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Nox nodded thoughtfully. “The evil in that lineage has always sought to extinguish your light. Malakar has clearly made some adjustments to ensure he does not fall to it again.”

Images flashed across Cedric’s mind, as clear as if they came from his own memory. A glowing, luminous arrow soaring through a storm-soaked sky. A desperate cry as it struck a golden crown. A burst of life-giving light—first rushing from him in a great wave, then slamming back into him.

He shook his head. Not him. Her. The Shattering is what pulled Daephinia and Malakar both from the world, scattering their souls to the wind.

Or so he thought.

“He lost to my grandmother once,” Cedric said, his voice like stone. “He will not risk it happening again.” He fished the locket out from beneath his armor, still faintly warm as he clutched it between his fingers. “But we will ensure it does.”

The storage hut was a beacon as it burned, cleansing Ignatius’s and Tyrren’s bodies, as well as the dark magic that had corrupted them. The group had pulled what few salvageable supplies had still been inside, just in case the hut was less abandoned than they’d initially suspected. They also left evidence of the men’s presence in the form of their cloaks, dropped on the ground outside, should anyone from Daeglen wonder what happened to the two humans.

“Is there a way?” Cedric asked, eyes pinned on the flames that licked the wooden walls, smoke careening into the air. “To break the oaths once sworn? To undo Malakar’s influence before this happens to the rest of them?”

“Yes,” answered both Nox and Zephyr at the same time.

Nox inclined their head at the sylvan.

“There are ways to unweave the binds that have been woven,” she continued. “With blood made, with blood undone. It would take a strong magic wielder or one with a connection to the Verdant Veil to do so, but it can be done.”

“It may be easier with some than with others,” Nox added. “Those who committed their servitude under duress, for example, are likely able to be swayed. If we’d understood the true nature of the oaths those two”—they gestured toward the burning building—“made, I might have suggested they try.”

“On the other hand,” said Kit, coming to stand at Nox’s side, “you have Malakar’s disciples. Of which there are many, if the attack on the palace was any indication.”

Zephyr nodded sadly. “Yes. Even if they were willing to break their oath⁠—”

“Unlikely,” said Nox.

“—it would be near impossible to achieve.”

Cedric’s brow creased. Sid made a mewling sort of sound from where she was draped around the back of his neck, like a shadowcub-shaped scarf.

“I see what’s tickin’ inside that skull of yers, Ric,” said Thraigg, bracing himself against the handle of his giant hammer as it rested in the dirt. “Ye won’t be able to save everyone.”

Kit crossed her arms over her chest. “Most of them deserve their fate.”

Cedric sighed. “All this time, I’ve been wondering where the Cult of Malakar has been hiding. Why they’d disappeared, how we would ever find one of his agents to divulge his plans.” He released a bitter laugh, and Sid bristled. “As it turns out, they’re likely everywhere and may not even realize what kinds of agents they are. How many more cultists have carved out places for themselves across Nyrundelle—sitting, watching, waiting? How many of them don’t even know the terrible purpose they’ve been given?”

“And even if they do, evidently they won’t be able to tell us about it,” Kit griped. “How are we supposed to find out anything—what those plans are, where he’s holding Ellie—with all these odds stacked against us?”

“This is why we are headed to the mountain,” said Nox solemnly, and silence settled over the group, as though nobody quite knew what to say after that.

It was Tristan who eventually broke through the quiet. “All right. Well, we know where we were heading before this. What do you want to do about—ah!”

The knight stepped back, an alarmed noise slipping from his lips as a slice appeared in the very air before him. A wisp of darkness leaked from it, shadows coalescing into a small roll of dark parchment before the air was still once more, as though it had never been disturbed in the first place.

“Every day I grow more and more grateful that your power makes this possible, Tenebris Nox,” Tristan said with a low whistle.

Nox arched a single eyebrow as they retrieved the shadowscript paper. “I am so glad I could be of use.”

“It is certainly of great comfort knowing that we aren’t completely cut off from our friends back home,” said Zephyr.

“Know a lot about friendship, do you?” said Kit icily, and Zephyr shrank back.

Cedric pursed his lips. While he didn’t necessarily disagree with the sentiment—he was not entirely sure he had forgiven Zephyr for her betrayal at the end of the Crucible yet either—it wasn’t particularly helpful for Kit to continue alienating her. Not when she was here of her own volition, trying to make amends.

Not when they all had far bigger things to worry about.

“News from Kingshelm?” he asked.