The carriage rattled and shook as it hurried over the uneven road. A particularly large object or hole caused it to tilt heavily to one side. Felitïa reached out to help stabilise Mikranasta, who pulled away.

“Are you all right?” Anita asked.

“I will be fine,” Mikranasta said.

“I apologise for the bumpy ride,” Anita said.

“Again, I will be fine,” Mikranasta said.

“We’ll be there soon,” Anita continued.

Although the carriage was designed to seat four people comfortably, the designer had not considered Isyar in that calculation. Mikranasta was forced to stand—squat, rather—by the cabin door, unable to sit because of her wings.

Felitïa sat close to Mikranasta, with Sinitïa beside her and Anita across from them. It had been a bumpy ride, partly because they were in a bit of a hurry, and partly because Quorge’s roads were just not well cleared in the winter.

They were running a little late because Mikranasta and, particularly, Hedromornasta had objected to wearing the clothes Anita had prepared for them. Except for the colour, they were almost perfect copies of the thin gowns the Isyar usually wore, and Jorvan and Feviona had had no objection, but Mikranasta and Hedromornasta had objected. It hadn’t really bothered Felitïa, especially since most of them wouldn’t even be going inside the cathedral, but Anita had been rather insistent. Felitïa told Anita to let it go, but at the last moment, Mikranasta suddenly changed her mind and agreed, telling Hedromornasta in no uncertain terms he had no choice. They then had to wait for them both to change and for Hedromornasta to fly ahead to the cathedral.

Sinitïa muttered something.

“What was that?” Felitïa asked.

Sinitïa looked at her in surprise, like she hadn’t realised Felitïa was even there. “Huh? Oh, I’m just practising my speech. Sorry.”

“No problem.” Felitïa had been asked to give a speech at the memorial as well, which she’d wanted to turn down, but she’d accepted anyway just to be polite. Unfortunately, she still had no idea what she was going to say. Was there anything good she could say about her mother? Nothing she’d ever experienced, though Zandrue claimed her mother had started being a little more friendly and cordial towards the end.

That might be something to talk about if she’d bothered to ask Zandrue for more details. But Zandrue hadn’t been available. Despite her promise, Zandrue had fallen back into her despair, refusing to talk to people and not continuing her investigations. She also refused to come to the memorial. Well, refused wasn’t exactly the right word. Zandrue hadn’t actually said anything about the memorial; she simply wouldn’t get dressed for it, and when servants came to help, she took off somewhere.

Felitïa wasn’t surprised. Whatever was wrong with Zandrue was serious. Felitïa had no doubt Zandrue had meant it when she’d made the promise. She just didn’t have the strength to keep it.

Thinking about that made Felitïa choose not to reach out to help Mikranasta when the carriage lurched again. Not that Mikranasta wanted help, but Felitïa wouldn’t have given it if she did. The talk with Mikranasta had not gone well.

“Maybe in two weeks,” Mikranasta had said.

“Two weeks? Zandrue needs help now.”

“I will examine her.”

“She refuses to let you.”

“Then that is her problem, not mine or yours. You are not ready.”

“But I—”

“Just because you are learning to keep others out does not mean you can keep yourself in. The answer is no, and I will not reconsider for at least two weeks. Do not ask again before then.”

Not for the first time, Felitïa had considered—and was considering again now—letting Mikranasta enact her threat and leave. Maybe what was needed was to be thrown into the thick of things where she was forced to figure things out herself. That’s what she’d been doing her whole life. Why change now?

Because there was an actual danger of her hurting other people.

Felitïa sighed. What the hell was she supposed to do? She couldn’t make Zandrue wait another two weeks.

Sinitïa placed a hand on Felitïa’s leg. “I miss them too.”

“Oh, I was…” I wasn’t thinking about them, she almost said. Instead, she just smiled at Sinitïa. “Thanks.”

The carriage finally came to a stop and, a moment later, a servant opened the door. Mikranasta practically stumbled out, but quickly regained her composure. Anita was next. Then, Felitïa offered Sinitïa her hand, and they both exited the carriage together.

Wet snow fell on them, so they moved quickly for the shelter of the cathedral entrance, while servants raised umbrellas over them.

Sinitïa made a soft screech as they hurried along. When they reached cover, she said, “I hope my hair’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” Felitïa said.

Sinitïa’s hair was tied up in a tapered bun. There was nothing particularly fancy about it, as it would soon be covered by a chaperon. Even if the sleet ruined it, no one would know.

Felitïa’s own hair was tied up similarly. Indeed, both she and Sinitïa were dressed almost identically in vibrant violet gowns with wide skirts and bodices lower than Felitïa was entirely comfortable with. But the gowns had been made to Anita’s specifications, so Felitïa had gone along with it. Anita was her host after all. The gowns were embroidered with paler purple floral patterns, and the ends of the skirts and sleeves were frilled.

Completing the ensemble were tall magenta chaperons—too tall to have worn in the carriage—that two handmaids waiting just inside the cathedral doors held. Once Felitïa and Sinitïa were inside, the handmaids would place the chaperons on their heads and tie them in place.

To the left of the doors stood Feviona—in a pale purple version of the uniform she usually wore—Jorvan, and Hedromornasta. Sinitïa approached Feviona and put her arms around the Isyar’s neck, while Feviona wrapped her wings around Sinitïa. The two of them stood there for several moments. It was hard to tell exactly what they were doing because Feviona’s wings obscured it. Surely they weren’t kissing? Felitïa strained to look around. No, just touching foreheads.

Eventually, Feviona unwrapped her wings and Sinitïa stepped back. She then approached Jorvan and the two of them did the same. Hedromornasta stepped to the side, a disgusted look on his face.

When Sinitïa and Jorvan separated, Felitïa smiled at him and Feviona. “Thank you for coming.”

“We would not miss it,” Jorvan said, while Sinitïa signed Felitïa’s words for Feviona. “We will remain here for the entire memorial.” He glanced at Hedromornasta. “I will ensure Hedromornasta does not leave.”

“Unnecessary,” Mikranasta said. “He will remain.”

“Thank you as well,” Felitïa said to Mikranasta. “Are you sure you’re all right coming in?”

“There is no other choice.”

Felitïa wasn’t entirely convinced that was true. She was certain Mikranasta was powerful enough to maintain the shield from the doors. However, she accepted that it would be harder and probably more draining. “As you wish. Thank you again.”

Sinitïa took Felitïa’s hand and squeezed it. Together, they entered the cathedral. The two handmaids came straight up to them and placed their chaperons on their heads.

“You look beautiful,” Felitïa said. “A lot like Mother.” She wasn’t sure that was strictly true, or even if Sinitïa would see it as a compliment, but it was the only thing she could think of to say. Really, the chaperon was the main point of similarity. Chaperons were not really in style these days—so Anita had said; Felitïa was not really an expert on style—but their mother had frequently worn them, so wearing one now was appropriate in memory of her.

Sinitïa smiled sadly. “Thanks. You look really beautiful too.”

“Ready?” Anita said.

Felitïa gave Sinitïa’s hand a squeeze and nodded.

Nin-Akna walked up beside Anita. Dressed in a replica of her original Youth Guard uniform and armour—apparently it wasn’t a perfect replica as they had had to substitute some of the materials, but it was close enough—and carrying a long spear decorated with purple feathers, she smiled at Felitïa and Sinitïa. She then banged the end of the spear on the floor. “Positions!”

Servants opened the doors to the nave and several soldiers marched around Felitïa, Sinitïa, and Anita into the nave. Anita and Nin-Akna followed them. Then a few more soldiers went before Felitïa and Sinitïa walked in, hand-in-hand. Behind them, two more soldiers followed.

The church was not particularly full, though it certainly wasn’t empty. Most people were congregated towards the front of the nave, but a few people sat farther back. Amongst those at the back, Felitïa spotted Etiënne and Miana, two of the very few non-Foliths present.

Felitïa had wanted to open the memorial up to anyone who wanted to attend, but Father Bandren had insisted that the church could never hold that many and thus the memorial would have to be limited to only nobles and their servants, and people personally invited by a noble, such as Felitïa or Sinitïa. And so it was almost entirely Foliths in here, since those servants they were allowed to bring mostly had to wait outside.

They proceeded slowly up the aisle of the nave to music playing from the pipe organ. As they went, the soldiers periodically stopped and took up honour guard positions along the aisle. At the front of the nave, at the bottom of the steps to the chancel were several small shrines. The central one, right at the end of the aisle, contained a portrait of King Wavon and Queen Annai. They looked like Felitïa remembered them as a child—her father at any rate. Her childhood memories of her mother were not very distinct—not of her mother’s appearance anyway.

The shrines to either side of the central one each contained a charcoal portrait of one of Felitïa’s siblings: Garet to the right, Pastrin to his right, and Thilin at the far right. To the left was Gabriella and then Annai. Sinitïa had drawn the charcoal portraits. She had wanted to paint them all, including their mother and father, but there simply hadn’t been time. So they had gone with the older painting Anita’s family happened to have and Sinitïa had compromised with drawings of the princes and princesses.

When they reached the front, Anita and Nin-Akna turned into the front row of pews, Anita briefly touching hands with her mother, Siba, in the second row. On the left side, Meleng stood at the edge of the front row, his eyes glued on Sinitïa.

Felitïa and Sinitïa followed Anita, with Sinitïa at the edge of the aisle, close enough to touch hands with Meleng, which Felitïa was pretty certain she saw them do.

Felitïa smiled. She was happy for both of them. It was a relationship she hadn’t expected, but the two of them seemed thoroughly in love, and in times like these, everyone needed something like that in their life. Indeed, she felt a slight tinge of jealousy that she didn’t have someone like that. Her thoughts went briefly to Maneshka, but Maneshka was so far away. Even if they ever saw each other again, could they ever have a real, lasting relationship?

As the organ music stopped, Bandren motioned for people to sit and almost everyone did. Stools had been provided for Mikranasta, but she remained standing. Nin-Akna also remained standing in her role as Anita’s honour guard.

The service was...fine? At least half an hour had to have passed when Felitïa realised she couldn’t remember much of what had happened. Bandren had said a lot, presumably about the Royal Family, but she hadn’t been paying much attention. She had amused herself instead, by surreptitiously watching Sinitïa and Meleng exchanging glances they presumably thought no one else noticed.

She tried to focus on the matter at hand. This was supposed to be a time of mourning, not amusement at young love. But the truth was, she still hadn’t really come to terms with her own feelings about it all.

She had finally gotten together with Sinitïa last night, and the two of them had talked and commiserated with each other, but Sinitïa had done most of the mourning. Felitïa had shed a few tears, but mostly in sympathy with Sinitïa.

It was, nonetheless, an enlightening time together. Sinitïa had grown so much in the time since Scovese—though that growth had undoubtedly started on Scovese. She was not the naïve girl she had once been, and the speech she was soon to give made that clear. Felitïa had helped her a little with the speech, but Sinitïa had already prepared most of it with help from Meleng and Etiënne.

At long last, Bandren called on Sinitïa to approach and say a few words about her family.

Sinitïa rose and made her way slowly between the portraits of their parents and Garet, up the steps to the chancel, and over to the podium. She looked out over the nave, her gaze moving from one side to the other, but ultimately landing on Meleng. She cleared her throat and began to speak.

“I’m supposed to talk to you about how much I loved my family. And I did. A lot. Daddy—I mean, Father—was always so nice. I used to rest my head in his lap and talk to him about all sorts of things. I used to ask questions. Lots of questions. I like asking questions because it helps me learn things. I don’t think he understood that because he usually didn’t answer them. Instead, he talked to me about other things he said I would find more interesting. But he at least listened to the questions. Then there was Mother. Mommy loved me in her own way, and like I said, I loved her too. But I don’t want to pretend she was perfect. Neither was Daddy or my brothers and sisters. I loved them, but they weren’t perfect, and my friend Etiënne says it’s important to acknowledge the flaws of even the people you love. My mother could be really mean to you if you weren’t a Folith, or if you were my sister Felitïa. Sorry, Felitïa.”

“It’s all right,” Felitïa said. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Sinitïa said, “but I wanted to say it anyway. You were the one who first taught me to stand up to her. Without you and my friend Etiënne and Jorvanultumn and Fevionawishtensen, and especially my beloved Melly—I mean Meleng—I wouldn’t be who I am today. Thank you. But to turn this back to my family, I wanted to talk a little about Thilin. He was the closest to me in age and we used to…” She raised her head slightly, looking towards the back of the church. “Are you all right? Do you need help?”

That was definitely not part of her speech. Felitïa turned in the pew, but there were too many people right behind her to see what Sinitïa was reacting too. Gasps spread throughout the church as Felitïa slid to the edge of the pew to look down the aisle.

A woman stood by the nave doors. She was pale of skin and bald—and completely naked.

Several guards moved towards her, but they stopped.

“Do you need help?” Sinitïa repeated. Felitïa glanced back to see that Sinitïa was holding up her hand to hold the guards back.

Crumble.

Oh gods, no.

Sinitïa screamed, and there was a loud crash.

“Sini!” Meleng yelled, and people throughout the church screamed and began to scramble out of the pews.

Felitïa turned back around.

Sinitïa was gone. There was only a hole in the floor where she and the podium had previously been. Bandren stood, gaping, just to the side of the hole. Meleng ran up to him.

Nin-Akna leapt over the pew, brushing past Felitïa and yelling to two nearby guards, “Get your Lady and her Highness to safety!” She ran down the aisle, motioning to other guards to follow her.

Crumble.

A piece of the ceiling crashed down, crushing two guards in front of Nin-Akna.

Crumble.

More crashes, and dust from falling stone and masonry billowed about the nave. Feviona flew into the nave and straight down at the naked woman, colliding directly into her and knocking her over.

Crumble.

That word. The second of the four words in the messages from Arnor City. The first, burn, had been used by the fire creature Meleng and Feviona had encountered. Now this one.

In 2333, the demons will come for the Will-Breaker.

One of the foretellings of Eleuia that Felitïa had been expecting for a while now. She didn’t know for certain this person and the fire creature from before were the demons, but it seemed likely. What else could they be?

Gods, she hated how she just accepted now that these things had been foretold.

But that was beside the point. The woman...creature—whatever it was—was here now, and it needed to be stopped.

Felitïa stood up and turned in the woman’s direction.

A hand grabbed her shoulder. “No,” Mikranasta said.

“I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

“There is nothing you can do. I have already tried. That creature has no mind. I cannot affect it. Neither can Hedromornasta. And neither can you.”

“It’s killing people.”

“Let Jorvanultumn and Fevionawishtensen deal with it. We must leave.”

Felitïa looked about. Anita was already gone. Had she made it out, or was she just somewhere amidst the numerous people still trying to escape?

Crumble.

“Look out!” Mikranasta yelled.

The warning should have been too late. Dust and small bits of stone fell over Felitïa, and she looked up. Hanging in the air mere inches above her head was a massive piece of buttress. After a moment, it flew off across the nave in the direction of the naked woman. Felitïa couldn’t tell where Jorvan was, but there was no one else who could have saved her like that.

“Will-Breaker,” Mikranasta said, “we must leave now!”

Should she leave? How would the creature respond if it was after her? It might…

Sinitïa!

She had to help Sinitïa.

Without waiting for Mikranasta’s approval, Felitïa ran up the stairs to the chancel.

Father Bandren was gone, but Meleng was kneeling by the hole.

Coughing, Felitïa ran over to him. “How is she?”

Meleng looked up briefly. “Not good. She’s not moving.”

Felitïa knelt beside him and peered into the hole. Sinitïa lay on the floor of the basement below, maybe fifteen feet down. Her chaperon had fallen off and blood trickled from a cut on her forehead. She was covered in dust and bits of rubble, but luckily most of the debris from the collapse was below her, not on top of her. “We can get her out of there.”

Mikranasta came up behind them. “We need to get out of here. It’s not safe, Will-Breaker.”

“Not without Sinitïa,” Meleng said.

“Then be quick about it.”

Meleng jumped to his feet and rounded on her. “If you’re so worried about the Will-Breaker’s safety, why don’t you do something about that creature? Why do you never help us? You’re the most powerful person here!”

Mikranasta only stared back at him.

Felitïa rose to her feet and put a hand on his shoulder. “The creature has no mind, Meleng. There’s nothing she can do.”

“I apologise for my insensitive words,” Mikranasta said. “Retrieve your fomase, but then we must go.”

Meleng nodded through clenched teeth and wiped his eyes. “Fine.” He turned back to the hole. “Do you know a way down there?”

“I’ve never actually been in here before,” Felitïa said.

“I’ll jump down.” Meleng began to fiddle with the clasp of his deep maroon cloak.

“Are you sure? It’s a long drop. We could find another way down, or maybe one of the Isyar…” Felitïa cut herself off. No, that wouldn’t work. The hole was about three feet at its widest—too narrow for Isyar wings.

“No, I’ll go down. I’ll just...damn it!” He was apparently having a hard time with the clasp, which was still not undone.

“Let me,” Felitïa said.

Meleng let go of the clasp and nodded, tears streaming down his face.

The clasp was incredibly stiff, and Felitïa had to work at it. It was still not coming open. “What is with this thing?”

Meleng wiped his eyes. “It wasn’t sitting right, so Feviona did something to hold it in place.”

“It certainly worked.” Thankfully, the clasp finally came undone a moment later. “There.”

Meleng pulled the cloak off and haphazardly folded it into a ball, which he dropped down the hole. Then he sat at the edge, dangling his feet over the side.

Crumble. There were more crashes somewhere in the nave.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Felitïa said, leaning over and giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Then Meleng dropped himself over the edge.

He hit the floor, missing his cloak and the small amount of cushioning it would have provided, and fell forward, hands outstretched. He lay still for a moment, but then pulled himself to his feet.

“You okay?” Felitïa called down.

“Fine,” he called up, but he was limping as he made his way around to the other side of Sinitïa.

I know you care for your sister, Will-Breaker, Mikranasta said, but this is a very unwise decision. I cannot go with you.

“You can’t protect me anyway. You already said as much. You…” Then it dawned on her. If Mikranasta couldn’t go with her, then neither could the shield.

Exactly. Let the boy help her. You will only make things worse.

Felitïa peered down at Meleng, who was examining Sinitïa, probably checking her vitals and other signs of her condition. I won’t leave her. Or him. They need my help.

It is not—

What would you do if it was someone close to you, Mikranasta? What if it was Hedromornasta? Or your fomase?

Mikranasta stared blankly for a moment, then looked to the nave at the sound of another crash. Very well, but be careful. Not just of your abilities. This building may not have much time left to it.

Felitïa hugged her. Thank you. Without waiting a moment longer, she turned and jumped into the hole.

Searing pain shot up from her ankle as she landed—the same ankle she’d broken on Scovese—and she cried out. Gods, she hadn’t even thought of that. It had been so long, she’d mostly forgotten that had ever happened, with only rare aches reminding her that the ankle would always be a little weaker. Hopefully, she hadn’t broken—

Her head flooded and she fell over, maybe cried out too, but she couldn’t quite tell.

Her head was… No, not her head, but instead… No, it was her head, just not only her head?

The Room in her head was filled with emotions—fear and desperation from Meleng, as well as anger. Fear from the people above who were still alive, and there were thankfully a lot of them. Were they actually still in the cathedral? What was her range now? Not that she’d ever really known her range before.

Meleng was scolding himself for not knowing healing magic, for not being a better wizard, and a more competent person. He was also asking Felitïa if she was all right. Somehow, he was doing both at the same time. No, some of that was in his head, though she was fairly certain the asking her if she was all right was out loud.

She held up her hand to hold him off—at least, she was fairly certain she did. She was also clenching her fist, her nails digging painfully into her palm. Maybe she did one with one hand and the other with the other. Something like that?

What was with all these colours?

There were colours everywhere. Mostly periwinkle.

What?

She was quite certain she had never heard the word periwinkle in her life. How was she recognising its colour now?

But there were other colours too. Reds and browns. A bit of yellow.

But mostly periwinkle. So much periwinkle. It was almost blinding.

Sinitïa?

Yes, the colours were from Sinitïa.

Was this real?

What a strange question. Why had she asked it?

No, she hadn’t, had she?

No, that was Meleng. But not even conscious Meleng. That was deep down.

Oh gods, she was deep down in Meleng’s psyche. Sinitïa’s too.

Gods, Sinitïa was obsessed with periwinkle.

But deeper down, at the centre of the periwinkle, there was yellow and green, green and yellow, yellow-green, green-yellow. Chartreuse.

Another word Felitïa had never heard of before.

Chartreuse and periwinkle entwined at the centre.

Felitïa smiled. She got it now.

In the Room, she pulled the diamond walls into place, blocking everything from upstairs. There were six people still in the nave. The rest were watching from outside.

How did she know that?

It didn’t matter right now.

It was easy to block people out. She’d done that for years, and it was even easier now. The trick was keeping herself in her own head. It wasn’t right that she should be spying on Meleng’s paranoia that he was still trapped in the illusions made for him in Isyaria. It wasn’t even right that she be watching Sinitïa’s dreams of herself and Meleng.

She dug her fingernails deeper into her palm.

How could she stop herself?

The grey walls!

That was their purpose. She drew the grey walls to her, specifically the hole. She pulled pieces of the diamond walls and used them to patch up the hole. The periwinkle and chartreuse faded away. So did Meleng’s paranoias.

Felitïa took a deep breath and slowly released her fist. It was working.

It wasn’t perfect. The Room still had a slight periwinkle tinge to it. But it was working.

“Felitïa?” Meleng was waving his hand in front of her face.

She gave him a weak smile. How long had she made him wait? It seemed like ages, but she was fairly certain it was actually much shorter.

“Are you all right?”

“Sorry, the shield’s gone, and it took a moment to gain some semblance of control. I think I’m okay for the moment. How’s Sinitïa?”

“All right, I think.” Meleng hopped back over to Sinitïa and knelt beside her. “We’ll know for sure when she wakes up, but she’s stable and I can’t find any broken bones. She was lucky, thank the gods.”

“She’s dreaming about you.” She wasn’t sure how appropriate it was for her to tell him that, but she wanted to give him something to cheer him up a little.

“Huh?”

“Before I got my own shields up, I...saw a few things.”

Several possible dreams Sinitïa might be dreaming passed through Meleng’s head.

Damn it!

Bringing over another piece of diamond wall, Felitïa patched up the hole that had opened in her previous patch.

She grimaced. “I saw things in you, too. Even now, I keep accidentally poking in. Sorry.”

A mixture of fear and awe came from Meleng. “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”

But there was still a bit of fear there. Felitïa couldn’t blame him.

She knelt down beside Sinitïa, across from Meleng. “Is it safe to move her?”

“I think so. Just be careful not to jostle her head.”

Felitïa nodded. “I’ll take this side. You take that one. Ready?”

Carefully, Felitïa took Sinitïa’s arm and wrapped it around her neck. Then she lifted her at the shoulder. Meleng did the same on his side, also using one hand to support Sinitïa’s head. Together, they lifted Sinitïa up, first into a sitting position, and then into a standing one.

Sinitïa groaned and her eyes flickered a couple times, but didn’t fully open. Confusion emanated from her.

“Sini?” Meleng said, trying to cradle her head as it flopped forward. Felitïa did her best to help him.

“Hmm?” Sinitïa’s eyes opened a crack. “Melly?” Happiness mixed with her confusion.

Felitïa revelled a little in that happiness. It was so comforting to sense others’ emotions again.

“We’ve got you,” Meleng said. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

“We?” Sinitïa looked at Meleng, then turned her head towards Felitïa and gasped. “Oh! Hi...um...you.” The confusion emanating from her amplified.

“Yes, I’m here, too,” Felitïa said. “Can you walk?”

Sinitïa stared at Felitïa. Her confusion was turning to fear. Then panic.

“Sinitïa, are you all right?” Felitïa asked.

“I…” Sinitïa was breathing heavily. She looked back to Meleng. “I…”

Meleng ran his hand over her cheek. “It’s okay. You’ve just had a bad fall. It’s going to be okay.”

“I…” With a wail, Sinitïa yelled, “I can’t remember her name!” Her panic was rising, and Felitïa had to block some of it out. Her body was also shaking violently.

“It’s Felitïa,” Meleng said. “It’s all right.”

Sinitïa’s shaking started to calm, and her fear diminished a little, though not entirely. “Oh yeah! Why did I forget that?”

“You probably have a concussion,” Meleng said. “Don’t worry. It’ll go away, and you’ll be fine. You just have to be careful. No more falls.”

Sinitïa grinned at him. “Okay! I’ll try not to fall again. I don’t know why I fell the first time. There was a naked woman, and then… Then there wasn’t a floor. Is that why I fell? Where did the floor go? You’re pretty. I love you. I love you, too, Felitïa, but in a different way.”

“Let’s get her out of here,” Felitïa said as Sinitïa jabbered on.

They moved forward slowly, one step at a time. For the first few steps, they had to drag Sinitïa along, but then she started taking tentative steps on her own, her legs wobbling. At one point, she slipped and nearly took both of them down with her, but they held her up and she laughed. By the time they reached the door, she was mostly stable, though they continued to support her.

Luckily, the basement was not complicated, and they soon found their way to stairs heading back up. Also luckily, the stairs did not come up anywhere near the worship area, but rather at the base of Nature’s tower at the back of the building. The crashes seemed to have stopped, but Felitïa was glad to be away from there. They needed to keep Sinitïa out of danger.

The sun reflecting off the snow was nearly blinding as they exited the Cathedral through a side door near the back of the building. Felitïa blinked and stumbled.

Sinitïa laughed. “You’re supposed to be supporting me, not me you!”

But it wasn’t the light that had caused the stumble. In the Room, the patch was not holding. The pieces directly touching the grey walls were falling off...or retracting...or something. Whatever the case, gaps kept forming between the diamond pieces and the grey walls.

Oh gods. It wasn’t a problem with the diamond walls. They weren’t falling off or retracting or anything else. The hole in the grey walls was getting bigger. Every time Felitïa filled the gap, the parts of the grey walls touching the diamond started to crumble away. It was slow and hard to notice, but it was quickening in pace.

This was not good. As much as she wanted those grey walls gone permanently, now was not the time. She had so little control. She knew that now. Mikranasta had been right. The risk had been too great. She should have listened.

No. She wouldn’t let herself think that way. She’d done the right thing. Sinitïa had needed help.

“Felitïa?” Meleng said. “Are you all right?”

They hadn’t moved from the door, and both Meleng and Sinitïa were looking at her with concern. Worry emanated from both of them, though Meleng had guessed what the problem was. He was running through ideas in his head for how he might help her, including wondering if there was a way he could stop thinking completely. Then Felitïa wouldn’t be able—

Felitïa shoved more diamond pieces into the ever-growing gap. She had to stop doing this! She had to stop reading their minds!

“Go on without me,” she said, letting go of Sinitïa, and stepping back into the cathedral.

Sinitïa stumbled slightly, but held on to Meleng. “What? Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” Felitïa said. “I’ll stay here. But I can’t keep out of your heads, and once we’re out on the street, there’ll be a whole lot of other people around too. It’s more than I can handle right now.”

“I don’t understand,” Sinitïa said.

“Meleng does. He’ll explain it to you, won’t you, Meleng?”

Meleng nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Meleng’s good at explaining things,” Sinitïa said.

“Can we do anything to help you?” Meleng asked.

“Get Sinitïa to safety first. She’s top priority. Once you’ve done that, find Mikranasta or Hedromornasta. Tell them where I am and they can come get me.”

Meleng nodded. “Got it.”

Felitïa kissed Sinitïa on the forehead and backed up a bit. “I’ll see you soon.”

Sinitïa stared at her a moment as Meleng tried to turn her away. When Sinitïa refused to move, he stopped. Felitïa resisted a sudden urge to look in Sinitïa’s head to find out why she wasn’t moving. It would be so easy and so quick. There was another hole opening up in the patch…

No! She shoved another piece of diamond in the hole.

“Are you coming?” Meleng said.

Sinitïa continued to look at Felitïa. “Aren’t you going to give Meleng a kiss too?”

“Oh.” Felitïa looked at Meleng. “Meleng’s feeling a lot of embarrassment at the suggestion, so not this time.”

Sinitïa turned to Meleng. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. She’s your friend!”

“I...well…” Meleng stuttered.

“Oh, all right.” Felitïa leaned forward and gave Meleng a quick kiss on the forehead as even more embarrassment flooded from him. However, there was also gratefulness that she’d gone ahead and done it.

“See?” Sinitïa said. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Let’s just get going,” Meleng said. “Then we can get help back to Felitïa faster.”

Felitïa only watched them go long enough to be sure they were both clear of the doorway. Then she shut the door. She had no idea if that would help block her from invading their privacy, but it couldn’t harm.

Then she returned to Nature’s tower, sat at the base of the stairs, and quickly dismantled the patch over the hole. It was a risk if someone came into her range, but hopefully in the tower, she was far enough away that that was unlikely. She had to stop the grey walls disintegrating for now. She couldn’t let them go away completely until she had better control over her powers.

The Room was back to its old self now—apart from the diamond walls in place of the black ones. The line-up and voices were back, and the Staff floated in its usual location.

She decided to take a quick look at the conditions of everyone in the queue, starting at the back with Miana. They had been near the back of the nave with Etiënne when the creature had attacked, a location where they might have easily been amongst the creature’s first victims. But Miana looked fine. No injuries. No indication of anything out of the ordinary. It was the same with Etiënne.

That was a relief.

Nin-Akna also looked fine, and she had rushed straight into the battle. Jorvan, too, was fine.

Had they successfully defeated the creature?

The crashes had stopped so presumably the battle was over. But was that because they had stopped it or driven it off, or because they had had to retreat?

Quilla looked sad. So sad.

Gods, Felitïa wished she could do something to help Quilla. And Rudiger and Borisin. That damn Pearl!

She looked up at the Staff, and focused on the serpent’s eyes. Which one was the Pearl she had? Was there a difference?

Felitïa.

There had been times in the past when the voices calling her name would drive her up the wall, but right now, they were ridiculously comforting. It meant, at least for now, life had returned to some semblance of normal.

Felitïa.

Good to hear from you, she called back.

Felitïa, you must listen to me.

I know. I’m ready any time you have something new to say.

I only have a moment, so listen carefully,

Wait, what?

Beware Kranian. He is coming for you. Seek out Lisanacora. She can help you.

The voices were responding? They were actually responding?

Who is Lisanacora? she called out. Where can I find her?

Felitïa.

Can you tell me? Please!

Felitïa.

Damn. They had said they didn’t have much time, but she had hoped for a little more than that.

So, what could she do? Kranian and Lisanacora. The latter sounded like an Isyar name. That could make things easy if this Lisanacora was somewhere close by, but...

The Room shifted positions, dizzying Felitïa, and bringing the queue up in front of her again.

Zandrue, Rudiger, Borisin, Meleng, Corvinian.

At the back of the line, the mists were parting and a shape coming into view.

Jorvanultumn, Quilla, Kindanog, Nin-Akna, Etiënne.

Despite the parting mist or blurriness or whatever it was, the new figure was still hard to work out. There were wings though. An Isyar presumably. Hopefully not a Volg!

Miana.

An Isyar. Definitely an Isyar. Yet… The figure was transparent. Felitïa could see right through her. And…

Lisanacora.

Felitïa clutched her head in her hands—both metaphorically in the Room and for real on the stairs. Looking at this person was making her dizzy, but she couldn’t look away. Every time she did, the Room turned with her, keeping Lisanacora right in front of her.

But what she saw didn’t make sense.

She could handle the Isyar’s transparency, even though that made no sense. Her life frequently made no sense. But the Isyar was old. And young. A child. Stooped over from extreme age. A teenager. Young adult and pregnant. Young adult and not pregnant. Mature adult and pregnant again. But the image wasn’t shifting in appearance. The Isyar was somehow all of these things and more at once.

With great effort, she finally wrenched her vision away from the Isyar, and the dizziness subsided. She took a quick glance back, but from a distance this time. The Isyar was still transparent and every age from birth to death at the same time. But the sight wasn’t quite so nauseating now. Even so, she decided it was best not to look too much—at least not until she understood what it meant.

If she ever did.

It seemed like any time she got the answer to a question, five more appeared, so was it even worth learning any answers at all?

So many people dead. Even if it appeared her friends were alive, others had died. People who didn’t deserve it. She couldn’t even be sure of all her friends, only the ones who happened to be in the fucking line-up that she still had no idea of its purpose. What about Anita? Siba? Feviona? Did she get to know their conditions?

And so many others had died. Her parents. Garet. Nin-Xoco. Stavan Orcan. So many more, most of whom she didn’t even know the names of.

Was any of it worth it?

She was the Will-Breaker, but she had no idea what she was doing. She barely had any idea what it even meant to be the Will-Breaker. She hated the implications of the name.

Except if she had done nothing, they probably would have still died. Maybe more would have.

Yes, she had to believe that.

She had to believe she’d saved lives. If she hadn’t, then…

No, that wasn’t worth contemplating.

She had to go on.

She would.

Somehow.

She lowered her head and resisted bursting into tears.

Instead, she would meditate until Mikranasta or Hedromornasta arrived.

And then it was time to find and destroy these demons once and for all.