Chapter 1

Elara traced the familiar patterns on the worn leather pouch.

Inside, dried herbs from the Montana mountains, her grandmother' s carving tools, a single eagle feather.

These were her life, her connection to the spirits, to healing.

The wind outside her small cabin whispered through the pines, a comforting sound.

Then, the crackle of the satellite phone Julian insisted she keep.

She rarely used it.

"Elara?" Julian' s voice, tight, strained. Not the calm Senator' s voice the nation knew. This was the voice of the boy who had held her hand when their parents died.

"Julian. What is it?"

"It's Vicky. She's sick. Very sick."

Vicky. Julian' s wife. A woman Elara had met only twice, a whirlwind of expensive perfume and brittle smiles.

"The doctors here... they can't find anything. They don't know what to do."

A pause. Elara could hear the unspoken fear.

"I need you, Elara. I need your help. It's... it's her last hope."

Her healing was for her people, for the balance of nature. Washington D.C. was a world away, a place of concrete and noise.

But this was Julian. Her brother.

"I will come," she said.

The government jet was an alien thing.

Julian met her himself at a private airfield. His face was etched with worry, lines deeper than she remembered.

He hugged her, a fierce, protective embrace.

"Thank you, Elara. Thank you."

He drove her to a building she didn't recognize, old stone, imposing.

"This is the Heritage Wing," Julian said, his voice softer now, a hint of pride. "It's a private suite, historically significant. I had it prepared for you. It' s quiet here. You can work."

He led her inside. The rooms were spacious, filled with antique furniture, but Julian had ensured a corner was cleared, a simple mat placed on the floor.

"I know it's not home, but I hope it's... acceptable."

"It will do, Julian."

He looked at her, his eyes full of a desperate hope she found unsettling.

"I have a gala tonight. A fundraiser Vicky was supposed to co-host. I have to go. But I'll be back to check on you before."

He touched her arm. "Rest. Lena will be here soon with your supplies from the tribe."

Lena, her bright young apprentice, was following on a commercial flight with the more delicate items.

Julian left. Elara stood in the silence of the grand room, feeling the weight of this city, the sickness it held. She needed to prepare, to center herself before facing whatever darkness afflicted Victoria Vance.

Hours later, before Lena arrived, before Julian returned, the door to the Heritage Wing burst open.

Victoria Sterling Vance stood there, her face a mask of fury.

Behind her, two large men, Big Tony and Ace, muscles bulging under tight suits. A gaggle of women, faces sharp with malice, flanked her.

Vicky' s eyes, wild and bloodshot, scanned the room, then fixed on Elara.

"So, this is the special guest," Vicky spat, her voice dripping venom. "He's been setting this place up for weeks, Julian has. Never let me in. For you."

Her eyes raked over Elara, taking in her simple dress, her unadorned face, the youthfulness that belied her nearly forty years.

Elara saw the raw jealousy, the insecurity Vicky tried to hide under layers of aggression.

"You must be Victoria," Elara said, her voice calm. "I am Elara. Julian's sister. He asked me to come. To help you."