Curse of the Ravenstone: Ravenstone, #2

By M.S. Verish

Their mission was at an end.

Suffering the price of their failure, the companions are divided. Undeterred in her quest for redemption, Kariayla, followed by Jinx and Ruby, pursues the deadly stone in a seemingly futile mission. Hawkwing and Arcturus seek the infamous White Demon, who has managed to escape the Priagent's grip.

Priagent Rashir Diemh has never been closer to his goal. Possessing both the Ravenstone and the powerful cantalere known as Whitestar, a second Cataclysm is imminent. Yet even he is driven by another—a darker force that has yet to reveal itself.

The Ravenstone's ominous Shadow obscures the fate of Secramore, and unless the threat is vanquished, none will be spared the curse of its darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Night Apple Creations
• Release date: Feb 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524272890

M.S. Verish

M.S. Verish, better known as Matthew and Stefanie Verish, are co-authors as well as husband and wife. They knew they were destined for marriage when they could write together without killing each other. Their writing partnership has rewarded them with wonderful journeys into the realm of fantasy, culminating in their epic world, Secramore. The couple shares a love of nature and art and lives in Northeast Ohio with their Kirin and large family of cavies.

Book preview

World MapNorthern MapCurse of the Ravenstone

1

THE MARK OF THE STONE

They came in from the night, three strangers who brought with them a pestilent silence conjured from the workings of a dark and unknown force. The silence infected the tongues of the occupants of the humble inn, who could do nothing to wrest their wary eyes from the short and shrouded figure carried in by its grim-faced guardians. It did not bode well that the outlanders arrived on the wings of so unusual a storm. The stained skies had now been soiled by dusk, but the wind continued to speak in low and foreboding tones—the only voice to be heard—until the door to the strangers’ room had been shut.

Behind the barrier, somber words remained muffled, accompanied by long pauses and the sound of pacing feet. No guest felt compelled to wander past, but even if one had, he could not have imagined the scene transpiring on the other side. Of the Jornoans within, one—the pacer—glanced anxiously at the bed containing the frail form of his leader. At the bedside, a giant, who reflected no less concern than his restless companion.

How could we have met with such failure? Hesun lamented. We knew the strangers were conspiring against us, and yet four of us have perished. Perished—at the hands of petty thieves!

Nesif did not look at him. Their leader was no petty thief. He made it so we kept our distance from him, and we should have realized his ploy.

Our brothers should be avenged, Hesun said, fists clenched.

That is not our purpose. Nesif stood and faced him. As it is, the outlanders are facing their fate. The jinxed boy has been wounded, and their leader was struck by the Ravenstone. If there is any magic in him, he is being sundered. He strode up to his companion and rested a hand upon his shoulder. We will have time to mourn the fallen once Rashir has recovered. They will not be forgotten.

Hesun looked past him to where the Priagent lay upon the bed. Will he recover?

We must have greater faith in his strength, Nesif said.

"Yes, but the Ravenstone⁠—"

Is ours, said a weak voice. Rashir did not attempt to sit upright or move at all. You mistake success for failure. The stone, the staff, the demon—where are they?

Asmat keeps them in the stable, Nesif said.

Were they not what we sought? For the lives we lost, we gained the victory, and our mission remains.

Nesif and Hesun approached the bedside. What of your health? Hesun asked. How do we help you?

I do not need help. I will rise stronger than before. The Ravenstone has given me fortitude. At last Rashir lifted his hand for Nesif to assist him. The giant did so, but as the Priagent sat forward, his hood fell away. Both brothers took a step back, for lesions of black skin covered their leader’s face. Oblivious to their reaction, Rashir managed a smile. Nothing has changed. We will proceed to Kitrimar as planned.

Jinx shifted uncomfortably where he lay, drawing a sharp breath as he rolled onto his injured side. He opened his eyes to the darkness of the forest, knowing he would not have found sleep anyway. Arcturus’s deep snoring hinted that his companions might have fared better in their pursuit of restful slumber. As his vision adjusted, he could see the forms of his friends around him, and he was surprised that Ruby had nestled next to Kariayla.

I don’t blame her. I’m not too happy with me, either. Thoughts of Arshod’s empty stare staved any hope of pleasant dreaming. The magic sword lay several feet from him, where he had abandoned it hours ago. We never really had a chance, did we? he thought, staring miserably at the weapon. Lorth, I’m an ass. Great hero, great thief. Didn’t save the Demon, didn’t get the stone. Ran away from danger, killed somebody, and got hurt all in one day. The bad guys won. He drew his sleeve across his eyes and took a breath. If I had a home to go back to, I’d wanna go there now. Instead, I’m stuck in this haunted forest….

Jinx.

Kariayla was watching him.

Yeah? he whispered back, trying to sound casual.

Instead of a reply, she crept over to him, careful not to wake the sleeping imp. Have you slept at all? she asked.

Jinx shook his head. Don’t say nothin’ to her, or you’ll sound like a baby.

You can tell me, if you want to, she said, as if reading his thoughts.

Even in the dark, Jinx could see the concern in her stormy eyes. She always wanted to help. But she can’t. She can’t take back what happened. He sighed, feeling guilty at the thought of ignoring her.

Remember what you told me—about what happened in your temple? he asked.

Slowly she nodded.

Well, now I know how you feel. I… I killed someone. Someone who coulda been my friend. Maybe he kinda was. But I can’t stop thinkin’ about it. He bit his lip. Just start cryin’, too, why dontcha?

Kariayla was quiet a moment, until her gaze turned to the sword. William said to use it only if you had to, and you had to.

I guess. He pulled out his knife and started fidgeting with it. There was nothing she could say to help him, and he knew it. It was better he did not speak of it at all. Better to change the subject. Do you…think we’re done?

Done?

With trying to be the heroes, he said. I don’t want to be parta this anymore. Maybe I’m a coward, but I think I just wanna go back—back to bein’ a street thief, I mean.

Do you mean that? She looked at him, and he turned away. I don’t know if it would be so easy. I don’t think I could abandon the mission; the danger is still there. The Priagent still has the Ravenstone.

And what’re we gonna do about it? Jinx demanded. ’S not our fault. He had it before we came to take it. Why do we gotta save the day? We didn’t this last time….

I don’t think you’re the only one who feels this way, Kariayla said. It’s all right to be afraid. But nothing has changed. We are still the only ones who know about the danger. Maybe you do not feel responsible, but I do.

Who says I’m afraid? Jinx asked. I just don’t think we can help. He bit his lip, but the words tumbled out anyway, And now Hawkwing’s gonna die, and we’ll all probably⁠—

No. She had said it with enough force that he blinked. The Ilangiel won’t let him die. And I believe with all my heart that we can do this. She drew her hand to her breast. They showed me, Jinx. I know the truth now about what happened in the temple. It’s Eruane—the Spirit of the Storm. She is with me, and I know she will help us. She’ll protect us.

His jaw dropped, and the knife froze in his hand. Ya saying there’s a spirit inside you?

Kariayla nodded.

And she’s the one who killed that priest-guy?

Another nod.

Oh. He tried to consider what that truly meant, but spirits and haunted forests were not anything he had had experience with. "You really think these forest people can help Hawkwing? They just look like normal folks in robes to me. I kinda thought they’d be—I dunno—different somehow." He tried to sit up, his hand jolting to his side when the pain struck him. He saw Kariayla frown, and he instantly took his hand away.

"They are different, she said, her brow furrowed. They are truly radiant—filled with light and warmth."

Jinx shrugged.

’Tis the glamour, said a voice from behind them. Atrion had left his vigil to join the conversation. He sat down adjacent to them, seemingly oblivious to their embarrassment. Not all can see us for what we are. ‘Tis a defense of my kind, to remain hidden in plain sight.

Yeah, but nobody sees you anyway, Jinx said. You stay in the woods. You’re like a little kid’s story. Most people don’t think you’re real.

Aye, Master Jinx, for we have evaded mortal eyes since the end of the War of Light and Shadow. Our purpose in shaping your world had come to an end, and so we retreated to Veloria. There are not so many of us who remain, and we have little cause to interfere with mortal lives.

Which is why Chierond will not take the Ravenstone, Kariayla said, a hint of frustration in her voice.

Atrion looked at her. He does not think it will come to any consequence in the hands of a mortal.

But it has, Kariayla insisted. Look at Hawkwing.

Atrion said nothing, turning to Jinx. You are yet injured.

Jinx found his hand had gone to his side again. It’s not bad, he said.

You need not suffer, the Ilangien said. And perhaps you would like to see.

See? Jinx echoed nervously. Atrion reached for him, and had Jinx been quick enough, he would have drawn back. Instead, he felt a gentle pressure upon his forehead, a tingling warmth that came from the strange man’s fingers. It spread though him as if he had sipped a warm drink, only the feeling was nearly overwhelming in its euphoria. Light and color danced before his eyes, and the forest sparkled with a life he had not seen before. Atrion, as Kariayla had described, was glowing like a star.

The sensation ebbed when the Ilangien withdrew, but his glow did not diminish, and the forest continued to sparkle. Jedinom’s Sword, Jinx breathed. What kinda magic was that?

"You have felt the power of the Ilán," Atrion said.

Right. Jinx rubbed his eyes. So what I see is real? You really do glow?

Atrion smiled.

Jinx felt at his side. It’s gone, he whispered. You fixed it! He looked at the Ilangien with hope. Like your friend’s gonna help Hawkwing.

The smile faded. Chierond is the Eldest. He is stronger than any of my kind. He is also the Voice of the Forest. His words echo the words of our emperors, who breathe through every life in Veloria. ‘Tis for him to decide our involvement in your quest.

Whaddaya mean? Jinx asked.

He means they might not help us, Kariayla said.

Were it for me to decide, Lady Kariayla, I would join you. Atrion turned away.

Why can’t you decide? Aren’t you free to make your own choices? she challenged.

Yeah, you can come if you want to, Jinx pushed.

Atrion regarded them thoughtfully. "I do not have the liberty you believe I have. But there was one who defied the Eldest. He was stronger in spirit than me, and he believed the time had come for our people to leave Veloria and become known again in the world of mortals.

He was proud and arrogant but also brilliant and clever. He was also gifted with powers of the mind, and in those powers he demonstrated much potential. He would often, against the order of the Eldest, venture beyond Veloria, in disguise, and visit Human villages. He would return with amazing tales and sometimes tokens of his adventures.

Then maybe he would come with us, Kariayla suggested.

There is no doubt that he would, Atrion said softly, were he here.

Where is he? Jinx asked.

The Ilangien’s placid expression gave way to sorrow. We cannot say. He was taken while on one of his ventures outside the forest. I should have been with him, but I feared more the ire of the Eldest.

Didn’t you search for him? Kariayla asked.

Aye. We searched the Human villages, but there was naught to speak of his abduction.

Jinx scratched his head. Well, how do you know he didn’t just leave? Maybe he wanted to go to new places.

Atrion stood. I know him well enough to speak for his intentions. He, too, was a prince of Veloria—my brother—who has been lost for nigh a century without a whisper.

Is that a long time? Jinx asked, uncertain.

A hundred years, Kariayla whispered to him.

"That is a long time to be lost, Jinx said. I’m sorry."

Now you know why the Eldest so fiercely minds his people, Atrion said. Fault me if you must, but if my will was strengthened with my brother’s defiance, I would join you. He bowed and returned to his vigil.

Hawkwing opened his eyes to the sound of a cheery stream that chuckled and laughed over the rocks and sticks as it kept its meandering course. He sat up and drew a breath of sweet air. He was surrounded by a cathedral of forest trees, the sun filtering through brilliant green facets of glass. He took off his hat to feel the warmth of the dappled light upon his face and tried to remember how he came upon this place.

I had not expected to see you again, came an aged voice.

The tracker turned to see an old man sitting upon a log behind him. He bowed his head to the elderly visitor. Master Chierond.

The old man returned the nod. Master Hawkwing.

You must forgive me, Hawkwing said, rubbing his brow, "but I can’t recall my—our—arrival. My friends…."

Are being tended, Chierond said. Think not of them.

Instinctively, Hawkwing looked skyward, but only the trees’ leafy boughs waved back at him. I’m certain they told you what happened. The Ravenstone… The pieces of his memory were like scattered raindrops, and he was waiting for the collective puddle to form. It was not like him to be so muddled in thought.

The old man gazed at him, unblinking. It is of no consequence. Not to you.

It is, Hawkwing said, confused. That was our purpose. We were sent to retrieve it.

Chierond frowned and shook his head. That was William’s purpose. How came you to serve him in this endeavor?

He asked, and I accepted, the tracker said slowly. I do believe there is danger in the Priagent possessing the stone. I don’t know his intentions, but he can use it. He glanced skyward again and continued. We didn’t succeed. Rashir flees with the Ravenstone, Whitestar, and the Demon—‘Collin.’ Hawkwing thought about the white-skinned boy who so desperately claimed to be his brother and his own promise to help free him. The Demon’s last words to him still made him shudder. The king will eat you too.

No mortal can wield the Ravenstone without consequence, Chierond said. The Priagent will be his own undoing. I regret that William’s needless quest was yours. His stone expression softened. Your liberation from the Durangiel gave you the chance to return home to your family….

Hawkwing heard the unspoken question, his gaze falling to the rich earth of the forest floor. There was no home to return to, he said quietly. "You should know that I do not feel indebted to Bill, and he never sought to place that weight upon me. I chose to accept this task."

He is still master of manipulation, Chierond said. My ire is not easily sparked, but William so often strikes the stones.

That he may be, but I have witnessed the need for his fears. The Priagent can usurp others to serve his will, and he can use the stone to seize their magic. The tracker lifted his eyes, thoughtful. I cannot fathom his objective. If it is conquest, then, of what?

Chierond stood and gestured to the forest as though Hawkwing had not spoken. This place…do you not find it peaceful?

It is as I remember it, Hawkwing said, picking his words like crumbs left on a trail. I mean no insult, but I feel we must make haste. Whether or not the others will want to continue this pursuit, I need to find Rashir’s trail before he covers it. I don’t know his destination, and I fear he will⁠—

Your quest is at an end, Chierond interrupted.

Hawkwing stared at him. I don’t understand. He picked up his hat and rose. Chierond, where are the others?

The old man did not answer but turned and motioned for him to follow. Hawkwing did, a growing sense of urgency quickening his gait until he was nearly on Chierond’s heels. They followed the stream to where it fed a pool of azure water, and there the old man stopped.

Your answers are here, Chierond said. What you suspect needs no confirmation, but look if you must. He held out his hand before the pool.

For as quickly as he walked before, Hawkwing could not push his feet beyond a slow and wary approach. He knelt at the bank, set his hat to the side, and bent over the smooth surface of the water. Peering back at him was a ghastly visage, hollow-eyed and sunken with ashen flesh drawn taut over bone. The corpse’s mouth slowly opened, and he realized his own lips had simultaneously parted. Immediately, he recoiled and tried to shake the image from his mind.

You were struck by the Ravenstone, the old man said, his voice cold. The Shadow will destroy you, and you will perish before the dawn. I have eased your suffering, and in this place you will know peace before your end.

Hawkwing gaped at him. I… The words were gone—as gone as his world. Where he was now—it was not real. The mission was at an end, as Chierond had said. The Priagent, the Ravenstone, the Demon, Arcturus, Jinx, and Kariayla—none of them were part of his future—his end. He sat back and took up his hat, holding it tightly in hands that no longer trembled. This is how I die, he thought. Yet again, he found himself glancing at the heavens, thinking of the one companion who had been with him the longest on his journeys. Even she was gone.

I thought I was ready. I knew it could end this way, Hawkwing murmured, more to himself. But I find I’m not… I’m not ready. Nothing is finished.

What you deem finished is a matter of your own perceptions. Chierond came to him and took the hat from his hands. It turned to dust and lifted into the wind, beyond sight. I am sorry that I could not save you.

But I’m not ready, Hawkwing thought, closing his eyes to shut out the dream around him. He wanted to open them to Veloria—the real Veloria—steeped in night, where familiar faces awaited his return. How will I know? he whispered. But there was no reply. He opened his eyes. Chierond was gone.

2

A FAREWELL

Arcturus did not find it difficult to rise—perhaps because his sleep had been fitful or because he somehow knew something was amiss. He reached for the staff he knew was absent, sighing at the reminder of their great loss. Kariayla hovered near him, though she kept her thoughts to herself.

What’s goin’ on? Jinx whispered. It was still dark, but the night was threadbare enough to hint at faded shades upon the horizon.

I do not know, James, he returned solemnly. Our host wishes for us to follow him.

In silence they took to the narrow path, following their luminous guide. The soft shuffle of their feet, the stirring of small rodents, and quiet chirps of roused birds left them in a hushed sort of reverence, like latecomers to a temple ceremony. They did not walk long before the sound of trickling water reached them. The trees circled a glade, where the starlit sky touched the earth unimpeded, and moonlight alternated with clouds in broken patterns upon the soft grasses and wildflowers. In the center of the clearing sat the Old Man of the Forest, and at the foot of his rock-throne lay one of their own.

The old man stood, taller and straighter than Arcturus recalled. I regret this to be a parting of ways, he told them as they approached.

Arcturus stiffened at his words, and he came to stand with Kariayla, Jinx, and Ruby before a man nearly unrecognizable but for his great height. Like stone Hawkwing lay there, his sunken eyes shut in an expressionless mask. To say he looked peaceful would belie his drawn and sickly appearance; the strained and irregular rise and fall of his chest stirred his whole form from the effort.

Chierond stepped away from Hawkwing to allow them to approach, but no one moved to break the invisible barrier that kept them from the dread sight before them. The Ravenstone has caused irreparable damage, and the Light cannot save him, the old man said in a low voice. Though his body fails him, he does not suffer. With the dawn he will fade quietly.

You mean he’s gonna die, Jinx said flatly.

Arcturus closed his eyes and sighed. He did not need to see Jinx’s face to hear the tremor in his voice.

You can’t lettim die, the thief reasoned. You’ve got strong magic. You healed me. He just got touched by a stupid rock.

Master Hawkwing is a being of magic, as are your companions. The Ravenstone does not discriminate. It destroys what it touches.

He spared me his fate. I would have been the one afflicted. Arcturus opened his eyes but could not lift them to where the tracker lay. I never offered my gratitude. I never apologized for the damage I had done.

Please. Just—just help him, Jinx said, taking a step in Chierond’s direction.

I am sorry, Master Jinx, the old man said. For the magic we possess, we regretfully cannot mend all things.

Arcturus took hold of his shoulder, but the thief shrugged him away. So we haveta watch him die.

James.

No. Don’t talk to me, Jinx said. He walked away to sit in solitude, his face buried in his hands.

Arcturus turned to Kariayla, who had Ruby clinging to her side. My dear, he began, but when her wide, gray eyes looked up at him, he could say nothing more. He watched the tears run down her face through his own blurry eyes.

Shall we say our goodbye? he asked at last.

Kariayla nodded, and Ruby trailed them to Hawkwing’s side. Even though he was so near, Arcturus could not regard the tracker. It was too late to say anything, and anything said would be for his own benefit and of no use at all.

When Kariayla began to speak, Arcturus listened with a pained heart. But her words, though very soft, hinted at a song.

"From the sky so vast and cold

Fell a snowflake, fragile and bright.

Joined by a million, to light on the earth,

Where warmed by ground, it began to change

To melt and to vanish into the air,

Where the winds swept it up

And carried it back to the sky."

Arcturus had not noticed when she had left his side. He remained immobile, lost in thought and in heart. For the rift he had caused, he thought he should stay. He would wait for the early sun to mark the tracker’s passing, and then… Then nothing. The journey was over.

He did not know what possessed him to turn his sight to the tops of the trees. The white hawk sitting a distance away had uttered no sound, nor had it stirred in the time they had been there. Yet faithful, he murmured. Who will you follow now?

Chierond was suddenly beside him. You speak of his companion.

The bird, yes, Arcturus said, empty.

She has accompanied him the duration of your journey?

Longer than that, I suspect, Arcturus said. He found the old man’s attention was not upon the hawk but upon him.

You had known Master Hawkwing was not Human.

Arcturus gave a half nod. Falquirian, he had said.

Aye. Do you know the nature of a Falquirian?

No, Arcturus said, rubbing his brow, I do not. He never did say. He watched Chierond step away, his head lifted toward the trees and the bird in question.

What is he going to do? Kariayla asked, rejoining him. Even Jinx had raised his eyes to watch the peculiar old man start for the trees.

I cannot say. Arcturus rubbed his beard, uncertain he was capable of humoring the antics of a mysterious woodland being while his heart was yet so heavy. Though Chierond spoke easily of his disdain for William, Arcturus found his mannerisms were not so different from the quirky but powerful wizard. Perhaps great power warps the mind, he mused.

The old man raised his hand to the tree, as if Snowfire would simply hop to his bare arm.

She would only come to Hawkwing, Kariayla said. Why would⁠—

Snowfire glided down from her perch, a descending fragment of a cloud that nestled upon the ground at Chierond’s feet. He bent down, his hand outstretched. There was a glimmer of light that bridged between them, and in a heartbeat, the white hawk grew into a tall and slender woman. Chierond held her hand, helped her stand upon unsteady legs, and then the light faded.

Arcturus had forgotten to breathe. Pale like a spring flower and no less delicate, she was supported by the old man, whose shoulders were apparently stronger than they appeared. Her long hair was light enough that it was nearly white, and it flowed over her fragile frame as if to maintain her unclothed modesty. As they neared, Arcturus could see that her beauty was marked by her maturity, though she was certainly not old or worn by any consideration. She looked at him in passing, with sky-hued eyes and a silent expression that betrayed her fear and confusion.

Who is she? Jinx breathed, having rejoined the group. His reddened eyes followed the woman’s every move, until she had been brought to Hawkwing’s side. Whether her legs failed her or her emotions overwhelmed her, she was immediately upon the ground, her fingers alive and desperate to coax the dying man from his state of oblivion.

Drena, Kariayla whispered, and both Arcturus and Jinx looked at her. She did not elaborate, taken completely by the scene before them. The pale woman took Hawkwing’s hand in both of hers and looked up at Chierond. Nothing was uttered, but it was clear there was a conversation unfurling between them. She turned from the old man and lay beside the tracker, holding fast to his arm, as if willing it to hold her close.

This, this is not for us to witness, Arcturus realized, ashamed. Yet awe and disbelief would not allow him to turn away. Chierond’s words returned to him in a wave of sorrow. A parting of ways.

There was an edge to the sky—a dark boundary that encircled his world and shrank a little with every passing moment. It was not like the night, for there was no natural transition into a starry zenith. It was more a void—an empty darkness slowly devouring what was left of the life he had known.

Hawkwing sat and watched it helplessly, his thoughts fleeting and never so irrelevant. He had no tears to shed, no cause to plead. He did feel incomplete, as though his final mission had been stripped from him before he could even try to reach his goal. The Ravenstone was significant, but he realized now that he had a brother—a brother waiting for him—needing him. Selfishly, he longed for company—another being to share in conversation and travel the continent. For a man who had so enjoyed the presence of others, most of his memories were of solitude. Surrounded by people, but always alone. Perhaps it was what he deserved, as a wanderer with horribly misplaced priorities. He should have realized that death was always the final act, and it was always a soliloquy.

He found it strangely unfitting to reflect upon his life now—now that it was at an end. He had heard the elderly reminisce about earlier days of wonder and mischief in their youth, but their stories had always been deeply nestled in the brambles of regret. Regret was bitter, and it usually festered through years of unhappiness. He certainly had his share of regrets, but was he so old as to be bitter? He could not imagine so, for he had known just as much joy in his life. As for his age, he was no different from the others of his race—none of them would ever know senescence.

The dark band had seized the upper half of the sky, and it continued to fall. Hawkwing closed his eyes. Better not to watch.

Emérion.

It was a dream, that voice.

Fingers fell gently upon his shoulder, and he opened his eyes. Yes, a dream. The best he could have hoped for. He could not—nor did he wish to—stop the growing smile that could have only been inspired by her, his wife. Adréna. How long since he had uttered her birth name? Not since… It did not matter. She was here now.

He watched her as she sat beside him, remembering every detail about the woman he had not truly seen in twenty-three years. Her large eyes were brighter than the sky, her face was perfect—perfect despite the fact that it showed hints of age—the leanness and trace lines that subtly defied her youth. How was it he had contrived so accurate a vision?

You are so different, she said, speaking in their native language. She reached to graze his face, and though he wanted to close his eyes, he was afraid she would disappear if he did.

Am I?

You are so thin, she said, squeezing his shoulder.

Hawkwing laughed. More wandering, less laboring, he said. And age. Age will eat at you.

Has so much time passed? she asked, staring into his eyes.

You would not know it, but I have seen and felt every year, he admitted, his smile fading.

I can see it, she said, pointing to his eyes, they have stories in them.

Hawkwing’s brow furrowed. That is just the thing my wife would say.

Her own smile fled. You do not believe this is real. Em’ri, it’s me.

No. He shook his head. When you’ve been changed for long, you cannot return. Twenty years will not bring you back to me.

She took his hand and squeezed it. You must believe me. There isn’t time for doubt. Your friend has brought me to you as this final gift.

Hawkwing looked at her, stared at his hand in hers. His breath caught.

Adréna nodded through her tears and reached for him. He broke and shattered in her arms.

Sorry. I’m sorry, he said, his voice choked. Forgive me, Drena. There was too much to tell her, too much he wanted to explain, but he did not know how to begin. It was a lifetime of regret, and it could not be amended in this fleeting moment.

I forgave you long ago, she said, reluctant to pull away. You need to forgive yourself.

It was my fault, and now it’s too late. This is an ending, he told her, brushing the hair and the tears from her face.

She touched his cheek. But it’s not your ending, Em’ri. It’s why I’m here—to take your place. Your friend said it was the only way to save you. He will take from me what he needs to make you whole again.

Horrified, he moved back. No, I won’t let you.

For once, it is not your choice. And it is being done, even as we speak.

Why have you done this?

She smiled. Because you still have life in you. And because I love you.

Hawkwing pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. I can’t lose you again.

You’ll find me. We’ll all be together. Her eyes moved from him to the sky. Em’ri.

He could feel her slipping from him, no matter how tightly he held her. Or was he the