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With that, he’s gone.

Taking a moment to remind myself what I’m supposed to be doing and swallow back emotions I don’t have names for, I pull out the scrap of paper Amyrah gave me. Just one more thing to do, then we can get out of here. I flatten it against my chest with one hand and hold it up to read the directions.

But before I can, a roar—this time not from human lungs—shakes the stillness of the night.

Panic possesses me. It’s coming from the direction of Amyrah’s cottage.

In what feels like only a few breaths, I tear through Utsanek and down the wooded path, not bothering to bang on the door before I burst inside.

It is empty.

46. Amyrah

AMYRAH

I SLIP MY HAND INTO MY POCKET and rub the thick paper between my fingers. I only read it once, but I know it by heart.

My daughter,

There is so much I should have told you, but I do not have time to write it all now. The Vale grows restless, and you should know two things before it is too late.

First, your mother is not from here. She came from the city of Ketsé, which lies on the north side of the Askonnet Mountains. If you follow the stream that runs past our house, it will lead you to a safe passage through them.

And the second is this: I love you.

I drag in a breath of cool air and swallow down the lump that squeezes my throat.

Belwyn didn’t see me grab the letter from the mantle while he built a fire. I don’t know why I hid it from him, but once I had read it after he left, I was glad.

Pinching my lips together, I steer my thoughts away from how his breaths sent shivers racing down my spine. Or the way that once his arms were around me, I never wanted them to let me go. A dull ache spreads somewhere in the region of my heart.

The familiarity our souls shared in that moment ... the final three words I will ever have from my father ... Both are compelling reasons for me to be out here on my own, running into the night with nothing more than a cloak on my back and an old book weighing down my bag.

I can’t afford to lose anyone else.

As I stop to catch my breath and adjust the strap of my bag, a terrifying sound wakes the birds and sends them squawking to the skies.

My fingers go numb as the memory of the kaligorven converging on my father is triggered. A strangled yelp lurches from me as the last image of his face swims before my eyes. His tawny hair falling over his forehead. His brows pressed together, that single crease between them standing out in bold relief as his palms made contact with my ribs.

Falling to my knees, I gasp and rub the place where I can still feel the impact of his hands.

Get up.

The sound rings out again. A roar.

Shaking uncontrollably, I claw through the damp grass along the water’s edge, unable to bring my limbs under control.

Get up.

But I can’t. There is no strength left in my frame. It disappeared the moment my father shoved me off the platform. I used every scrap I had left pretending I was fine for Belwyn’s sake.

Get. Up.

As another roar echoes through the night, I drag myself to the skeleton of a fallen tree and rest my head against it, exhausted. The smell of rotting wood washes over me.

Who was I to think I could be the one to break the ténesomni? Elyon may have given me a gift, but it is no match for the festering evil that lingers where darkness dwells.

At least, if this is where I meet my end, no one else will see it.