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In the end, it wasn’t Skye who ruined Taly’s plans. Kalahad never woke from the healing sleep, and that changed everything.

Aiden didn’t give a reason why. He handed the news off to Skye to give to Taly as if it were a ticking bomb, fully aware of the explosion it would cause—the coward.

It was almost sunset—or what counted for sunset during the Long Night. Lanterns strung from lampposts, cottage eaves, and shimmering wires laced between buildings began to dim, their warm glow fading.

Villagers paused in their activities, watching the change.

It began in the central square, where the largest lantern, hanging from a tall, intricately carved wooden post, kicked off the change. It flickered once, then, with a soft hum, turned from a vibrant gold to a deep blue.

The shift rippled outward, cascading through the village as each lantern followed in perfect sequence. One by one, their golden glow cooled to a serene twilight, bathing the village in a soft, calming azure.

“I guess Solnar can be kind of pretty,” Skye conceded, one arm looped around Taly’s shoulders. She fit against him perfectly, like she always had. “If you’re into glowing lanterns and pretty light shows or whatever…”

Taly didn’t respond, just pulled her coat tighter. He’d told her about Kalahad. It went about as well as anyone could expect. Then her anger had burned itself out, leaving something more brittle in its place.

Skye knew she wanted to find Aneirin, or Bill, or whatever they were calling him now.

In the same way he knew she felt responsible, as if being the only one to talk to him made it her duty to bring him in.

Gifts came to the townhouse now almost daily, and he knew they frightened her, even if she wouldn’t say it. They frightened him.

On her shoulder, Calcifer huddled beneath her hood, which was pulled low to keep the rain off her face.

Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her lips pressed into a frown.

He had a flash of memory from the previous day, of that pale pink mouth quirking as she pushed him into a closet intent on ruining him.

That was how it should’ve been. Her, smiling. Not bracing for the next hit.

At home, she aimed straight for the piano to scry. Skye nudged her towards the dining room instead. She’d scry all night if he let her, ignoring food and sleep like they were optional.

After dinner, they settled in the music room. Even with the world gone mad, Sarina still insisted on family time.

“Shit,” Ivain slurred, blearily squinting at the board in front of him. He looked very undignified with his tie loose around his neck, his shirt unbuttoned, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees with both hands steepled.

He and Skye were on their second game of “better chess” for the evening, a little something that had found its way into being years ago when Taly had grown bored of regular chess.

The rules were ever-evolving, though in its simplest form, the pieces were replaced with shots of liquor, queens could resurrect with a small payment to the weapons vendor, and the pawns came with a dice roll that had the potential to clear all surrounding squares. “I think I’m losing…”

“No, you’re winning,” Skye grumbled. “You just keep taking nips from the bottle.”

A bottle of very rare, very expensive Arendryl brandy.

Taly had unearthed it from behind a book in the library—this time, it was The Complete Guide to Boring Legal Precedents.

Ivain’s hiding spots had improved over the years, but Taly still outmatched him.

It was in her blood, Skye decided. Had to be.

The Venwraiths were famous for two things: charm and liquor. Maybe the latter came as instinct.

The woman in question was seated at the piano, teasing out a slow tune. She’d swept the first two rounds of better chess. After that, Skye figured it was only fair to let her go scry.

Her hands moved instinctively over the keys. Her eyes were closed. A slight frown marred her brow. The melody was light, unhurried—the kind of tune she used to play every night after dinner.

It struck him, just how much he’d missed this.

It felt like the before times—Sarina dozing on the couch, the mimic cradled in her arms and snoring; Ivain studying the board in front of him like it was some kind of championship game.

It felt almost normal. Like the years hadn’t passed. Like Taly had never left.

Ivain put down his piece—a green shot glass with a leaf motif. A bishop.

“Sorcerer’s check,” Skye said.

“What the blast does that mean?”

“It means your bishop, which is equipped with a magical upgrade—the coin on top gives you a double move boost—just moved behind enemy territory. You have to flip the coin and take a hit to your movement speed instead.”

Ivain scowled. “I do not, for the life of me, understand this overcomplicated nonsense.”

Skye could only shrug. Better chess was Taly’s brainchild. He’d have to take it up with her. “Oh, and you have to take a shot.”

“At least, there’s that,” Ivain muttered, pouring himself a drink. That he sipped. Arendryl brandy was too expensive to be knocked back.

A door from somewhere in the house opened and closed. A few moments later, Aiden appeared, looking exhausted and haggard. He dropped his bag and fell into a chair, one arm flung over his eyes.

“I thought you had a shift tonight,” Skye said.

Aiden only held up a finger. As if to give him a moment. “Uncle, are you sober?”

Ivain stared at the bottle, then his glass. “No.”

“Good. Pour me a drink.”

Ivain did so, making it a double. Aiden looked like he needed it. Instead of sipping, he slammed it. It was amazing Taly didn’t open her eyes just to tell him off for wasting good liquor.

“We couldn’t bring him out of it,” Aiden said, holding his glass out for a refill.

“Bring who out of what?” Skye asked.

“Kalahad. We couldn’t bring him out of the healing sleep.”

Ivain frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Healing sleep is supposed to be restorative, not… permanent.”

“Do you think someone’s keeping him asleep on purpose?” Skye asked. Someone who maybe didn’t want them questioning him.

“Maybe? I don’t know.” Aiden pressed his fingers to his eyes like he could massage the exhaustion away.

“There were no signs of foreign magic. All I could find were some peculiarities in his blood analysis. Despite how much we keep pumping into him, he’s still depleted of aether, and his thaumic sediment levels keep rising. ”

“What does that mean?” Ivain asked.

“It means he’s got aether poisoning,” Aiden said plainly.

“But I thought you said he wasn’t poisoned,” Skye pointed out.

“He wasn’t. That’s the troubling part. This isn’t a normal toxin. The thaumic sediment is a byproduct, yes. But it’s not from an external source. It’s from inside. Something is attacking his aetherocytes and breaking them down into waste—into sediment. It’s like his body is turning against itself.”

Aiden turned the empty whiskey glass in his hands, his voice low. “I’ve seen something like this recently.” A pause. A slight furrow of his brow. “Not in Fey.”

He exhaled slowly, as if piecing the thought together as he spoke. “The disease that’s spreading through the human population—it attacks red blood cells. They end up with iron overload. It builds up, damaging their organs. Just like the thaumic sediment in Kalahad’s blood.”

His fingers tapped against the glass. “I think… I think we might be dealing with the same illness. One that goes after the blood’s ability to carry oxygen.”

Silence fell as the information settled over the room. It left a void—a moment where the world stopped making sense.

“Wait…” Ivain said, blinking like he was trying to sober up. “Are you saying…”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Aiden regarded them grimly. “The Shaking Fever—it jumped.”

Skye shook his head. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fey don’t get sick.”

“I know. Believe me, I know, and I can’t understand it. I can only tell you what the data says.”

“How many people know?” Ivain asked.

“No one outside this room,” Aiden said. “So far. But I don’t know how long we can keep this quiet. If the fever really has jumped, he won’t be the last. This disease, it’s… aggressive .”

“People will panic.” Skye could already see it. And once fear took over, things would get ugly fast.

Ivain’s face darkened. His eyes, no longer bright from the alcohol, held only a solemn weight.

“We can’t let this information spread. Not until we know exactly what we’re dealing with—until we’re sure it’s a cross-species contagion.

Aiden, I want you to notify the other healers and menders, discreetly . Meanwhile, I’ll—”

A sudden, discordant jolt of keys cut through the room, snapping his words in half.

Every eye in the room followed the sound, to Taly, still at the piano.

There was a pause—a strange stillness about her. She almost seemed to… sway.

Then came the dull, muted thud as her body slumped to the floor.