“Bree, if you’re hearing this a second time, then you already know what I’m talking about. The subtle, persistent abilities, like the one you just used with my bracelet: enhanced sight that lets you see things that other people can’t. A heightened sense of smell, touch, hearing, even taste, when it comes to the root in our world. Certain enchantments that work on other people won’t work very well on you, if at all. These passive abilities allow us to detect an encounter with root—or magic, or aether, or whatever another practitioner may call it—and avoid it, if you choose to. And there’s nothing wrong with that, Bree, nothing at all, because the most important thing you can do in this world, the most necessary thing, is to survive it. You can’t do anything for anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself first. Do you understand me?”

Small me has gone still, but I nod.

“Good. Now, I think of these abilities like fight or flight. This first group allows you to flee if you need to, but if you choose to stand your ground, if you choose to fight… well, our gift will help with that, too. But before I talk about that, I want to talk about the cost of these abilities. The reason we don’t tell other Rootcrafters what we can do is because this power was done through Bloodcraft—where power was taken forever, not borrowed. Someone, somewhere in our bloodline, bound all this power to our bodies, Bree, and I don’t know who or how. Your grandmother didn’t know either. As best we can tell, the last of us who knew where these powers came from died in childbirth, so she couldn’t pass it on to her daughter, which brings me to my next point.…

“The reason they call Bloodcraft a curse is because the universe will come calling for its payment in one way or another. And for our family, that cost is that the power can only live in one daughter at a time. Maybe it’s because all that power burns us out, I don’t know, but none of us get very long with our mothers. Each mother’s final act is to pass these abilities on to her daughter. Which is how I know that if you’re hearing this now, it’s because you have it. And if you have it, I am gone. I know you’re thinking it, but it’s not your fault I left you, just like it wasn’t my fault that my mother left me. I know you have those feelings now, but don’t let them sour inside you. Let the pain be a part of you, but know that it’s not all you are. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

A sob from a small chest. Mine.