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The next two days passed in silence.

Not literal silence. There were words. Pass-the-salt, close-the-window, I’m-going-upstairs kind of words.

But the things that mattered—the grimble, the monster in the cistern, the fact that Taly threw herself headlong into danger yet again… Those remained untouched.

Skye kept thinking he’d say something. That she would. But they didn’t.

Beneath a heavy cover of clouds, the procession of horses pushed through the dark of the Long Night, crossing the sharp line that separated dense forest from stark wasteland. In the distance, the Aion Gate glowed like a beacon, the aurora lights flickering behind it.

Skye dusted snow off the hood of his fur-lined cloak, his breath clouding in front of him as he dismounted and led his horse forward through the piles of scrap spreading out from the base of the Gate.

They had departed that morning, leaving behind the town and the safety of the walls to ride north through a light flurry of snow.

The roads were as bad as he remembered and even harder on the horses’ feet coated with ice.

But it was a short ride, half a day at most, and their guide was knowledgeable.

He assured them that despite the bitter cold, the snowfall worked in their favor, muffling the sound of their passage and covering their tracks.

There were twelve in their party, along with a wagon of supplies, fresh mounts, and six more suits of Mechanica to add to the ten already in rotation.

With the island under siege, securing the Aion Gate had been one of Ivain’s first priorities.

They maintained a permanent presence of no less than 100 mages at any given time.

Shelters leaned against the sturdiest scrap piles, the rest stacked into a crude barricade.

The fire mages had no doubt done the welding.

Campfires blazed brightly, smoke hazing the air, and the smell of hot stew drifted towards them as two shadow mages heaved back the gate of the barricade with a screech of metal, allowing them to pass.

They would be stationed here for the next three days before returning with the shift change.

While Skye handled crystal maintenance, Kato would be taking point on the Mechanica.

The tech was ancient, the machinery constantly breaking down.

Skye could manage simple fixes, but Kato had worked alongside their grandfather for decades.

He could build one from the ground up—which was good, since that’s exactly what most of them had needed.

“We haven’t seen shades,” Torin, a gruff and lean fire mage with a long black beard, said as Skye dropped his gear inside the shelter he would be sharing with his brother. “Harpies, though…”

“Oh, I know all about harpies,” Skye muttered. “My last run-in was right around here.”

It had only been a handful of months ago, though it felt like longer. Another lifetime almost. When Aimee knocked Taly to the ground, and the harpy took her. He could still see it—the rake of talons down her back , the spray of blood, the moment those wings caught the wind and lifted her up.

He hadn’t moved fast enough—could only watch as it carried her away, her body twisting in its grip, blood trailing in the air like a ribbon. She faded into the distance, became a blur, then a flicker… and then nothing.

Skye inhaled through his nose. Let it out slowly. He pushed the memory back down where it belonged.

Kato was watching him from where he already had his toolkit laid out on the small table. “Well, the Mechanica should help with the harpies,” he said to Torin. “Those overgrown featherbrains have tough skin, but they’re no match for a Mark III fire cannon. Anything else to report?”

“The mages are restless,” Torin said. “But that’s natural. Most of them have never seen a Long Night. It makes them nervous.”

“And how many volunteers do we have for Mechanica training?”

“Oh, more than you’ve got suits for certain.”

Kato nodded. “Good. Get them lined up. I’ll be out in a moment.”

Torin crossed an arm to his chest, pounded his fist twice, and then he was gone.

Kato returned to his tools, but his gaze lingered, catching the stiffness in Skye’s shoulders that hadn’t eased all morning. “You okay?”

“Fine.” But the word came out clipped. Skye had hoped the ride would burn it out of him—that restless edge he couldn’t seem to shake. But this place… there were too many bad memories.

Finding the buckles and clasps, he stripped his armor, dropping it in a pile. He yanked his dust and sweat-stained shirt over his head, pulling a clean one from his pack.

“I’m surprised you came,” Kato said, still watching him. “You know, just with everything…”

Skye huffed a laugh. “Everything,” he echoed. It was too small a word to cover the mess of the last few weeks. “Someone needed to handle the data transfer,” he said, tucking in his shirt.

“I’m pretty sure I could’ve figured it out.”

Skye didn’t answer, only buckled on his tool belt before kneeling to rummage through his pack.

“Hey.” Kato caught his arm. “Will you take a minute to breathe? I can hear you grinding your teeth.”

Skye ripped his arm away. Kato trying to comfort him felt… unnatural. Like watching a cat trying to walk on its hind legs.

“Look,” Kato went on, un-fazed. “All I’m saying is that no one would’ve blamed you if you wanted to stay close to her. I wasn’t there, but grimy sewer beasts handing out royal accessories isn’t exactly routine.”

Skye’s mouth twisted, humorless. “Except she doesn’t want me there. That’s the part you’re missing. Taly won’t even look at me right now.”

Kato grimaced. “I take it she didn’t take the bloodcrafting news well then? Even with you riding in on your morally ambiguous high horse?”

A short, sharp breath. “I never got the chance to tell her.”

“What’s wrong with her then?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Skye muttered, still tearing through his pack.

“She won’t tell me a Shards-damned thing.

And it’s—it’s not like I’ve been hovering, or asking for anything, or standing in her way.

I’ve done everything right. I’ve kept my distance.

I haven’t pushed. And somehow that just makes it worse. ”

With a growl, he tossed the damned bag to the floor and rubbed at his eyes.

It wasn’t anything new. Just more of the same. The same distance. The same way she always shut down when things got too big, too fast. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t killing him.

She hadn’t said a word about the cistern—just brushed it off like it was nothing. Like the monster in the dark, the crown glowing at its feet, hadn’t looked right at her. Hadn’t looked at him .

Ivain had assured him that it wasn’t a predator like the grimble. More a creature of opportunity, he’d called it—something that saw a chance, took it, and now that it had failed, wouldn’t try again.

By all accounts, it was over. Taly was safe from Weave beasts—for the moment. Skye tried to believe it. Maybe he would’ve if she didn’t keep glancing over her shoulder when no one was there.

“I’m tired, Kato,” he said, voice flat with the weight of it.

“I’m so fucking tired of watching her come apart and pretending I don’t see it.

Like it’s not painfully obvious. She hasn’t gone near the piano.

Not once. And that was supposed to be the point, wasn’t it?

All that bullshit, everything she did to get her power back, and she won’t even—”

He cut himself off with a low growl, jaw clenched. “Sorry. I’ve seen her dig in before, but this… this feels different.”

She was jumpy. Fractured. She could barely meet his eyes—or anyone’s.

“I see her on the roof a lot,” Kato offered.

“Yeah, that’s where Aiden keeps his mirthroot stash.” Which, if Skye had a choice in the matter, he preferred over some of her other escapes. Mirthroot made her quiet. Whiskey made her dangerous—and not in the good way. “Did you know she has a tattoo now?”

Kato shrugged. “Everyone has tattoos.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t. And now she does. Can you read this? ”

Kato blinked. “Is this a segue, or a concussion?”

“No, that’s what it says. On her arm. ‘Can you read this?’ ”

“Wait—seriously?” Kato raised an eyebrow, clearly grasping for something else to say before settling on, “Well, I think it’s great she’s taking such an interest in Ryme’s literacy rate.”

Skye scowled at him. “That’s helpful. Thanks for that.”

He shoved himself up from the cot and stalked toward the tent flap.

“Hey.”

Skye turned, waiting.

Once more, the cat lifted onto its hind legs, wobbling in quiet defiance of the natural order. “I’m here… if you want to talk or whatever. Not that I’m great at it, obviously. But, well… the offer stands.”

It was all wrong. Cats doing circus tricks, Kato handing out empathy.

“Uh… yeah,” Skye muttered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then he left, ducking out of the tent, before the cat figured out how to do backflips.

A handful of miles north of the Aion Gate, the land gave way to sheer, jagged cliffs and dark, endless ocean.

The beach was a black scar against the white froth of water, littered with pieces of driftwood and the occasional shard of crystal washed up from one of the lost underwater Gates.

In the distance, their jagged remains speared from the surface of the water, reaching toward uneven summits that scratched the night sky.

The first moon was a dark blot on the horizon, but with the aurora lights shining bright—and a bit of aether to enhance his night vision—Skye had no trouble spotting the black stones that marked the hidden cave entrance.

Magic made his skin prickle as he stepped through what only looked like solid rock.

He was immediately engulfed by the low hum of machinery buzzing in the air.

The walls were too smooth to be natural, and the air smelled musty.

Firelamps flickered to life as he navigated the long, narrow passage, traveling back to where the crystal panes of the Aion Gate cut through from the ground above.