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I step forward and grab the boys each by a shoulder, bending over to their level. “I’ve got a plan.”

“This one is covered inslime,” Shemai squeals, lurching after a wood frog as it leaps from his hands.

I smirk and hold open a small leather sack for Korvin to drop in his catch. He beams at me and wipes his dirt-stained hands on his trousers.

“You and Rhun really did this to the maevotér?” he asks, his face flushed.

“Well, technically, I caught the frogs, andhedumped them into the cistern.” I laugh. “But yes.”

Shemai runs up the bank of the slough, peering into a gap in his cupped hands. “This frog is huge. It looks pregnant.”

“Frogs don’t get pregnant, morvus.”

I smile inwardly but knock Korvin on the shoulder. “Hey, be nice to your brother. And some actually sort of do.”

Korvin rolls his eyes and slips down the bank to find another specimen.

I carry the sack to a tree and slide down against it.

For a moment, I close my eyes and think back to those years when all we had to worry about when we left the house was carrying a lantern with us. No solas. No ceremonies. Just two brothers and a mysterious kingdom of our own.

This was always the place Rhun and I would escape together when Father was overbearing. Rhun could always tell when his expectations weighed too heavily on my shoulders. He’d catch my eye and give a subtle jolt of the chin that meant to meet him behind the house.

I liked to believe we were the only ones who knew about this hidden slice of calm in the middle of the forest. Sometimes, we’d amuse ourselves by building rafts, other times by hand fishing for huge bottom feeders. We even had our own treetop fortress at one point. I raise my lantern and look up. The platforms are still visible above. I resist the urge to point them out to the boys, because they are probably not safe anymore.

The ache in my chest deepens, but it feels less caustic now that I’ve allowed the grief to flow. This is how I want to remember Rhun. As the brother who knew how to lighten the load of the world and occasionally got me into trouble with our tutor.

I realize now that we made our own light.

As I wipe fresh tears off my face, I wonder why I have never taken Korvin and Shemai here before.

An eerie wailing reverberates through the trunks of the trees and makes the hair on my neck stand on end.

Not again, I say, except the words don’t actually come out.

“What’s that about?” Shemai puffs as he runs over to me, much too excited.

I snatch up the lantern and get to my feet. “Don’t know,” I say, then call for Korvin. He stares down at his cupped hands, shrugs, and releases the fortunate amphibian.

“We should hurry.”

Korvin catches up to us, and I hand him the squirming bag. We head back toward Utsanek, following the direction of the hunting call.

Can there already be another sola? I swallow hard to try to convince my stomach not to eject its contents. Shemai runs ahead, eager to find what all the commotion is about, but Korvin hangs back with me. He wears a familiar expression of concern.

“What are they like?” he asks quietly.

I look at him as we walk. “What are what like?”

He twists the mouth of the sack in his hands. “The solas.”

I don’t want to talk about this, I think. But I’m done with avoiding the hard stuff.

“I’ve only seen one, but it was ... beautiful.” I shrug. There isn’t another word for it.

“Are they dangerous?”

My brow furrows as I ponder. The one I shot had seemed so gentle. So ... intelligent. I try to shake the image of its eyes boring into mine.