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She isn’t about to let me string too many words together.

Bristara was never the sort to let much slide.

“Even before then. Your obsession with avenging your mother’s death drove you and your sister to risks you should have never taken, and now I see the same drive in you again—a drive that will lead you to danger. A drive that got your sister killed.”

“Don’t you dare.” I’m on my feet, fists clenched.

Bristara doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she locks eyes with me and issues a challenge. “Tell me I’m wrong with a straight face and I will retract my words.”

I open my mouth, and the tiniest scrap of better sense has me shutting it. I fall back into the sofa again with a noise of disgust. Tears of pain, anger, and frustration prick at my eyes. “What would you have had us do? Let her killer walk free?”

“I would have you trust me when I have always told you I am looking out for you. That there are forces at play yet beyond your comprehension. That I want to know who killed her as much as you and Arina do, and if there is a way to find out, and bring them to justice, we will see it through together.”

I very much doubt that. But I don’t say so aloud.

“But throwing faith at the void-born prince is not the path to those truths,” Bristara finishes.

“It’s more than that,” I murmur.

“Oh?” Something about the sound tells me Bristara knows what I’m about to say before I say it. But I speak anyway.

“I— we —have a chance to change the world.” To bring my family back from the dead and fix everything. My wish for the World has doubled tonight. I’m already imagining how I might phrase my wish to ensure I get everything I want.

Bristara goes as still and cold as cast iron. “I said nothing last time, hoping these pursuits would be abandoned. But since they have not, hear and heed me now: Never seek the World.” The words echo Mother’s, and it stills me. “That is a force not meant for mortal hands.”

“You believe in it, then?” I’m somewhat surprised. Bristara doesn’t seem like the sort to believe in folktales, and she had no reaction to it the last time I told the group of the World.

Bristara doesn’t hesitate in the slightest when she says, “It is real.”

“Then we must—”

“Listen to me, Clara. There are things about the tarot you don’t yet know.”

“I know plenty.”

“What the prince has told you of the Majors and the World is only a fraction of the picture.”

“Then tell me everything!” I throw out my arms, pleading. “If you know something, say it, or be silent like before and leave me to do what I think is best.”

“The World is a dangerous power that cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

“Which is why I’m going to take it for myself. I have been to the font; I know what Kaelis will do and am already planning how I might take it from him. I just need to find this vessel before he does. Or be there when he summons the card.”

Bristara goes completely still. A spectrum of emotions runs across her face. Shock, horror, anger, determination. Her voice drops to a hush. “You’ve seen the font.”

“Yes. There I—”

“Then go no further. Do not, under any circumstances, allow the World to be summoned.” There’s a panic underneath her words that deepens my confusion and my curiosity.

“Tell me why I should give up an opportunity to make everything right because you say so. ”

“Because your mother would’ve wanted you to defend the World from that family at all costs.”

Even though I have enough sense still to know she’s right, I’m far too emotional to admit it. “Don’t you dare tell me what my mother would or wouldn’t have wanted.”

Yet, Bristara does so anyway. “Your mother would rather stay dead than risk anyone in the Oricalis family having the means to summon the World.”

I’m on my feet, seething, seeing red. “How dare you.” The words are little more than a whisper. Anything louder and I will be screaming. “ How dare you .”

“Clara, listen to me. Your mother had a reason behind all the warnings she gave. Laylis—”

“Keep her name out of your mouth,” I snarl. “If you wouldn’t do anything you can to bring her or my sister back, then you don’t get to say their names in front of me.”

Bristara sighs heavily and opens her mouth to speak again but is interrupted by the doors opening. Twino stands on the other side.

“We’re ready,” he says solemnly.

I make it a point to be the one to collect Arina’s bones, casting one more harsh look Bristara’s way.

I’m not going to let her turn Arina’s death into an opportunity to preach at me.

To use the loss of my sister and my scattered mental state as an opportunity to twist my arm and force me to do something I don’t want to.

Perhaps she senses that I’m not going to be able to really hear her until the tide of grief has ebbed, because she stands up as well.

I leave the room before she can say anything more.

We all gather outside. The small garden is hardly large enough for all of us to stand shoulder to shoulder, but we cram in. Anger gives way once more to sorrow the moment I see the grave Gregor dug. My stomach is empty yet sick. A lump I can’t swallow sticks in my throat.

Everyone turns their eyes to me, waiting. I grip the bones tighter, quivering. It wasn’t supposed to be like this . I resist the urge to run. As if by not committing her remains to the earth I might be able to bring her back.

Finally, I kneel.

“You’ll always be with us,” Gregor whispers as I settle her bones into the hole. It’s not very deep, though it doesn’t have to be. There’s no rotting flesh for scavengers to take.

“I know roses were her favorite, but all I have that I’m confident replanting is this lily,” Ren says, somewhat apologetically. “I figured it’d be worse if the plant, well, you know…”

Died, we all think at the same time.

“It’s beautiful, I’m sure she’d love it,” I manage to reassure him around the lump in my throat. “She liked all flowers, really.”

Ren settles the plant atop her and holds it in place while Gregor and I push earth around it.

Every shovelful is a muted farewell. When we’re finished, Jura approaches with the pot of tea—now cool—and pours it over the lily.

It eagerly soaks into the ground, as if rushing to quench her thirst one last time.

Our silence is broken by a low, sorrowful note. It’s been a long, long time since I last heard Twino sing. His voice is as beautiful as it is haunting. As deep as our sorrow. As uplifting as Arina’s presence always was.

Jura’s hand slips into mine, and I clutch it tightly. We stand together, hearts aching. One singular goodbye. Something unclenches deep within me. It’s not relief, far from it…

But the coffin is no longer empty. I cover my mouth to catch a howl, hang my head, and finally weep.