Chapter 3

Weeks turned into months. The vibrant green of summer faded into the crisp gold of autumn. My strength dwindled with the dying leaves.

Sophia Wexler started visiting the stable block.

She'd stand in the doorway, a silk robe clutched around her, her expression a careful blend of pity and distaste.

"Keller tells me you're from the mountains," she'd say, her voice soft, like poisoned honey. "Such a harsh life."

She'd ask about tribal remedies, about plants. Her questions were always casual, but her eyes were sharp.

One day, she feigned a coughing fit, her hand pressed to her delicate chest.

"The doctors say my lungs are weak," she sighed, looking directly at me. "They can't seem to find anything that truly helps."

I knew what she wanted. The Sunbeam Vine's essence was a legendary healer.

Keller brought it up later that evening.

"Sophia is not well," he said, his tone flat. He avoided my eyes. "The doctors are useless."

He paused. "My mother's notes... they mention the Vine's power. For vitality. For healing."

He looked at me then, his gaze hard. "You will help her."

It wasn't a request.

They built a small, crude greenhouse near my cell. More of a cage, really. They brought soil from Sunbeam Ridge, a truckload of our sacred earth, desecrated.

And a few near-dead Sunbeam Vine cuttings, stolen by Remington's men.

"Make them grow," Keller ordered. "Bring them back."

He knew, or suspected, that it took my life force. My essence.

To nurture the Vine away from the Ridge, without the collective spirit of my tribe, without the mountain's ancient magic, was to pour my own soul into its roots.

Each day, I was forced into the greenhouse.

I'd kneel on the stolen earth, my hands trembling, and try to coax life into the withered stems.

It was agony. A slow, deliberate draining.

With each tiny leaf that unfurled, a part of me died.

Sophia would come to watch, a small, satisfied smile on her lips.

"Remarkable," she'd murmur, as if I were some interesting botanical specimen. "Keller says you have a gift."

She started taking the sap.

At first, just a few drops, mixed into her tea. She claimed it helped her breathe, gave her energy.

Keller watched the process, his face unreadable. Did he see me weakening? Did he care?

His only concern seemed to be Sophia's well-being.

Then, Sophia announced she was pregnant.

Keller was... transformed. A flicker of something like joy softened his harsh features when he looked at her.

But for me, it was a death sentence.

"The baby needs the best," Sophia declared, her hand resting possessively on her barely-there bump. "The Vine's essence will ensure its strength."

The demands increased.

More sap. Stronger concentrations.

They didn't care that the Vines were still fragile, that I was fading.

I was a resource to be exploited. My life, my tribe's legacy, reduced to a tonic for his unborn child.

Keller would stand by, silent, as Sophia's personal physician carefully extracted the precious golden liquid I'd bled my life into.

Sometimes, when the pain of the extraction was too much, and I swayed, Keller's hand would shoot out, steadying me.

His touch was rough, impersonal.

"Don't faint," he'd growl. "We're not done."

He was keeping me alive, but only to serve her.

To serve the child of the man who was destroying everything I loved.

The irony was a bitter acid in my soul.