The spring we went to wasn’t marked on any map. It burbled up from a crack in the limestone in a hollow where the city’s streetlights couldn’t reach, the kind of place teenagers probably used for dares, skinny dipping, and cheap beer. Tonight, though, it wasn’t teenagers waiting.

  It was Euryale.

  She sat on a smooth boulder like it had been carved for her, long legs crossed neatly, her back straight. The mirrored sunglasses — yes, at night — caught the glow of our headlights before Elly killed the engine. Her blonde hair spilled down her shoulders in lazy waves, pale as ivory, each strand catching the moonlight. She wasn’t trying to blend in. She never did. Eury looked like a goddess sculpted in marble who’d just gotten bored with eternity and wandered down to our level.

  And me? I stumbled out of Elly’s hatchback clutching a bruised and soaking sapling like it was a sack of groceries. This time I was wearing some gardening gloves, having learned my lesson. My hoodie sleeve was stiff with dried blood, my sneakers still streaked with dirt from the garden, and somehow none of that had washed off when we’d gone chest deep in the reservoir to rescue this dumb tree.

  Even on a good day, I’d have felt frumpy. This evening, there was nothing like standing next to a myth incarnate to remind you that you’re basically a sentient Hot Pocket.

  “Dan.” Her voice was cool, clipped, like the name itself was a reprimand. She didn’t look at me. Her gaze was fixed squarely on the sapling cradled in my well-covered arms. “So, that’s it…”

  Elly hopped out on the driver’s side, brushing soil from her jacket. “You don’t sound thrilled.”

  Eury’s lips thinned. “It shouldn’t exist here. There is much of my kind’s past in these things.” She rose, smooth and deliberate, like she didn’t have joints so much as hinges engineered for intimidation. When she turned her head, the mirrored lenses caught both of us, reflecting twin scraps of moonlight.

  I shifted the tree. Its silver-green bark gleamed faintly, and the clusters of translucent fruits glowed just enough to make me look radioactive. “So, uh. Where do we put this thing? My apartment balcony’s full.”

  Eury extended a hand toward the spring. The water bubbled, dark and endless in the low light. “There.”

  I frowned. “That’s just… water. What’s special about this spring? We nearly killed it by tossing it in the reservoir…”

  Eury tilted her head. “Blushfruit trees reach their true maturity after being bathed in stone water and planted in. You’ll see. Now look away.”

  Her tone left no room for argument. Elly obeyed instantly, turning her back. I hesitated.

  “Things are about to get Gorgony.” Elly whispered to me, turning away.

  “Why?” I asked Eury.

  “Because what I’m about to do isn’t meant for mortal eyes.”

  I snorted. “I’m barely mortal. Technicality, really.”

  “Less than mortal maybe?” Elly suggested, still turned away from the spring.

  Her mirrored lenses turned directly on me. Even without seeing her eyes, I felt pinned. “Look away.”

  I should have. I meant to. But curiosity got its hooks in me, like it always does.

  Eury took off her glasses.

  I’d seen her eyes before, but never like this before. This wasn’t her literally stopping traffic with her gorgeous looks. This was something deeper, more primal. Her eyes weren’t just gold. They were bronze and copper whirlpools threaded with veins of silver, shifting as if alive.

  The moment her gaze hit the spring, the water convulsed. It glowed, not bright but searing, every ripple calcifying into mineral crust. A shell spread across the surface like ice, hard and brittle, laced with veins of white stone. Steam hissed upward, glowing faintly as it cooled.

  I peeked, of course, because I’m that kind of idiot. It was just a glance. And the world stabbed me back.

  My vision went white, then static. My eyes burned like I’d stared into a welder’s torch. Pain lanced through my skull, and my knees buckled. I slapped a hand against the boulder, gasping.

  “Daniel!” Elly’s voice, sharp, panicked. I could hear her but not see her.

  Eury’s was sharper. “You idiot.”

  She slid the glasses back on, cutting the effect instantly. My vision returned in blotches, colors too bright, edges smeared. My breath came ragged, chest tight.

  “That—” I wheezed. “That was—”

  “You could have killed yourself.” Her voice was venom in velvet. “Or worse. Locked yourself inside your body, your mind awake while your flesh sat stone-still forever.”

  I blinked, still seeing afterimages of her gaze. “Like… magical locked-in syndrome?”

  “Exactly.” Her jaw tightened. “You treat this like a game. It is not.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “But I’m a null.”

  “Null, not invincible.” Eury scoffed. “You can shrug off some magical effects, but this was old. This was about as close as I can come to true petrification, like the medusas of ages past.”

  I opened my mouth, but Elly beat me to it. “She’s right, Daniel, and this was probably what the warning about not looking down meant. Stupid.”

  I turned, startled. Elly’s usual cheer and pep was gone. Her short hair framed her face, sharp as glass, but her expression was serious, almost scared. “We can’t afford you screwing around. You think we’re just being harsh, but if you’d frozen up here, I couldn’t carry both you and the tree out before something else showed up.”

  “I’d choose the tree.” Eury declared definitively, hands on her hips.

  I swallowed, throat tight. I hadn’t expected her to side against me. That stung worse than the burning in my eyes.

  “I just—” I started.

  “Don’t,” Elly snapped. “Don’t joke. Just… don’t.”

  Silence pressed down like a weight. The only sound was the faint hiss of steam rising from the spring’s new crust.

  Finally, Eury moved. “Put it in. Carefully.” She pulled gloves from her coat and tugged them tight over her pale hands. “And this time, listen.”

  Together, we lowered the sapling toward the surface. The roots writhed, reaching hungrily, and when they touched the mineral crust, the water split open like an egg. Mineral sheen dissolved to let it drink. A glow pulsed up the trunk, through the silver bark, until the blossoms shivered and opened to reveal more of the shimmering fruits. Only now, they glowed more brightly, vividly.

  Eury pulled her gloves off, dropping them aside. “Done.”

  I leaned back, wiping my eyes. “So… what is this thing? Why is Jade so eager for her own designer tree?”

  Eury hesitated at the mention of Jade, as if she’d just been hooked into something more than she’d bargained for. That alone made my stomach knot.

  Elly crossed her arms. “Go on. Spill. She’s already holding the leash, might as well know what’s at the end.”

  Eury’s mirrored gaze turned to me. “The fruit is used in potions. Aphrodisiacs, mostly. Potent ones. Not the playful kind. The kind that breaks barriers.”

  “Break barriers?” I echoed.

  Her lips thinned. “It lowers defenses and excites the senses. It leaves the subject vulnerable to suggestion. Or consumption. It allowed our kind ages ago to bring in mates. Their scent can drive men wild with lust, while allowing them to temporarily resist the effects of our petrification. Taken by one of us, it also allows us to hold back our innate abilities to turn men to stone.”

  “That’s convenient.” I observed.

  “A deal with the Succubi of old helped us create them.” Eury said quietly.

  With all of this talk of desire, my very own friendly succubus’ face flashed in my mind. My gut twisted. Lily.

  Elly swore under her breath. “Damn it, Jade.”

  Before I could respond, a noise rippled through the trees. A soft hum. Not mechanical, not natural either.

  We all turned.

  At the edge of the clearing stood a silhouette. Too tall, too thin. Its chest cavity yawned open like the flip-lid of an old post office box. A faint slip of paper fluttered inside before vanishing into nothing.

  A Collector.

  My blood went cold.

  It stepped forward, deliberate, the air around it vibrated with a low, nauseating hum. It raised an arm, and a strip of paper slid from its wrist like a sticker ready to slap onto the sapling.

  “No.” Eury’s voice was iron. She tore her glasses off again, eyes blazing.

  Her gaze hit its arm, and stone spread instantly across the limb, calcifying joints into statuesque rock. The Collector jerked but didn’t stop. Perhaps she’d used up most of her mojo on the spring, or maybe the thing was just more durable than inanimate water.

  Elly was already flinging wards, sigils sparking across the air like neon graffiti. Each one slowed the thing, made it stutter-step, but it kept rebooting, its motions shuddering forward again and again.

  The hum spiked. My teeth rattled.

  I stumbled forward, my null field sparking instinctively. The air crackled around me, and the Collector faltered, its open chest cavity flickering like static.

  “Daniel!” Elly barked. “Stay back!”

  But it was too close.

  The Collector swung its stony arm, paper flaring like it meant to brand and claim the sapling. I flinched, threw myself between, and the slip brushed against my sleeve. Sparks flew — literal sparks, my null ripping the magic out mid-contact. The paper crumbled into ash, along with my favorite hoodie.

  The Collector staggered, chest cavity stuttering open-shut, open-shut. Then, as abruptly as it had appeared, it stepped backward into nothing. Gone.

  Silence swallowed the clearing. Only the spring bubbled, the sapling’s blossoms trembling.

  I realized I was shaking and not from the cold.

  Eury replaced her glasses slowly. “That,” she said, voice low, “was not Jade’s doing.”

  Elly muttered something sharp in fae tongue, pacing. “It’s not the first time we’ve seen these ‘Collectors.’ They’re watching us at every step. Cataloging. And trying to mark things now with these papers.”

  “The disappearances in our community may not be coincidental.” Eury grimaced.

  I rubbed my stinging eyes; the afterimage of the thing was burned into my skull. “So, what now?”

  Eury glanced at the tree. Then at me. Her lips curved — not a smile, not really. More like resignation. “Now,” she said softly, “we stop pretending this is just Jade’s game. Someone else is playing. And they’ve already seen you.”

  “This is why she wanted us all involved, Daniel.” Elly confirmed. “This is our new foe, I think. Someone has stepped into the Eidolich’s shoes.”