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Taly couldn’t sleep without Skye beside her. She didn’t know when that had happened.

Even with Calcifer taking up half of it, the bed felt too big without him.

She turned over, pulling the blankets tighter around herself, but they didn’t carry the same warmth, the same comfort.

Kairó vuun’manii?

She clamped her hands over her ears. “No, no, no, not again.”

Kairó vuun’manii.

“Shut up!”

But the words didn’t stop. They never stopped . Since the cistern, there hadn’t been a moment of silence.

Kairó vuun’manii!

With a growl, Taly rolled onto her back, glaring at the dreamspindle on the ceiling.

Skye had taken it down. She’d waited, then put it back up the moment he left.

Not out of fear. Just for the quiet . True to its name, it was excellent at blocking dreams and the terrors that stalked them.

If she could just manage to fall asleep, there would be nothing but endless black.

Calcifer gave a worried mewl from beside her. She reached out to scratch his chin.

Kairó vuun’manii .

Taly let out a harsh, wordless yell and slammed her palms against her ears. But the voice didn’t come from the outside. It was in her head.

“To hell with this.” Giving up on sleep, she kicked off the covers. Calcifer lifted his head, blinking slowly as she shrugged into her coat and shoved her feet into boots, laces be damned.

Out the window. Up the narrow stairs.

The rooftop garden was half-frozen, blanketed in shadow.

She moved with purpose, already locked onto her destination.

Aiden’s box of herbs sat against the far wall—organized, labeled, and carefully tended like the good little healer he was.

The mirthroot was wedged in the back, camouflaged between feverfew and lavender like that was going to fool anyone.

She didn’t ask permission. Not for the mirthroot and not for the pipe she’d found tucked behind the chimney.

Smoke curled from her lips as she sat on the lip of the half-wall that ran the perimeter of the roof. Her legs dangled over the edge.

Ryme stretched below—dark, quiet, and dusted in snow. The townhouse wards blocked the city lights, giving her an uninhibited view of the auroras rippling green and violet across the sky, brushing against the bellies of the migrating luminara as they floated past.

Kairó vuun’manii.

The mirthroot didn’t quiet the whispers, but it did make her care less. So, they got louder. Meaner.

Kairó vuun’manii?

Kairó vuun’manii.

Kair ó vuun’manii—

Kairó vuun’manii!

Another drag, another deep breath of apathy. Let them scream. She wasn’t listening.

Still, just to be certain—she dragged up her sleeve.

Can you read this?

In the dream-state, the brain shut down the processes that made sense of written language. It recognized shapes, impressions. But words? Words dissolved before meaning could form.

Her fingers traced the letters Ivain had inked for her: Can you read this?

Yes, she could. Her eyes closed as she sighed smoke.

Kairó vuun’manii.

She took another drag, forcing back the scream that had been building for days. She just wanted one damn second of peace. Just a breath in this whirlwind of shit where the chaos held steady. Was that really so much to ask?

Calcifer pressed his head against her leg. She didn’t look down, but she felt his eyes on her, the quiet, loyal question behind them: Are you okay?

“Don’t you start,” she muttered, taking another drag. “You’re the emotional support monster, not the intervention squad.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Ugh. You and Skye both—you’re just endless judgment wrapped in fur and pretty cheekbones. Maybe it’s better you don’t get along.”

She climbed up onto the ledge, boots crunching on the frost. The wind caught her coat, tugging like it wanted her to fall.

Kairó vuun’manii.

“Fuck off!” she screamed to the wind. Then let her eyes drift down to the ground so far below.

Taly exhaled and watched the smoke drift upward as snow collected on her lashes.

It was two years ago for her now—only one for the rest of the world.

Just one year in this timeline since she’d stood in this exact spot.

She’d never told Skye, probably never would, about that night, not long after she left home, when she’d come to the townhouse.

The gate was spelled to let her in. She was cold, hungry, scared.

After raiding the pantry, she’d come straight to the roof.

Climbed up on the ledge of it.

And for long moments, just… stared. Contemplating the ground and wondering if she had the courage to take that step.

It’s the right choice , an insidious, little voice inside her had whispered. Her family would be sad, but they would move on. They would forget her and be better off for it

She still wasn’t sure what had made her stumble back. Some small amount of clarity perhaps. Or maybe it was just fear. That primeval spark all species shared that made them want to keep living even when death would be the easier choice.

Kairó vuun’manii.

Kairó vuun’manii.

Kairó vuun’manii…

Taly giggled. Then coughed. Then laughed harder. She threw out her arms and screamed into the storm, “Try harder, bitch!”

A sudden blast of wind slammed into her. She swayed on the ledge, arms windmilling. “Oh, shit—”

Calcifer’s jaws closed around the back of her coat and yanked. She stumbled backward, heart slamming against her ribs.

“Thank you, baby,” she said, slumped against the low stone wall. Calcifer huffed his disapproval. “Yeah, I know.”

She was a mess. She didn’t need him reminding her.

By the time she climbed back through the window, her fingers were numb and the rooftop was dusted in fresh snow. Morning, technically. Or whatever passed for it now.

The day dragged by. She ate what Eliza put in front of her. Glanced at the latest Aion Gate data Skye had forwarded. Nodded at whoever passed.

Kairó vuun’manii.

She avoided the piano. Not because she was unraveling or anything dramatic like that. Just… scrying took focus. Control. And she was running low on both.

The basement, though—that was different. That was definitely her being a coward. She could feel the crown down there, humming with expectation. Anywhere beneath the second floor set her teeth on edge.

That left up as the only way to go. The roof and the pipe and the numbness of the mirthroot. It muted the noise just enough, which meant her thoughts had space to turn.

And, of course, they turned to him.

Skye had seen it too. He hadn’t been able to hear the thing in the cistern, but he’d seen it. Because why not make things worse?

The bond—it let them share dreams. And if he could see the Weave beasts, that meant they could see him too.

Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She was opening him up to dangers he couldn’t even fight back against. Without the ability to untether his soul, he was completely exposed.

Kairó vuun’manii.

The sun never set, but somehow the day still ended.

She still couldn’t sleep.

Kairó vuun’manii.

The next morning, she ate most of what Eliza placed in front of her. She didn’t want to, but she also didn’t want to field their questions. Everyone was already on edge, watching her like she was a bomb ready to explode.

She smiled when she had to. Answered what she could.

By nightfall—whatever that meant these days—her hands were shaking again.

She needed air.

She needed to be numb.

She reached for her coat.

Taly lay on the grass, pipe tucked in one hand, the other resting limp across her stomach. Smoke curled from her lips in slow, steady ribbons.

She didn’t move when footsteps crunched behind her.

“You always did pick the highest ground when you wanted to feel the lowest,” Ivain said dryly.

Taly turned her head just enough to glance at him, eyes half-lidded and glassy. “This is a private pity party, thank you very much.”

He dropped down beside her anyway. “It’s rude to hotbox the garden and not offer to share.”

Her expression flattened. “You’re not going to make me talk about my feelings, are you?”

“I would never,” he said, legs stretched in front of him.

“Right answer.” She passed the pipe.

He accepted it without comment and took a generous, practiced drag.

Taly raised an eyebrow.

He exhaled slow. “What?”

She shook her head. “I just always thought you sprang fully formed from a battlefield with a sword in one hand and a textbook in the other.” She gave him a sideways look. “The mirthroot sort of breaks the illusion.”

Ivain chuckled. “You think I’ve survived this long on clean living? This isn’t my first rooftop.” He took one more pull, exhaled through his nose, and handed the pipe back. “Skye forwarded the last output summary from the Aion Gate. It’s holding steady.”

Taly scooted closer and let her head fall against his thigh. “And the bridging date?”

“Still in Ares,” Ivain said, naming the last month of summer. His fingers drifted through her hair, slow and absent. “I spoke with him on the relay. He and Kato are returning tomorrow with the shift change.”

Taly didn’t say anything, just curled a little tighter. She’d missed the overbearing prick, more than her dignity would allow. “That’s good.”

“He asked about you.”

She exhaled smoke. “And?”

“ And he shouldn’t have to. You’re bonded. You could speak to him directly if you’d just let yourself get some damn sleep.”

Taly sighed. Her head sank heavier against his leg, and he shifted just enough to make space.

“Why are you ignoring him?” Ivain pressed.

Because something was watching her from inside her own head, and if she opened the bond, it would see him too. But she didn’t say that. If Ivain suspected the grimble had a successor, he’d ban her from scrying faster than she could say, “It’s no big deal.”

She cracked an eye open. “You’re very nosy tonight.”

Ivain grinned, planting one hand in the grass behind him. “I come from a family of meddlers. It’s in the blood. And I just want to know what’s going on between you two. As the unwilling go-between, I believe I’ve earned that much.”