Nefretiri
"That's the recipe?" Ivan stared at the paper I'd just pushed toward him, frowning at it. "How many pages is that?"
"Twenty-six," Rubbing my fingers, I stare at the stack of papers. "How many people would give everything to have it?"
It was true. In those pages were the things so many wanted and couldn't have. Sure, there had to be counterfeits. There always were when it came to something of value, but those versions didn't work the same way. They killed, but that's where their potential ended. That's what made this so different. Chaos became real because it was made of impossible and unthinkable. A toxin so deadly yet could save lives, protect, and even create inconceivable magic. My problem was my lack of memories and my age.
I got the feeling that even if I had all my memories, I still wouldn't be able to understand how the Arcana created the version of Black Coral inside me that easily.
