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I glanced up the hill where Syrra’s dark green cloak and black waves billowed in the salty air. It shouldn’t have surprised me that Syrra would be the one to bundle all the aids I would need to quit drinking again. She had overcome her own vice, andwinvrawas much more potent and much more deadly than Elven wine.

I turned back to Riven. Part of me wanted to tell him that even if I cared enough to stop, I couldn’t. That every night I would be visited by Damien and taunted by whatever memory he wanted me to relive. I bit my tongue, keeping that truth deep inside myself where it could not harm anyone.

But then a thought occurred to me. “Is there an elixir that can take away my dreams?”

I could see the question settle on Riven’s brow but he didn’t ask it. Instead he rubbed his reins between his finger and thumb and watched as a group of gulls soared up over the cliff beside us. “I’m not sure, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. I can ask the healers what can be done as soon as we return to Myrelinth. If not, perhaps Rheih can make something.”

A weight rolled off my shoulders and back down the trail as I looked at Riven. It had been a small step, a minuscule ask in comparison to everything we faced, but I couldn’t ignore the way the pain at my throat seared a little less.

“You have been too kind.”

Riven opened his mouth to protest, but I shook my head.

“You have been nothing but kind and patient when I have been everything but. I can’t undo the things I’ve said or the things I’vedone… but I will try to be kind again. To you and the others.”

The shadow around my wrist uncurled and lifted to my cheek. I felt the ghost of Riven’s touch along my face, soft and quick like a summer breeze.

Riven stopped his horse and I thought he was going to say something else, but his eyes were wide and focused on the trail ahead. We had climbed to the highest point of the cliff. It towered over the sea the way mountains peered down at their valleys. Time had flattened the peak, leaving nothing but a small meadow with long blades of grass and shrubbery swaying in the wind. A large gorge split the peak from the rest of the summit, leaving only a small bridge for our horses to cross.

The others had dismounted and let their horses graze. Their eyes tracked along the ground but I knew they saw nothing but green grass covering the peak. Riven let out a tight gasp and hisbrows furrowed. He pointed to the ground as I finished crossing the bridge, seeing what the others could not. The untouched meadow had disappeared and instead there was a circular design cut through the grass in thick black lines as if a fire had permanently scorched the earth.

Riven dismounted his steed and walked the perimeter of the design. Still perched on my saddle, I saw that the curved lines intersecting the others grew tighter at the center of the seal. They formed a web across the ground, just like a spider’s silk.

I dropped my reins and dismounted my horse. From the gasps that echoed into the wind, I knew the glamour had shattered for the others the moment I touched the ground. I stepped to the edge of the seal and knelt beside it. Nikolai started to speak, but Syrra held up her hand as I traced my finger over the circular edge.

I grazed the scorched earth, staining my fingertip black with ash. A harsh wind blew across my face and I lurched forward, scared that the gust would blow away the seal before we could decode it. But instead the seal had reignited. What had been black scorched earth was now dark red embers. As I peered closer, I saw the middle lines were not solid at all, but tightly written script.

Riven’s eyes narrowed, noticing the script immediately. “Can you read this?” he asked Syrra. The Elf shook her head. Gerarda turned to Vrail who was circling around the seal caught between a walk and a run.

“I can’t read it fully, but I’ve translated enough.” She paused and stepped delicately inside the circle. We all held our breath, waiting for something to happen, but when it didn’t Vrail settled her second foot in another space between the curved lines.

“Iq’troth danzir, El’ferah kiiltho iqwe’fir,” she whispered to herself and then again to us.

I turned to Syrra but she only shrugged. “That tongue is long forgotten. There were some speakers left when Faelin cast the second sun, but all were gone by the time I was born. I doubt even Feron could decipher the script.”

“This is why you all must read more books,” Vrail mumbled to herself, still studying the writing. “This word here—iqwe’fir—means magic. And this one I recognize as Elverath.El’ferah, they are different on the page but similar on the tongue.”

“Very clever, Vrail,” Nikolai whispered. He looked down at her like she was one of his inventions. As if he wanted to take apart her mind and put it back together again until he understood exactly how it worked.

The tops of Vrail’s full cheeks flushed. “I have my moments.” She pointed to the third line. “This is where it speaks of a blade marked by blood.”

“Aren’t all blades marked with blood eventually?” Nikolai grabbed his elbow, letting go of his stretched strand of hair.

“Drawing blood and being marked by blood are not the same,” Vrail answered more to herself than to us. Her gaze was locked on my hip where my dagger was usually kept.

Syrra’s brows rose. “You think Keera’s blade was blood-bound?”

Vrail nodded several times. “It would explain how it made its way back to her. But I’ve only read about them. I’ve never seen a blood-bound blade in its glory.”

“Have you?” Riven turned to Syrra.

Syrra shook her head. “Not one that has not been broken.”

My headache scratched at the base of my skull. “Can one of you explain what she’s talking about?”

Vrail straightened her back, ready to give a lesson, but it was Syrra who stepped forward to explain. “The courtyard atNiikir’nahad a design made from the stone, it had five circular branches on it like the branches that surround the Myram tree.”

I stilled. How many times had I trained in that courtyard at the Order? How many times had I walked across the stone without giving that design a second thought? I had never realized how similar it was to the Myram tree. I swallowed and ignored the urge to tell Syrra that the same symbol was carved into my back.