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“Are you still hoping to get to my grimoire before I can?” he asks.

I sniff. “Of course not. I’m just here to make sure you don’t destroy my world, and to ensure none of your grimoires end up in Vicana’s hands.”

He shakes his head at my obvious lie but lets it go.

It hasn’t escaped my notice that Calysian hasn’t lost himself this close to the grimoire. The last time he neared one—as we approached the swamp—he became less human, distant, consumed, his mind fixated on his task.

Maybe…maybe as he gets closer to reclaiming his whole soul, he’s able to retain control.

Or maybe I’m just grasping at any hope I can find.

We fall into silence for the rest of the afternoon. Twice, we stop to water the horses and stretch our legs. The sun begins to sink, streaks of gold radiating outward, the sky painted with deep purples and soft pinks. I take it in, watching the wisps of cloud catching the light.

Awareness flutters across my skin, and I find Calysian watching me. “I enjoy seeing this world through your eyes.”

I shrug. “I never truly appreciated it until I was trapped in that tower. Each time my mind cleared and I wasmeagain, I promised myself that when I finally managed to free myself, I would never take that freedom for granted again.”

In the distance, stone towers thrust skyward. The city of Aghalon is an uneven sprawl of slate-gray stone and copper roofs that glimmer like molten metal beneath the setting sun. A thick haze clings to the air above the city, and within minutes I catch the scent of burning wood and charred meat. My stomach rumbles.

As we approach Aghalon, I can see the distant movement of figures atop the city walls. Massive wooden gates loom at the western entrance, and we come across more people—carts loaded with vegetables and grain, carriages filled with nobles hidden behind velvet curtains, the occasional solo traveler making their way home.

My eyes are heavy, and Calysian responds to the questions from the guards at the gate. He leads us past several inns, continuing past a series of taverns and a bustling night market.

The streets become broader, laid with smooth cobblestones that glint in the dim light, free from the thick crust of mud elsewhere in the city. The buildings are tall and elegant—painted in soft creams, pale blues, and the occasional sunny yellow. Wrought iron balconies curl outward from the upper floors, draped with vines that trail lazily toward the street below.

Calysian dismounts outside an inviting inn with walls of worn, honeyed stone. Warm light spills out, and even from here I can hear the faint hum of music, the low murmur of conversation.

“I stayed here once, several years ago,” he murmurs, avoiding my gaze as I dismount. “I thought you might like it.”

Calysian turns the horses over to a stablehand. “Stables are around the back,” the stablehands says cheerfully. “We even have a grazing field.”

It takes me a moment to understand—a moment Calysian uses to take my hand, leading me to the inn’s entrance. He pauses before we walk inside, his mouth taking mine. His kiss is tinged with desperation, and he pulls me close, his arms wrapping tightly around my back.

And then it hits me.

Calysian chose this place as a gift. It’s a place where we will make final memories together before he takes his grimoire.

A gift…and a goodbye.

Madinia

Calysian arranges for our room, sending me occasional concerned glances. The innkeeper leads us upstairs, chattering the entire time, and I nod at the right places, unable to focus on anything she’s saying.

Finally, she beams at Calysian, thrusting out her chest so the candlelight plays across her impressive breasts. “Let me know if there’s anything you need. Anything at all,” she says.

“That will be all.” My voice is cold, and Calysian gives me an amused look as the innkeeper disappears.

“I…I need a few minutes,” I tell him.

He frowns. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No. I just…I need some air.” It’s a terrible excuse considering we’ve been traveling all day, and Calysian’s eyes turn flat.

“Fine.”

I leave him standing in the plush room and hurry downstairs, sucking in deep breaths. My chest is tight, my ears ringing, and I walk aimlessly, until a familiar neighing sound jolts me into awareness.

I’ve made my way behind the inn, near the stables. The grazing field is small but impressive considering we’re in the middle of the city. And yet all of the horses are stabled. I lean on the fence and stare into the inky darkness of the field, my chest tight.