Chapter 3

The grief, the shock, the physical toll of childbirth I' d barely recovered from – it all crashed down. I collapsed back in my room, a severe postpartum hemorrhage stealing what little strength I had left.

Maya found me, her face a mask of terror. She ran for help, pleading with the guards.

She found Marcus Thorne.

"The First Lady is bleeding, heavily! She needs a doctor, now!" Maya cried.

Marcus looked at her, his expression unchanging. "The Governor has ordered all top medical staff to attend to Miss Hayes. She is suffering from nerves. It is a delicate time for her."

Veronica' s nerves versus my life. The message was clear.

"She'll die!" Maya insisted, desperate.

Marcus hesitated for a fraction of a second. "I will see what can be done."

He returned not with a doctor, but with Leo, a young groundskeeper from the estate. Leo was small, unassuming, his hands stained with earth.

"He says he has some basic medical knowledge," Marcus said, his tone dismissive. "It's the best I can do." He left.

Leo knelt beside me, his eyes surprisingly kind. "Mrs. Vance," he said softly. "My family... your people helped my grandfather, long ago. They performed the last rites when no one else would. We owe them a debt."

He looked around, then leaned closer. "I know a little of the old ways. I know of the Ghost Root."

My eyes widened. Ghost Root. A rare, potent herb, sacred to the Keepers. It grew only on the most dangerous, sheer cliff faces in the high mountains. It could grant a surge of vitality, a temporary reprieve from even death's door, but it always came at a cost.

"It's too dangerous," I whispered, my voice weak.

"I know where it grows," Leo said. "A place my grandfather showed me. He said it was sacred to your people."

Hope, a fragile thing, flickered within me. "I need it, Leo," I said, my voice gaining a sliver of strength. "Not just to escape. I need to be strong enough to lead my people home. All of them."

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "It will take time to fetch it. And the climb is treacherous."

"My grandmother always said," I murmured, a memory surfacing, "that true strength isn't about never falling, but about how you rise, and who you bring with you." She had cautioned me about outsiders, about Ethan. I hadn't listened.

"I will get it for you, Mrs. Vance," Leo said, his voice firm. "You will need your strength."

He slipped away as quietly as he came. I lay there, bleeding, waiting, clinging to that sliver of hope. I would endure. I had to.