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Oh Shards, he could still hear them. Hearher.

I left because of you.

Because you weren’t strong enough.

“I know,” he whispered. Shards, he knew. He knew he had failed her just as much as he had failed those people at the canyon. He hadn’t listened when she needed him. He hadn’t realized she was saying goodbye.

What will you do, Skye?

The voices hissed at him. He thought he felt tiny shocks against his skin.

Are you listening?

What are you going to do?

Hey, Skye?

What are you going to do?

Are you going to let me die?

“Enough!” A fourth voice—still the same, but far more real. Skye cracked open his eyes to find a woman standing over him.

But not just any woman. No. This was the owner of that voice—Taly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry… or whether he had finally lost his Shards-damned mind.

She shooed away those vicious blue lights, not backing down when they let out a chimelike snarl. She seemed to repel the darkness itself as she pointed towards the ceiling, towards the worldabove, and barked, “Go! I shouldn’t have to tell you this is wrong.”

To his surprise, the lights obeyed. They chittered as they rose, hissing their displeasure. One took a swipe at her outstretched hand, only to skitter away when she didn’t yield, didn’t even flinch at the electric shock that crackled the air. “Go,” she said again, and they disappeared into the ceiling like wisps of blue smoke, leaving only the faraway drip of water and the rasp of Skye’s own ragged breathing.

There was a rustle of silk as she knelt on the ground beside him, and for a moment, Skye could only stare, greedily taking in every detail. Marveling at the impossibility.

Her skirts pooled around her, a mass of soft peach tulle that spilled across the debris-littered ground. Leaves embroidered in gold peeked from underneath, creeping across her waist and up her torso. They thickened across her body, tangling together to form the bodice. The neckline may have been considered modest if not for the way it clung to her, showing off every dip and curve. Her hair hung around her shoulders in golden waves, decorated only by a twisting crown of diamond roses.

She watched him carefully, her appearance so at odds with this dark and dirty place. The fire from his sword made the jewels in her hair, the gold of her dress, shimmer—like his own personal sun.

He mouthed her name.Taly.

Still not quite believing.

There was something strange about her features. She looked the same as he remembered, but also… older. Ageless in that way that all mature fey seemed ageless, despite the human roundness of her ears.

“Hello,” she said, smiling softly. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. You weren’t where you said you’d be.”

Skye straightened, slowly letting his hands drop from his ears. He reached out to touch her, then hesitated, not sure his heart could take it if he didn’t find flesh and bone. “You can’t be real,” he murmured.

“I assure you I can,” she answered, eyeing his hand, still hanging in the air between them. “Though you’re correct in assuming I’m not. The variables could still change.”

Skye frowned in confusion.

“For now, let’s just go withmaybe. If we get this right.”

She rose then, and Skye followed suit, his mind still grappling with the impossibility of what he was seeing. He could hear a heartbeat, yes. He could detect her scent over the reek of mildew and rot.

But it was off. Not quite the way he remembered, though he couldn’t say why.

The way she moved, the way she spoke, even the clothes she wore—it was all wrong. Like his perception of reality had been skewed half a degree.

Like he had wandered into a dream.