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I saw it all.

Through a torrent of dark mist and shadows, shrieks and pain and broken hearts spun around me. Memories were torn away and buried in the monstrous cloud. Through it all, I could see a dark figure, could hear his voice. Familiar, distant.

He pled with a goddess, with the spirits of the land. Each prayer grew darker, angrier. He sobbed and wailed wantingherback.

I landed on my belly, face in the whipping grass, and screamed. Whether in my mind or in front of my eyes, the figure shifted to a place, cold, damp, and coated in despair. In front of his once-gentle features was a pale, violet glow attached to a polished box. He plucked the glow free and devoured it in his darkness, dousing its light.

Words flowed in the chaos.

“What are you doing?”

I knew those voices. Memories of laughter, of a king and queen who treasured each other.

A woman screamed. “Hide them. Go, go. He cannot find theskallkrönor.Not until the return.”

More screams faded into the distance until there was silence. Then, a voice rose in the shadows that broke my soul in two.

“Why are you here?” Kage’s voice was strained. “Destin,stop! She would not want this.”

“Forgive me, Brother. It is the only way.”

Kage’s roars of pain added to my own. I could hear the moment Destin wrapped Kage in the degeneration, robbing him of memories of us, of his family, his true birthright. I screamed into the soil, desperate to reach him, to save him. I could not move.

Shadows thinned, and in the center of the cyclone the figure grew clearer. Destin—though he appeared different, a little older, hair longer, and a thicker beard on his chin—sat in front of a burial stone.

Arabeth.

He mourned her, wept for her loss. He whispered vows of restoring her to a life that ended too soon.

I remembered. I knew him. Destin was not of House Wilder but of House Thornvane, prince consort. The husband to Princess Arabeth.

Like the skydrew in a sharp breath, the darkness was drawn away. The wind ceased.

Silence crushed us all.

Disoriented and weakened, time was strange. I did not know how long I laid in the grass, eyes clenched, breaths heavy, but when I lifted onto my palms, I was not the only one.

Kappi were strewn about the lands like fallen trees, but slowly they were rising. Groans and gasps filled the dawn. Men, women, all rubbed their brows, shook their heads, some vomited up dark, murky fluids, as though purging the darkness that plagued them.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard my name.

Gwyn skidded to a halt at my side, tears in her eyes. “Adira. By the skies, Iknowyou. I remember it all.” Gwyn did not wait to know if I was well or harmed before emotions grew too fierce and she crushed me against her.

As soon as it began, Gwyn released me and shot to her feet. “Sigr! Thyra!”

I drew in a sharp breath. Her brother, her sister. Gwyn had siblings and now I remembered them clearly, as though I’d seen them not more than a day ago. Young enough they were not included in our pasts at the sanctuary, nor at Cy’s wedding.

As if he sensed my thoughts, Cy’s booming voice broke over the field. “Hugo, you bastard.”

Back on his feet, Hugo’s shoulders rose in deep, gulping breaths. His eyes burned and looked nowhere but Cy. They raced for each other. Hugo reached for Cy first, swallowing him up in his long limbs.

Cy gently held the side of his husband’s bruised head, kissing the runes on his throat, his jaw, his lips, as though they would not waste a moment lest they be torn apart again.

Hugo held Cy’s face between his palms. “I always felt something near you.”

“It’d be impossible not to when it is me.”

“You’re still a pompous idiot.”