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“We were just as surprised as you,” said Elyria. “But here we are. And we can’t wait any longer.”

“Shouldn’t you rest though? Or get yourself some sustenance, at least?” Tenny said, the words tumbling out in an overeager rush. It all seemed so sudden. Dawn was only barely starting to crest on the horizon.

“Don’t worry, the tavern master in Goldenvale made sure we were well fed before leaving,” Kit said. “Gave us everything, down to his very last rasher of bacon, upon someone’s instance.”

Elyria squared her shoulders, a smug smile tipping one side of her mouth. It disappeared a half second later, though.

“I wouldn’t get in her way when it comes to this, Ten,” Kit continued, lowering her voice. “When it comes to stopping him.”

Tenny swallowed thickly. “All right,” she said, turning back toward the encampment at the bottom of the hill. “Follow me.”

47

THE SEAM OF THE WORLD

ELYRIA

Fear was not the thing that had Elyria Lightbreaker’s fingers trembling as she stood at the edge of the mist-covered Chasm. No, it was anticipation. The hope and eagerness and expectation wrapped up in knowing what she was about to do.

What she thought, maybe, somehow, she’d always been meant to do.

Dawn had turned the sky behind the aurora a pale shade of gray, hiding the stars from view. Cedric’s hand was warm as it found hers, their fingers threading together in a way that felt so simple, so familiar now. The bond between them flared, a heartstring shining with their shared strength. She felt him in her blood, her soul, like a current at the base of her spine.

Elyria let herself breathe with him for several long moments, his power flowing through their life-bond, the power of the Crown of Concord seeping into her from where it sat boldly atop her head. Her wild magic ran rampant in her veins, seeking an outlet, ready to move.

She turned to glance behind her and Cedric. Dozens upon dozens of soldiers had formed an audience—lines of them craning their necks for a better vantage. They weren’t who Elyria was looking for, though. At their front stood Kit, Tenny, Tristan, Ollie, Zephyr, Thraigg, Shep, and even a large-again Sid, all of them watching with varying expressions—tense, wary, hopeful, awestruck, and in Sid’s case, somewhat unimpressed.

Elyria smiled to herself, then turned to face forward again. To face the beckoning Chasm.

“Are you ready?” Cedric asked, his voice blanketing her mind with love, pride, reassurance, and just the barest hint of fear.

Elyria tightened her grip on his hand. “Yes.” Then, just to herself, blocking the thoughts from their bond because she didn’t want to add to that thread of fear, Elyria prayed.

Not to any of the star gods in particular—not to Solaris or Lunara and certainly not to Aurelia or Noctis. Not even to the Earth Mother herself, who probably had the most cause to be invested in what they were about to do. Elyria didn’t know if any of the celestials bothered to listen anymore. She didn’t care if they did.

She prayed to the deep roots of the world, to the mana she knew flowed throughout Arcanis, the lines from which all power sprang. Please, she thought. Please work. Please let us protect you. Protect this.

She raised her free hand, fingers splayed, palm facing the earth as if she might draw additional strength from the soil. Darkness seeped out around her ankles, covering her and Cedric’s feet in black smoke. Tendrils of shadow crept over the ground, diving over the edge of the Chasm, sinking into rock and frost-hardened soil—seeking, searching.

“Follow the trail of my magic,” she told Cedric, and she felt the prickle of recognition down their bond. He, too, remembered the first time she’d spoken those words during the Crucible, the very first time they’d ever used their magic in tandem. Back when the task at hand was crossing a flaming lake, not stitching the world back together.

Still, there really was something so familiar about this now, even with the excess of power flowing through them both. Elyria’s crown was hot on her brow—pulsing, vibrating—as, together, they channeled wild and shadow and sunfyre, all braiding together in a glorious mélange of magic.

She did not consciously know what she was doing as she let that magic seep down, down, down, until it wrapped around roots so thick they felt like they were the very thing holding the world together. All she heard was Cedric’s sharp intake of breath. All she saw was the endless dark looming in front of her. All she felt was the hum of power, the terrible might of the crown skittering through her bones, eager to heal the yawning wound that gaped open before her.

Vaguely, Elyria understood that gasps were ringing in the air somewhere behind her, that awestruck words were being exchanged. But it all seemed so far away. For her, there was only Cedric, only their linked power, and only this.

Elyria pulled.

Roots burst from the side of the Chasm, tearing through the rocky walls. Not the delicate vines of merryleaf that Elyria favored when her mood was light, nor the thick, thorny brambles she used against enemies. No, to call these “thick” was to do them a massive disservice. These were pillars, ropes nearly as wide as a sylvan was tall—things of colossal heft. And as though the Chasm itself was a loom, they shot across it, forming a sort of lattice that stretched, suspended, over the abyss.

The land shuddered as the roots slammed into the walls on the opposite side, embedding themselves deep within the stone. Chunks of rock rained down, swallowed soundlessly by the void.

That was where the soundlessness ended, however, as shouts of alarm filled the air and the very world let out a groan. And then every single soul standing on the edge of the Chasm outside Kinsgaith was moving—not of their own volition, but because the earth itself had begun to shift beneath their feet, bringing them along with it.

Bright light filled the edges of Elyria’s vision, and she knew without looking down that it had to be coming from them—from her and Cedric both. She imagined how they must have looked to everyone standing behind them—two living luminaries, sunfyre and shadow wrapped around them from tip to toe, knitting the sundered world back together.

Two bloods, finding their way to heal the realm.