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“No, I’m far from alright. But thank you for your concern, do gràs.”

“Is there anything we can do?” she asked. “Véa, she’s… Both of you, of course.Allof you mean a great deal to our people, but Véa…”

“She’s a ‘chraobh. I know.”

We weren’t royalty on this world, meaning we didn’t have to deal with day-to-day politics and petty land disputes, but we were respected by all. Véa especially. Véa was adored almost everywhere she went.

It was different here, I had to admit. They had sculptures of her in their city centers. They had paintings of her throughout their castles, murals of her on walls.

She’d blushed the first time she’d seen the one in this world’s capital, saying how silly she found it. I’d told her she was beautiful. Of course people wanted to look at her. Her cheeks had only burned brighter.

A queen in each city possessed a book Véa had written. It was more of a journal, really. It told the story of her life, of the maalaichte cnihme, of the creation of this world. The queens had a scribe rewrite Véa’s version over and over again. All around this world, city leaders collected those texts and read them to the people.

They honored and revered all of us who’d created this land, who’d created the souls of the mortal world. They knew of the conflict with the Angels, that their goal was to destroy their a ‘chraobh, and they were happy to fight for us.

Or, rather, to fight for Véa. She was their tree of life, their shot at eternity. She’d given it to a few hundred people in just the last year since we’d been here. Even Iliantha was eternal because of her.

Much like how Morduaine adored their tree of life, those of the Land of Light were no different. I couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult her death would be for them to fathom.

“I’ll leave it to you to decide how you want to inform the people of what’s happened to her,” I said. “Or if you don’t want to at all. But yes, there is something you can do to help.”

“Anything,” she said. “Whatever you need to bring her back, we’ll give you.”

“I need a building.”

Dem looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. “A building?”

“One that’s impossible to escape,” I said. “Something that can hold the most vile beasts imaginable. Somethingimpenetrable.”

Iliantha thought for a moment, tapping her fingers on the tabletop. “I have many powerful elves who can cast excellent barrier spells.”

“That’s a start. But not just spells. I need it to be wall to ceiling Elvan ore—one solid hunk of it with no seams. It cannot have a single weakness, not even a crack. I can also assist with the wards. Heylel and Alastair can help me with additional spells from their blood as well.”

Dem squinted me over for a moment. “You’re going to imprison the boys.”

“Yes.”

He eyed me a moment longer. “Is that all, lad?”

No. It was not.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

LUX

It hadn’t gone well.

Nothing had gone well in a long time, but things only worsened when Lux returned to Matriax. Rafael had been in a fight for his life in the prison the boys had escaped from. Lux had lapsed to him and immediately lapsed them to safety.

But where was safety?

Nowhere on Matriax.

Lux’s home was overrun. The moment the guards—hisguards—saw him land, he was bombarded by a dozen Angels, holding his barely standing son up by his shoulders. They lapsed again.

This time to an empty cavern a few miles from the coast.

Rafael was in a bad way, bleeding profusely, drifting in and out of consciousness. He’d self-heal, but the stab wounds in his chest and stomach would not mend in minutes.