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“Gone… all gone… can’t touch it… the pulse. Where’s the pulse?”a small, frantic voice murmured.

Tall shelves that had housed rows of exotic plants were toppled. The soil was upset and mixed, dry patches contrasting with dark, wet stains where water had pooled. The air was thick with the scent of fresh earth and crushed greenery. Ceramic pots lay overturned, roots exposed and drying in the open air.

“It’s silent! Not a whisper, not a murmur… why? Why?!”

Amidst the chaos, Taly found Kalahad sprawled in the wreckage. He was covered from head to toe in dirt. His fingers dug into the soil as he whimpered,“It’s gone… I can’t feel it anymore…”

Taly approached cautiously, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the broken earth. She knelt nearby, careful not to startle him.

“Kalahad,” she said gently.

He looked up, his eyes wide and unseeing. “It’s all gone,” he whispered hoarsely.

“What is?”

“The breath in the bedrock. The voice in the loam. The hush beneath the roots. She used to sing to me.” His voice broke, fingers twisting deeper in the soil. “I must be dead to her now.”

Gone was the calm, mocking veneer Aneirin had worn so well. The man in front of her was completely broken.

For an earth mage, the connection to life wasn’t just power—it was instinct, identity. To lose that…she couldn’t imagine. It would be like losing her magic all over again, but with no explanation, no clarity, and no hope of its return.

He sobbed into the soil, breath hitching against the grit and roots. Taly reached out, her hand hovering hesitantly over his trembling shoulder. “Kalahad, listen to me. You’re free now. And your magic…maybe it just needs time. Maybe you both do. Bill, he was poisoning you for a long time.”

Kalahad laughed. It was a low, unhappy sound. “He hated that name. You made him soangry.”

“I want to stop him, Kalahad.”

“Ha! A vessel cannot kill a god.”

“Humor me. If I wanted to try, where would I go to do that?”

She’d never been able to find him. No matter how hard she tried, how long she spent scrying, how many keys she uncovered, Bill could always find her, but she could never find him.

Kalahad’s sobs quieted. He panted into the dirt, hands buried to the wrist. A flicker of something passed over his face—the barest ember of defiance buried under years of ruin.

“Please,” she said, willing him to believe her. If there was anything left of the man he’d been, she implored it. “Tell me where to find him, and I’ll make sure he never hurts anyone again. That I promise you.”

Face smeared with dirt, Kalahad’s gaze sharpened and finally lifted to hers.

The next half hour crawled by so slowly, Skye wondered if he’d accidentally stepped into one of Taly’s spells. He listened to thetick-tock-tickof the clock on the wall, trying to measure the seconds.

Eventually, she emerged.

Ivain stopped his pacing. Sarina’s finger paused where she’d been drawing patterns in the air with her fire.

Skye could already feel Taly’s satisfaction—her outrightglee—as she came to stand before them.

“Aneirin is in Strio,” she said.

Grinning, she waited for the news to land.

But the room didn’t share her enthusiasm.

Ivain exhaled sharply. “Fucking—of all the—fuck!” The rest was a snarl of profanity—half in Common, half in some guttural dialect no one else spoke—punctuated by him kicking the nearest chair hard enough to send it skidding. Then he stomped off, still cursing, his voice fading as he went.

“I don’t understand,” Sarina said. “Is that bad?”

Skye only sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Let’s just say it’s not good.”