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Cedric thought of what happened in Daeglen and at Castle Lumin. He thought of Ignatius and Tyrren, their bodies contorting under invisible hands, eyes bleeding red, limbs cracking at all the wrong angles. He thought of Evander’s corrupted form as they’d battled him during the Crucible, of Elyria with her power strangled, leashed by the dark sorcerer’s shadows.

How many other forms could his power take? How many other ways could he hurt and maim and kill? How much more of a monster would he become with access to the very magic of the world?

“Is that what his followers could be digging for?” Cedric asked, stomach lurching. “Are they digging a path down to the Line?”

Shep shook his head. “Now, that would be impossible. They would have to dig for a decade. The Line is said to run so deep under Arcanis that even the Chasms do not touch it. That said, it isn’t as though anyone has ever flown down into the rift and returned to tell the tale. One can assume that, at the very least, barriers are . . . thinner there.”

“And he has forges, so we can assume that he’s forging something with them,” said Elyria. “A way to get to the Line? A means to pierce it once he does? He is still without his full power, after all, since I wasn’t generous enough to give it back.”

Pride bloomed in the center of Cedric’s chest, even as that tiny, thin wisp of shadow that was wrapped around his own ribs had him wondering what “full power” meant. Even if Elyria had been able to concede the shadows back to the dark sorcerer, what did it mean that Cedric had this minuscule thread of that same magic bound within himself?

He supposed it didn’t matter. “We have to assume the worst,” he said. “That Malakar can reach the Line and that he can pierce it, even with a chunk of his power still missing.”

“Or that he will eventually go looking for Elle again, if he does still need his power back,” said Jocelyn quietly, and Elyria stiffened.

Cedric tensed. “Either way, we have to stop him before any of that can happen,” he said—the words solemn, a vow.

“All the more reason for me to meet once more with the other elders—immediately.” Elder Larkess rose from her seat, the edges of her eyes downturned, exhaustion embedded in every line of her face. “May I take the locket for us to examine again, my boy? It is clear that figuring out how to unweave my magic is of utmost importance. The power of the Crown of Concord is what stopped Malakar before. After all you’ve told us—what he is capable of, the way he has twisted the oaths of his followers, and the number of followers he has—I fear he may be unstoppable without it.”

Cedric nodded, unclasping the locket from around the back of his neck and handing it to the elder. She, in turn, fastened the chain behind her head and, with a nod of thanks, made to leave. She only made it a few shuffled footsteps before her gait faltered, though, and both Young Shep and Thraigg leapt up from the table to help her.

Elyria hissed out a breath from between clenched teeth as the three of them walked away, her hands fisted on the tabletop.

Jocelyn looked from Elyria to Cedric and back again before swinging her legs out from under the table and rising from the bench with an awkward chuckle. “Think I’ll go see if I can swing a room to rinse off and rest before sending an update to Tenny. I’ve been on the move for a while. You’ll come find me if there’s any news, yes? Or if there are any . . . decisions made.”

“Of course,” said Cedric, and Jocelyn turned to follow the path that the rest of their group had just trod across the glade.

“Wait.” Elyria stood and walked around the side of the table, then pulled the fae into a fierce hug. “Thank you. For coming. For being here.”

Jocelyn didn’t quite seem to know what to do with the open affection pouring onto her from the Revenant. There was a long moment wherein she locked gazes with Cedric, her hazel eyes glassy. He could only smile. And finally, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around Elyria.

“There is nowhere else I could fathom being,” she said softly. And with a sad smile that crinkled her nose, she, too, was gone.

Elyria sat back down, opposite Cedric this time, and took his hand in hers before loosing a humorless laugh. “What a day.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth. Wishing you were still sleeping?”

“Don’t think the thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” she replied wistfully. “But no, of course not. There’s too much to do. Too much to learn, to decide. And I’m just so . . .” She took a breath. “We have to stop him. We have to stop them all, before they hurt anybody else.”

Cedric almost didn’t want to vocalize the thought now crossing his mind. But for the sake of truth . . .

“There’s something else that presents a bit of a complication,” he said, jaw tight. “The cultists I fought in Castle Lumin were one thing, but not all members of the Cult are loyal zealots. In Daeglen, we learned that firsthand. That’s why Tristan and Zephyr are headed to Kinsgaith—to learn if the blood oaths can be undone. They should be arriving soon. Might be there already.”

“Perhaps they will be able to learn more than that, if there are cultists to be found and swayed there,” said Elyria. “I, too, had an . . . experience . . . with one of Malakar’s followers. It showed me not only that some of their reasons for following him are more complex than I might’ve thought, but also that they may know things—important things, things that they don’t even realize. Maybe we should go to Kinsgaith too.”

Cedric shook his head. “You’re safe here,” he said resolutely down their bond. “And you get to take as much time as you need to recover and”—his gaze flicked to her shoulders—“decide what you want to do.”

Elyria’s throat bobbed. “Right. Of course.” But there was no ignoring the sense of urgency he felt now pulsing from her.

He squeezed her hand. “Besides, we need to be here for when Larkess finally figures out how to unbind the crown’s true form. Once we reunite the two halves, we’ll have the Crown of Concord and can make good on our original promise. Do you remember?”

“Of course.” A soft smile overtook her face, though it fell a moment later. “Even if it does feel like that conversation happened in a dream at this point.”

“Sometimes the entire Crucible feels like it was a dream.”

“A dream and a nightmare.” She bit her lip. “But you’re right. With the crown, we can seal the Chasms. And maybe that alone will stop Malakar’s plan.”

“And if not, we will have the power of the crown to stop him too.”