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Heather.

“We need to go farther south,” Michal says.

With great difficulty, I close this window too, taking a step backward, then another. I cannot explain the decision, only the frustration gnawing at my chest. The growing weakness of my limbs. How does Deathdothis? How does Filippa? Already, I can feel my connection with the veil slipping. It is too sick, too broken to hold in my hands for long.

Still, an overwhelming sense of jamais vu washes through me as I turn for the fourth and final time, and even before I slide my hand through the pleats, I know this window is the right window. I justknow. Even before I scent the Bluebeard blossoms, the bones, the rotten stench of revenants and ancient earth and Filippa, charred fur—

“Célie!” My mother’s voice fills the grotto, and together, the four of us whirl to find her charging from the washroom—Dimitri trailing helplessly behind—her eyes wide and fixed upon the tear in the veil. “What are you doing? What is that?Whereis that?” Then, incredibly—

“Filippa,” my mother breathes.

Her face drains of all color, and my heart sinks too quickly for my mind to follow. When I follow her gaze, however, there she is: Filippa, just visible in the distance, standing with her back to us as her black hair billows in the evening breeze. She watches calmlyas the ground beneath Mathilde’s cottage convulses violently, as deep cracks appear in its foundation.

At the sight of her, my focus slips, and I blink rapidly, disoriented. Though the tear in the veil remains open, mymothershould not be able to see it—not the tear, not the veil, and certainly not my treacherous sister beyond it. Because Satine Tremblay does not know Death. She is not a Bride, and I am not touching her in any way, which means—

Beyond the tear, a bear roars in unmistakable fury.

Everything happens in quick succession after that: Guinevere hurtles toward D’Artagnan with another shriek, Mathilde’s silver hair flashes through the trees, and—with an almighty groan—half her cottage breaks away from the rest. It crumbles straight into the earth as the forest floor cracks open wide, exposed roots like teeth as they snap and swallow her bedroom whole.

And Filippa—

Filippa staggers on the edge of that abyss.

I do not stop to think. I simplyreact, diving recklessly toward my sister. Michal catches my hand at the last second, however, and a rush of movement sounds behind him. I hear rather than see Odessa seize his wrist; Dimitri lunge forward to catch her elbow. Though my mother cannot move fast enough to catch us, she needn’t touch anyone to see the tear.

No.

Satine Tremblay simply leaps after four vampires, falling headlong through the veil.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Stardust

The next thirty seconds pass in a blur.

The instant our feet touch the forest floor, the revenants nearest us lunge—three of them—but Michal, Odessa, and Dimitri strike first. With brutal efficiency, they tear the revenants’ heads from their bodies, their arms and legs too, before casting the pieces in all directions. There are too many, however, and my sister is rightthere—

D’Artagnan roars again, charging out of sight with Guinevere astride.

“Go,” Michal snarls at his cousins, jerking his chin toward the other revenants. “Scatter them.”

And I understand immediately.Scatter the pieces.We have no time to properly dispatch the revenants now, only to debilitate them, but all of this is secondary. It doesn’t matter; all that matters is my sister, who still stands precariously close to the edge of the world—because itisthe edge of the world. The ground in front of her continues to collapse, crumbling into the black abyss and leaving half of Mathilde’s cottage teetering at its edge.

“Filippa,” our mother breathes.

Too late, I realize my mistake, and a rush of understanding punctures my chest—I never told my mother about Filippa. I nevertoldher that her eldest daughter survived the grave.

With wide eyes, she rushes forward to pull Filippa to safety, but I thrust out an arm to block her path just as the ground lurches to an abrupt standstill. Michal tenses beside us when an unmistakable curse rises from the cottage. And thatvoice—

My stomach clenches with dread.

Resolve hardens in Michal’s gaze as he too recognizes Death, and—before I can say anything,doanything—he charges toward the cottage and vaults across the chasm, landing catlike upon the last remaining doorstep. He kicks the door open swiftly, and panic claws up my throat as he disappears through the debris. Because—no. No, no,no. There is only one reason Michal would confront Death on his own.

Or we could simply kill him.

But Itoldhim—I told him it wouldn’t work, and now—now he’s going to—

My heart plummets to the forest floor.