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I rose with the sun the following morning. In a matter of minutes, I’d dressed, scrubbed my face, and braided my hair back,

and the manor was just beginning to stir. But try as I might, I couldn’t still my nerves or convince myself to stay put. I’d

spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, wondering whether to cure Noam or Nohr first, and settled on Nohr. Then I’d

written a letter explaining the situation and begging him to behave while I recovered. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be out,

and while I knew Orin would look after him, there was no telling what the other family members would do. With his letter in

hand, I exited my room and entered their quarters. I placed it on the nightstand beside them before glancing at their slumbering

forms, and hope swelled in my chest.

“Soon,” I murmured as I rested my hands on their caskets. I couldn’t wait to see their eyes light up again, to hear the timbre

of their voices as they balked at everything that’d happened since they fell ill. My eyes traveled over Nohr’s face before

sliding to his chest. And then I went stock-still.

“Nohr?” I knew he couldn’t hear me, but his name fell from my lips just the same. The blight had increased tenfold in the span of a day, and black veins were wrapping his neck like a stranglehold that threatened to choke him. Fresh pustules had formed and ruptured across his sternum, and there were several places where gaping wounds had carved divots right out of his muscles. Blight birthed from his bones and spilled across his skin in the form of yellow loam and black sludge, and my gut churned at the sight.

I needed to cure him now .

Turning on my heel, I raced from the room and bolted down the stairs. I passed a few wide-eyed attendants who were opening

windows and setting the table for breakfast. Every minute felt like an eternity as I searched for Orin. I ran through the

halls and burst into his study, only to find his chair empty.

“Orin!” I shouted, whirling in place as panic clawed at my throat. Where was he? Why was this happening now?

I sprinted back the way I came until I finally found him in the library with Rorik. They were locked in a low conversation,

each one of them glaring at the other, and they both snapped their gazes to me as I skidded to a halt.

“Edira?” Orin tilted his head to the side. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Nohr. He’s dying.” I didn’t wait to see if he’d follow. I simply took off up the stairs and headed for my brothers’

quarters. Both Orin and Rorik followed, their rushed footsteps pounding against the floor until we all came to a collective

stop inside Noam and Nohr’s room. With a shaky hand, I pointed to Nohr. “Look.”

Orin gently moved me to the side and stood before my brother. He narrowed his eyes as he inspected him from head to toe. Sadness

crept into Orin’s features with every passing breath, and I wanted both to hear him speak and for him to stay silent. Because

in that moment, everything was fine. Manageable. Nohr was alive, and I could cure him. Nohr was still here. Nohr. A quiet,

strangled sob fractured my chest.

Rorik’s hand found the small of my back. “Breathe.”

I wanted to tear that word up and burn it from his mind so he could never speak it again.

But he did, just to spite me. “Breathe, Edira.”

With a shuddering inhale, I did as he said. It did nothing to alleviate the fear gnawing at my gut, but the tingling in my

fingers subsided, if only a little. Pursing my lips together, I forced another deep breath through my nose. The ringing in

my ears dulled. Slowly, I looked up at him. His features were tight, his expression masked. The only thing he couldn’t keep

hidden was the emotion in his eyes. They raged with fear and anger and despair and so many things at once that I wondered

how he kept it all together. How he managed to breathe his way through that kind of maelstrom. Only when his gaze softened

did he pull his hand away. He brought it to his shoulder where Ywena was perched, and she crawled over his fingers. Gingerly,

he brought her to me.

“For comfort, not training.”

I could barely hold back the tears as I welcomed Ywena’s gentle touch. She nestled in the crook of my neck, and something

about her presence grounded me. I was able to wrangle the last of my fear and grip it tight as I waited for Orin to speak.

When he finally turned his attention to us, his gaze slid first to Ywena. Something hardened in his eyes before he met my

stare.

“He’s alive but deteriorating quickly.” Orin gripped the back of his neck. “Edira, I know you want to cure him, but—”

All the panic I’d battled into submission sprang up again, and I took a quick step forward. “No. You have to help me. Get

rid of the barrier.”

“Edira...” He stepped between me and Nohr.

“No!” I shouted, banging my fists against Orin’s chest. “Move! You have to let me try. Let me save him. Do it, Orin, or . . .” My thoughts were wild, my breath hard and fast. Ywena didn’t shock me. At least one Ever here was true to his word. “If they die, the bargain is void. I’ll leave without helping Mavis. Without helping any of you.” The words tasted like ash on my tongue, and my heart revolted at the idea of condemning Orin to death after the day we’d spent tangled in bed. But nothing could keep my anger at bay. He couldn’t stop me, not now. Not when I had a chance. Not when he made me feel whole and important and wanted.

“You heard her, Orin.” Rorik’s voice was dangerous. Low. It was full of heat and threat that matched the fire burning in my

veins, and I was thankful to have Rorik by my side. “Better let her try. It’s peculiar how quickly his condition has worsened.”

Orin spat venom with his response. “Quiet.” Then, to me, much softer and full of remorse: “I can’t let you. Not yet.”

“You promised!” I saw red. It didn’t matter how deeply I’d come to care for him, how kind he’d been to me all this time. If

he didn’t let me cure Nohr, I’d let blight destroy them all. Every last Fernglove.

“Please.” Orin kneeled before me and gripped my hands. It took everything in me not to rip them out of his grasp. “Listen.

I’m not saying you can’t threadmend him. I’ll lift the veil right now if you demand it.”

My breath caught as I clung to his every word.

“But before you try, I want you to be aware of what could happen.” His thumb brushed over the back of my hand. “As Rorik pointed

out, his condition is worse than expected. If I dispel the barrier, there’s no telling how much time you’d have to threadmend

him. Minutes, maybe less. Right now, my magic is still working. He’s not going anywhere today, so long as that barrier remains

intact. Neither of them are.” He dropped his gaze and spoke to the floor. “All I want is for you to cure him. But what if

you’re not ready and he dies? You’ve succeeded on a beast, but never a person. What if it takes more time to remove their

blight? More time than they have to give?”

“I can’t watch them die,” I said, voice cracking.

Orin’s grip tightened a fraction. “If this had been yesterday, even, when he showed some iota of health, I wouldn’t stop you. Because I believe you can do it.”

My throat swelled with emotion as tears lined my eyes. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Perfect the method first. Try it on one of us.” He gestured between himself and Rorik, and the latter raised his brows. “Our

bodies are meant to endure more. We’re not as sick as them or even Mavis. Adjust your technique as many times as you must

in order to get it right. And once you have it, because I know you’ll get there, you can cure Nohr without worry. And Noam.”

My heart thundered in my ears. He was right. I hated that he was, but I couldn’t deny his reasoning, no matter how badly I

wanted to save my brother. I’d believed that I was ready with every fiber of my being, but what evidence did I really have?

Because I’d cured a stag? Noam and Nohr were fragile . So very, very fragile. It was evident in the way the blight was progressing. If they’d been Evers, we would’ve had more

time. If I’d been stronger, it wouldn’t have mattered at all. I would’ve cured them before we ended up here.

I couldn’t give up. Not now. Not yet. Not ever.

“Let me try, then.”

Orin’s face fell. “If you insist.”

“Not on Nohr.” I gave his hands a gentle squeeze. It was the most I could handle after the swing in emotions from rage and

fear to resigned understanding and despair. Hopefully it was enough. He looked up at me, a question burning in his eyes. “On

you.”

“Edira.” He stood and twined our fingers together. “Are you certain?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rorik hadn’t moved from his spot against the wall, but when I turned to glance at him, it was as if a monster had taken his place. Parts of his glamour had slipped away to reveal his ink-black eyes and pointed fangs. His sharpened onyx horns. Before, his arms had hung loosely by his sides; now, there was nothing relaxed about them. I could see every hardened, stiff muscle and practically feel the knots forming beneath the surface of his skin. His hands had curled into white-knuckled fists, and he barely breathed as he glowered at us.

“You can leave,” Orin hissed, drawing me close.

“Not on your life.” Gold flashed through his stare. “Rather, not on hers. She shouldn’t do this.”

“Know your place, brother.” Orin closed the space between them until they were within striking distance of each other. “Unless

you want me to leave you to rot.”

“Better me than her.” Rorik didn’t flinch beneath the weight of Orin’s glare.

“You don’t know what’s best for her.” Orin growled as his own glamour rippled away. But he didn’t stop with revealing only

a few of his features—he let his entire mirage fade. He didn’t care about the blight marring his skin. He didn’t care about

anything other than staring down his brother. His tail unfurled behind him and snapped through the air at the same time his

crown pushed through his forehead. The stench of death and decay filled the small room, but nothing was more suffocating than

the power he displayed. It was nothing like the stardust I’d enjoyed the day before. This was invisible and yet somehow tangible,

a raw current of pure energy that charged the air like the moments before lightning struck.

“And you do?” Rorik leaned into his space. “She wouldn’t be the first—”

Orin struck him hard and fast, and the sound of his fist cracking against Rorik’s cheekbone reverberated against the walls.

I expected Rorik to crumble, but all he did was tip his head back toward his brother with a saccharine smile. Blood gathered

at the corner of his lip, and his tongue darted out to wipe it away. He towered above Orin as he pushed off the wall and bared

his teeth.

“Enough!” I didn’t know where I found the courage to move, but I did. I shoved my way between their bodies and pressed my hands firmly against their chests. At the same time, I uncorked the power dormant in my veins and let it flood outward in a vibrant display of moonlight. It came easily, willingly, as if it sensed the presence of their blight and wanted to rid the space of its infestation. My power gave me strength, and I didn’t budge as I held my ground between Rorik and Orin. Neither one seemed pleased I’d found myself there, but Rorik relented first. His glamour easily slid back into place as he reclined against the wall. The only thing that remained were his endless black eyes that roved over my body.

Finally, Orin stepped back. “I’m sorry, Edira.”

I let my hands fall to my sides, but I didn’t cap my power. Instead, I let it flare with anger. “I don’t know what kind of

history you two have, but this decision is mine .” I shot a glare at Rorik before rounding my gaze on Orin. “I am ready to try. And I’m happy to do it.”

A haughty, satisfied smile claimed Orin’s lips as he looked over my head to gloat at his brother. Fortunately, Rorik didn’t

take the bait. He continued to focus only on me.

“Go on then,” he said, voice surprisingly soft. I hated the way it made me question everything. He motioned for Ywena to join

him, and I tried to ignore the sudden cold her absence invited.

Orin held out his hand to me. “Whenever you’re ready.”

For a long moment, I studied his fingers.

“You won’t be able to see it,” I said as I let my power grow. The life strands wrapping his body uncurled in response, reaching

toward the light. “But if I succeed, you’ll know.”

He nodded, and the all-consuming hunger in his stare sharpened. I understood why it was there—especially after our private

moment together—but something about it unnerved me. I wanted it gone. I wanted his soft smiles and warm looks. His easy laughter,

unbridled by this fear of death. I wanted him to be free.

I beckoned to Orin’s threads with a slight curl of my fingers, and they flew to me with ease. In a matter of seconds, they’d wrapped around my arms, my legs, my stomach. Like before, I took a single thread and began stitching the blight into my body, but the pain was excruciating. I’d been able to tolerate the prick of needles with Zota, but this felt like white-hot blades carving away at my skin. The blight that seeped into my muscles brought with it a horrific sickness that immediately took me to my knees. Pain arced through my limbs, and my body began to tremble. Dots bloomed across my vision. Every breath was a battle, each inhale full of glass and each exhale riddled with salt. I couldn’t stop the burn, couldn’t douse the flames cooking me from the inside out. I bit my lip to hold back a scream and tasted the brackish, coppery tinge of blood.

With what little energy I had left, I focused on one of Orin’s threads. His blight wasn’t just a sickness; it was a starving

beast willing to eat anything and everything in its path. The black tar bubbled and frothed as it oozed from his threads to

my skin. I could’ve been delirious from the pain or perhaps it was magic, but I swore each bubble was a tiny maw with jagged

teeth. As it crawled over my limbs, it tore at my skin. Drank in my blood. Settled in my bones. My light battered relentlessly

against it, but I was drowning in a sea of tar and yellow loam, and nothing was strong enough to pierce it.

I didn’t know where I was anymore, if I’d already died or if I was somewhere in between. The blight was cooking my mind and

my blood, and my vision swam out of focus. There was nothing but the heavy aroma of sour mulch and rotting flesh.

A quiet memory of Alec teased the edge of my thoughts. He’d started to hallucinate when the blight took over, too. Vaguely,

I wondered what I looked like to Rorik and Orin. If I was writhing on the floor, suffering through an invisible pain they

couldn’t abate. Or maybe I’d slipped into a slumber and was completely unreachable.

It was surreal to be lost in blight. At some point, the pain had faded and all I was left with was this unbearable sense of knowing that I was about to meet my end.

A flicker of awareness bloomed from somewhere in the depths of my mind. An itch I couldn’t quite reach. I didn’t know what

it was, but it gave me pause. I shifted and watched as, for the first time, one of my own moonlit life threads appeared before

my eyes. I froze as it drifted like a ribbon in the air, dancing about my body without the weight of blight. I’d never been

able to see my threads before. Was it all a hallucination? An invisible breeze carried it close to my face, and a frayed end

threatened to pull away from the core. With a sudden twist, it splintered off, no larger than a strand of hair but somehow

still bright and resplendent and full of power.

You’re dying. The realization hit me hard as I watched the strand float away. How many of those tiny threads had I shed throughout the

years? How many did I have left? I tried in vain to crane my head and once again glimpse the life threads twirling around

me. But each time I caught sight of their moonlit ends, they’d shift and jerk away out of sight.

The itch in my mind was growing more and more insistent by the second. It wasn’t just an errant thought, but a voice. Someone

calling my name. Someone bringing me back. The fabric of the hallucination trembled as it tried to keep me buried. Blight

surged and frothed around me, pinning my limbs and tipping my head back. I could feel it creeping around the orifices of my

face. My ears. My eyes. My nose.

Breathe. Was that my thought or someone’s shout? They coalesced into one single command that shook the blight’s hold on my mind. Suddenly the pain returned. Horrific, unending agony as sharp as knives cutting away at my organs. And with that, the rest of my senses came flying back. First there was sound. An earsplitting scream that threatened to shatter glass. My scream. And then there was the taste of blood—a mouthful of it—and I gagged as I managed to tilt my head just enough to feel its tacky warmth flood over my cheek. Finally, my vision. Orin’s strand was still stitched into my arm, and I was still siphoning sickness from his body. My gut churned at the sight of only one clear aquamarine thread. I’d hardly taken anything. Rorik and Orin were screaming, though I couldn’t tell what, as they waited on either side of my body. Orin was looking away, yelling at something or someone out of sight. But Rorik looked only at me.

“Edira, stop this,” he said when he noticed my eyes had cracked open. Or maybe they’d never closed. I couldn’t tell. Someone

had dumped sand into them, and every blink was a rough scrape. Still, Rorik realized I was back. Somehow, he knew. His hand

was pressed between my shoulder blades, and I wondered if his command to breathe had returned me to my senses. He’d ingrained

that word into my body with every training session to the point it’d become an intrinsic response. An undeniable order to

catch myself, to assess. I coughed, and another rush of blood flowed from my mouth to coat my blouse. With what little control

I’d salvaged, I shut off my power and watched with relief as Orin’s thread was forcibly thrust from my body.

Rorik’s other hand was on my shoulder, and his grip tightened. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”

I tried to smile and failed. “Liar.”

“Edira!” At the sound of my hoarse voice, Orin rounded on us and quickly pulled me into his lap. “Thank the gods.”

Rorik stared at the space where I used to be in his arms. I’d gotten blood on his hands, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away.

He’d become a statue, and the only movement that came from him was the ragged, uneven rise and fall of his chest.

“Why didn’t you stop sooner?” Orin pressed me close, and my body screamed in pain. I bit my lip and winced.

“I couldn’t.” My head throbbed as the world began to spin. “I couldn’t.” I forced a swallow and then vomited at the overwhelming presence of blood. The sudden retching sent another torturous wave of pain through to my toes. “Vora.”

“She’s already preparing the remedy.” Orin smoothed my hair with a shaky hand. He was covered in remnants of my blood and

vomit, but he didn’t complain. He caged me in his arms and stood without faltering before heading out the door. With my cheek

pressed against his shoulder, I caught one last glimpse of Rorik before we left. He still hadn’t moved.

Orin swept me into my quarters and headed for the bathroom, commanding the bath to fill with his silent magic the moment we

entered. With gentle fingers, he freed me of my clothes and eased me into the copper basin. The once-clear liquid instantly

shifted to something pink and murky.

The world tilted from left to right as I fought against sleep. Even with heavy-lidded eyes, I could still see the more prominent

effects of my failed threadmending attempt. My skin was ashen and peeling in places, and my nails had turned a brittle yellow.

Bruises blossomed across my legs and arms. Somehow, my muscles had lost all definition, and I was nothing but loose skin draped

over bones. It was horrifying, and yet I couldn’t feel any fear. The only sensation that riddled my being was exhaustion.

And gods, did I want to succumb to it. It would be so peaceful...

“Medicine first, then you can sleep.” Orin’s voice shook me, and I startled in the tub. Vora had entered the bathroom at some

point, though she’d froze at the entrance. Her face was parchment pale, her lips parted and eyes wide. She blinked several

times before handing it to Orin, and he pressed a mug of something thick and warm against my lips.

I drank it all.

“Make sure you’ve got her. She’s about to go under.”

With Vora’s words came a beautiful nothingness, and I slipped away to the feel of Orin’s hands sliding beneath my arms.