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Helpless and lonely.
The tarthill lets out a keening whine from the ledge above.
The ledge!
And beyond it the stars. Memories.
Of Rosie taking me in, letting me live in her Tavern.
Of Bane giving me a dagger to keep me safe.
Of Marrow, teaching me to use my voice, to believe in myself.
Another tear slips down my cheek as I haul myself over the edge, mustering the remaining energy with one final pull.
Ramona, Gryphon, and Selene are all sleeping in a pile of limbs. Leaf is the only one awake, stoking a fire with a long stick. He must have joined sometime in the night.
“Oh, Kem,” he says, running to where I’m lying, too exhausted to move. “Come here, babe.” He pulls me into his arms and carries me closer to the fire where the rest of my friends were waiting for me.
I snuggle into the crook of Leaf’s shoulder as the adrenaline washes away like a tide, replaced by the pull of sleep.
Closing my eyes, I let the blissful rest take me.
I was never alone after all.
24
Erebos
The war room sits at the heart of my castle like a wound that never closes.
Stone arches loom overhead, their surfaces carved with the victories and failures of Terraguard’s long history. Torches hiss against damp cavern air, their light struggling against the endless dark beyond the chamber walls. Maps are spread across the obsidian war table before me, inked with patrol routes, infection clusters, and now—more and more often—little red slashes marking where we were forced to put our own people down.
I stand with both hands braced on the edge of the table.
The stone beneath my palms is cold, a juxtaposition from the warm breeze along the shores of Baiabella.
“Another three districts,” General Damaris says quietly, as if they already accepted the worst. Damaris stands across from me, tall and lean, their long blond hair braided down their back like a rope. Their finger traces the map. White chalk marks dot the parchment like snowfall. “People are turning within two days now,” Damaris continues.
Cadex leans his massive arms against the table and exhales loudly, face scrunched in mild annoyance. “Two days? Last week it was three.”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Cadex mutters, “that’s just fantastic.” He rubs his face. “Soon it’ll be a couple hours. Then we’ll all just wake up feral and start biting each other like cave rats.”
Damaris gives him a look. “Your optimism is inspiring.”
“I try.”
I straighten slowly. “Reports from the western tunnels?”
Damaris slides a parchment toward me. “Worse.”
I scan the words. My chest tightens, and I fight to contain the avalanche aching to cleave apart this entire fucking planet.
Entire households gone.
The infection starts with the white spots. Tiny flecks beneath the skin like grains of salt. Easy to ignore at first and hard to spot.
