Chapter 159: Magic Should Not Be So Inconvenient
Regulus hadn't noticed any of it.
Three days in, he'd slept fewer than six hours total, but the imprint in his consciousness grew sharper with each passing hour.
The Mandrake's decomposition tendency was no longer an abstract magical property. It was becoming concrete. Tangible. Something he could call upon.
Before dawn on the fourth day, Regulus stepped out of the greenhouse.
Sea wind hit him full in the chest, rushing down his collar. He followed the stone path toward the east side of the plantation, where a gnome burrow nestled against the base of the wall.
He crouched, reached into the hole. His fingertips met warm, rough skin, still squirming.
He pulled one out.
The gnome thrashed in his grip, stubby legs kicking wildly at the air, producing a grating noise somewhere between a shriek and a cough.
Regulus held it by the scruff of the neck, but unlike a cat, it didn't go limp.