prone form. His gray eyes were sharp with recognition, with the terrible understanding of someone who had finally found what he was looking for.

He saw me fall. He knows.

"You." His voice cut through the chaos with absolute authority. "Do not move."

But before he could reach her, another hand closed around her wrist. Gentle. Familiar. Smelling of old paper and chamomile tea.

Calix hauled her to her feet with surprising strength for a scholar. "Come on. Now."

"I cannot..." Her legs would not hold her weight. The connection to the Heartwood was still screaming through her bones, demanding her attention, demanding her help.

"Yes, you can." Calix wrapped an arm around her waist and half-carried, half-dragged her toward the nearest alley. "Move, Cressa. He's coming."

She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Riven pushing through the panicked crowd with lethal speed. His expression was cold, focused, the look of a predator who had just spotted wounded prey. Guards moved to flank him, silver armor cutting through the chaos like knives through silk.

Calix pulled her into the alley and they ran.

The narrow passage twisted between buildings, too tight for crowds, too dark for anyone to follow easily. Cressa's vision swam as Calix guided her around corners and through shortcuts she had not known existed. Her lungs burned. Her legs trembled. The pain from the Heartwood was fading to a dull ache, but exhaustion dragged at her with every step.

They emerged in a small courtyard behind the university, hidden from the street by high walls and overgrown vines. Calix eased her down onto a stone bench and crouched in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, his brown eyes searching her face with worried intensity.

"Breathe," he said. "Just breathe."

She tried. Her chest hitched with the effort, and gold light flickered across her skin before she could stop it.

Calix saw. Of course he saw. He had always seen too much.

"The Heartwood," she whispered. "It is dying, Calix. I felt it die."

"I know." His voice was unbearably gentle. "Everyone felt that tremor. The Council will convene an emergency session tonight."

"They will blame the fairies."

"Yes." He did not try to lie to her. That was one of the things she loved about him, his unwavering honesty even when the truth was terrible. "Lord Korran has been building a case against your people for months. This will be the excuse he needs."

Cressa pressed her hands over her face, trying to think past the exhaustion and fear. "I have to leave. Tonight. Before Riven..."

"It's too late for that." Calix's hands tightened on her shoulders. "He saw you collapse the moment the tremor hit. Before anyone else felt it. He knows you have a connection to the Heartwood."

"Then I am already dead."

"No." The word came out fierce, almost angry. "You are not dead. You are brilliant and powerful and you have survived worse than this. But Cressa, you cannot run. If you run, you look guilty. If you look guilty, every fairy in this district will pay the price."

She lowered her hands and met his gaze. "What do I do?"

"Tomorrow night, there will be a mandatory city assembly. Everyone must attend." Calix's expression was grim. "The Council will make their announcement. They will name their suspect. If you do not go, Riven will come for you. If you do go..."

"I walk into a trap."

"Yes." He helped her to her feet, steadying her when she swayed. "But at least you will see it coming."

The walk back to her shop took twice as long as it should have. Cressa kept to the shadows, avoiding the main streets where the Guard would be enforcing curfew and questioning anyone who looked suspicious. By the time she reached her door, full dark had fallen and the fairy district was eerily quiet.

She locked herself inside and climbed the stairs to her living quarters on trembling legs. Through the window, she could see lights burning in the tower where the Council convened. Shadows moved behind the glass, figures gesturing, arguing, making decisions that would determine the fate of everyone she cared about.

Cressa pressed her palm against the window and felt the familiar ache in her shoulders. The place where wings should have been. The place where power had been stolen.

If they want a monster, she thought, perhaps I should give them one.

The official announcement came at dawn, delivered by a guard who nailed the parchment to her door with unnecessary force. Mandatory assembly at sunset in the Grand Plaza. Attendance required for all citizens. Failure to comply would be considered admission of guilt.

Cressa stared at the notice until the words blurred together.

She had one day to decide if she would face her executioners with dignity or run and condemn everyone else in the process.

It was not really a choice at all.