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I want to say no. Ishouldsay no, but do I listen to reason and tell her thanks, but no thanks?

Of course not.

The drachen threat looms too large. “Okay. I can do that. Please, no murder-y favors, though.”

This is so going to bite me in the ass.

“Then a deal has been struck, daughter of flame.” Satisfaction weaves through her words. “In the forgotten wing of the palace, you will find the directions you need.”

Forgotten wing? What is she talking about? The old wing of the palace where Sterling, Jasper, and their younger sister grew up when their father was king? And how does she know I’ll find what I need there? Panic flickers as the void contracts. Am I going to be left alone in this binding nothingness?

But the blackness lifts, peeling away as if torn from the fabric of reality. This time, I keep my hands to myself, blinking against the sudden intrusion of light. The temple walls and the familiar alter before me become visible once more. An eternity could have dragged past since I came here, yet I’m sure it’s only been minutes.

A hand clasps mine, urgent, warm.

I return to the barely lit room of the temple, which now seems to shine bright enough to sting my eyes.

The sudden grip on my hand yanks me back to a world of shape and shadow. I blink, vision swaying as the temple swims into focus and Sterling’s concerned face comes into view.

“What happened?” He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me so hard I can barely breathe. “I’ve been calling your name, but I couldn’t see you. You literally disappeared.”

The scent of leather and soap and spice grounds me in reality. His touch ignites sparks at each point of contact. I savor the feel of him, the solidity of his presence. My gaze locks onto his, drinking in the sight of his ebony hair, the depth in his brown eyes that always seem to hold a storm within them.

I press a hand to his chest, putting the slightest amount of space between us so I can actually breathe. “This might sound a little crazy, but it was Nyc. She came to me.”

“Holy shit.” He exhales in a rush, tension bleeding from his posture. “What did she say?”

The weight of the goddess’s deal hangs heavy on my tongue, but for some unknown reason, I don’t share it.

Still, I have to tell him something. “She told me we need to seek out phoenix tears in some place called the Hidden Valley. And she told me where to find the thing that will lead us there.” The truth, if not the whole truth.

“Phoenix tears.” Sterling mulls over the words, the soldier in him surfacing, assessing, planning. “We should return to the palace, prepare for the journey.” His suggestion carries the promise of action, something tangible to cling to amid the uncertainty.

“Wait.” Curiosity piqued, I step away from him and trace the smooth rim of the jar.

The lid falls to one side as I peer inside, heart hitching at the sight of nothingness. A void where my offering once was. Nyc’s acceptance sends a shiver down my spine, the air crackling with the remnants of divine presence.

“What is it?”

“Look.” I show Sterling the empty vessel. “The harbinger owl’s feather…it’s gone. Could it be why she spoke to me?”

Sterling grabs the jar, peering inside as if expecting the offering to still be there. When his eyes meet nothing but darkness, they shift to me. “Where did you even find a harbinger owl? They’ve never been seen in this area.”

“There was one in the Lost City.”

The land was also protected by cave cats who seemed to recognize my blood. And a door that recognized my blood. One that granted me access to a room where I saw a vision about Nyc.

Has she been leading me this whole time? Or maybe her daughter, the goddess Mar? After all, dreams are Mar’s domain, and my dreams are what first led me toThe Chronicles of the Mother Wurmin the first place. I found the book in a dream, then in real life, and I was curious. That’s how we learned of the drachen. And my family. And now Nyc wants a favor.

Movement catches my eye, and I find the priestess standing behind the altar. “Harbinger owls and cave cats have always been Nyc’s favored beasts.” She nods at me, a knowing smile on her pale lips.

She certainly understands more about what I’ve gone through than I’ve told her. I realize I can see her much more easily than I could before. My eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness of Nyc’s presence.

The goddess never told me if the drachen are associated with the myth about her son. Because the two have nothing in common? Or because what mother wants to speak ill of their child?

The priestess doesn’t appear surprised. I dip my chin and wonder if the gods speaking directly to humans isn’t an anomaly after all. Nyc spoke to Queen Aero as well. Perhaps these interactions occur more often than people realize.

Considering how sacred the experience was and how shaken I still am, I don’t plan on telling anyone about what I went through either.