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Steel rang, drumming against horn and shield and blade as they chanted, “Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!”

“Now, little moon.” Brand’s fingers flexed against her. “Go. I’ll be right here.”

Lunara had no other words except, “I love you.”

She spent hours with Araxis in the mist over the last couple days, pinpointing every place the contingents needed to be deposited, one by one, to meet with their Sorcerit and Wolflord counterparts in strategic locations before they began their push.

Lunara misted through the ether to the furthest group nearest the Horned City’s center, snagging an outstretched hand. She seized their particles as one and wrenched them into the space between.

Solyrian seared Lunara’s eyes when they emerged, the stench hitting hard enough to make her gag. Though the nearby Thodelemaia chasm was still clear, the land was suffering even worse than before.

Tendrils of shadow evaporated from the ground, poisoning the thin air. Stalks that were brown and wilting on their last visit were now blackened and crumbling, the ooze and rot taking over.

The Westrealm of Thodelebor was so beautiful a few months ago, idyllic, and it killed her every time she landed on its once-rich soil to see it so changed.

Obernal and his twin sister, Estelle, were already waiting with a troop of Elders, a pack of Wolflords mingling between them.

The Rootsinger and the Blightbringer both bowed at the waist. “Blessed Keeper.”

“You know what to do,” Lunara said, and misted back to the Montrealm.

And so it went, back and forth, the same exchange with every Elder she encountered—until a wall of warriors spanned almost the entire length of the Westrealm. Until only two groups were left waiting in the Montrealm.

Lunara grabbed Lyriat’s thigh, his hands both occupied by colossal greatswords, and misted. On the other side, Caius was waiting with Cordelia and Auren the Hivewarden.

Both Auren and Cordelia bowed, bees and flames already dancing together around them. “Blessed Keeper,” they said in unison.

“You know what to do.”

They nodded and Lunara readied to go, but Caius stayed her. “Wait, lass,” he murmured, hand to his heart. “I need to apologize. We’re all spread thin, but I was a grumpy bastard earlier this morning. I’m sorry for it. Thank you for healing my lad. For giving Thaddeus a rest. I’ve been sick with worry over his state, thinking…well. It doesn’t much matter what I was thinking anymore. You’ve made him right as rain, and I feel all the better for it, too.”

That explains why he hasn’t yet shifted.

It tore at her heart.

“He’ll be fine,” she answered, hoping it was true. “But we should discuss it later, if all this goes well.”

“Aye.” Caius scrubbed a hand down his face, his salt and blond beard longer than she’d ever seen it. “I’m thinking you might be right, stars help us.”

Behind him, Cordelia’s crystalline eyes were locked on her, fire dancing in their depths. There was so much longing in the look that she couldn’t leave without…something.

Lump in her throat, Lunara said, “Cordelia the Firebane, your Blessed Keeper commands you to live, so you might finally repair the rift you created, and give her the bleeding chance to really forgive you. Please.”

Cordelia nodded once and turned away, and Lunara prayed it wasn’t the last time she saw her.

Lyriat nudged her with a membranous wing, the gesture a comfort. “We know what to do, and so do you. We’ll all see you soon.”

It’s fine. You’re fine. And it has to be enough. Now, go.

“Sooner than later, I hope.”

Lunara didn’t wait for a response.

Brand was kneeling when she returned to the Montrealm, arms wide, and she didn’t hesitate to take her place within them. That final pull through the ether sent her heart racing, the looming battle more real. More of a threat. If anything happened to any of these creatures, she wasn’t sure how she would survive it.

They joined Araxis in a rolling field in the dead center of Thodelebor, Driana the Orespinner and Sunestra the Arcsmith flanking him. Behind, Astra the Mindcleaver and Runex the Breathbane held command of their own group.

All but one started to bow, the words “Blessed Keeper” just leaving their lips, when Sunestra looked her dead in the eye and said, “It was me. I was the one vote.”