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N ight had fallen and still Cora and her unwanted companions continued to walk. Her legs ached with fatigue, her neck stiff from trying so hard not to jostle her collar. She’d lost all sense of time, but surely they’d been walking for at least half a day now. Under normal circumstances, a lengthy walk was no problem. She’d traveled on foot plenty during her time stalking Morkai’s hunters with Valorre. But this was different. This was walking without rest. Without food. Without any sense of how near or far they were in relation to their destination.

At least the dying landscape of the Blight made for very few obstacles to navigate, but that was of little comfort with the exhaustion that tugged at her bones. She wasn’t certain how much time had passed since she’d left Ridine, but she knew she’d been awake for far too long. Thankfully, Etrix had offered her a skin of water—which had been the sweetest, most refreshing water she’d ever tasted—but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go on that alone.

“Can we rest?” she ground out for what felt like the hundredth time.

“No,” Fanon said from up ahead. Not once had he fallen back from his position several yards in front of her.

“Then can I ride? If I can just get on Valorre’s back, we can travel much faster.” She kept her tone pleading and pathetic to hide the truth; if she mounted Valorre, she could outpace all of them and give her and the unicorn a chance to escape through the Veil on their own. If there was a way through, that is.

Fanon glowered over his shoulder. It carried the depth of his ire even with the nighttime shadows muting her vision. “I think not, human.”

“I have a name,” she said. “It’s Cora, not human .”

Fanon had nothing to say to that and simply increased his pace.

“You must forgive Fanon,” Etrix said. Both he and Garot strolled at her side. As annoyed as she was with her captors, having the two close by was some comfort. The Blight was an eerie place. Too vast. Too empty. Too quiet. She constantly expected some faerytale creature to leap from the shadows with pointed fangs and threaten to claw out her eyes. Or perhaps a return of that enormous dragon. Now and then she was certain she could hear its screech in the distance, and she hadn’t forgotten what Etrix had said about the dragons chasing unicorns. Thankfully, she’d seen no such creature. In fact, she hadn’t seen a single soul aside from her companions since they’d passed the group of Faeryn.

Etrix spoke again. “Acting as Steward of El’Ara is a great burden to bear.”

The way Etrix had said steward made her think the title was one of respect, and far higher in rank than a castle steward like Master Arther. She frowned at Fanon’s back. He held a position of power?

“He’s no Morkara.” A note of sorrow crept into his voice. “We haven’t had a true Morkara in a very long time.”

The unknown word piqued her curiosity, and she debated asking what it meant. The mor portion meant magic, of course, but what about kara ? It sounded too much like Morkai or Morkaius to ignore. While she’d kept quiet during most of their walk, focusing only on thoughts of getting home, it occurred to her that her companions might hold vital information about her enemy. Morkai had claimed to be an Elvyn prince, after all. Still, she didn’t dare bring him up directly. For all she knew, these three could be the lost prince’s most fervent supporters. But she could mine them for knowledge just the same.

“What is a Morkara?” she asked Etrix.

“Morkara is much like a steward, but the burden is given by blood, birth, and mora . They hold the highest position in El’Ara and are responsible for directing the flow of mora through our entire world. Satsara was the last Morkara we’ve had, but she died about seventy-five years ago. Fanon has been acting as steward in her place ever since.”

“What happened to Satsara?”

A flicker of emotion passed over Etrix’s face before he steeled it behind a stoic mask. “Your kind found its way to El’Ara. A human. A worldwalker.”

“Oh, let me tell the rest,” Garot said, stepping closer to Cora’s other side. “You’re terrible at telling stories.”

“This isn’t a story , Garot. It’s a dark blot in our world’s history. Why would you relish telling such a tale?”

Fanon glanced over his shoulder with another scowl. “Why are you bothering to talk with the human at all?”

“I thought she should know the deeds her kind are responsible for,” Garot said, but when Fanon faced forward again, he gave Cora an exaggerated wink. She was starting to like the copper-haired Elvyn more and more. Where at first she’d been annoyed by his arrogant amusement over her plight, she’d come to realize his demeanor at least lacked cruelty.

“Fine,” Fanon said with a grunt. “Make sure she understands her people’s darkest deeds, not just the parts you like to talk about.”

Garot puffed his chest and stood tall, and his tone took on the same whimsical quality it had when she’d asked about the Veil. “Morkara Satsara’s reign was still new when she met Prince Tristaine, a human lost in El’Ara. He was more than a human, though. More than a prince. He had human magic. A witch, I think your kind call them. And this witch had one of the most dangerous powers we’d ever heard of. One that allowed him to travel anywhere in the blink of an eye.”

Cora bristled at hearing him describe a type of magic she held. One the Elvyn considered dangerous. She briefly met Valorre’s gaze. Do you know of this tale? Is that why you told me to lie?

No. Still don’t remember .

Garot continued. “Rumors tell that Prince Tristaine had used scent-based magic to travel. That was how he’d found El’Ara. On Samhain—the day when the barriers between all worlds are at their thinnest—he caught a smell he’d never experienced before and followed it with his magic. That was how he’d crossed worlds for the first time and found himself suddenly in El’Ara. After that, he needed only to recall the scent to return. If you haven’t already gleaned, he had the power of a worldwalker.”

She gave a sharp nod. His words confirmed everything she’d suspected; a worldwalker was a witch who could astral travel. Not only that, but it sounded like this Prince Tristaine had used clairalience—clear smelling—to do so. Where Cora needed emotion to travel, this worldwalker needed scent.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Garot,” Etrix said, a note of fatigue in his voice.

“Ah, you’re right. I was telling you how Satsara first met Tristaine. To explain their first meeting, I must mention the triggers we have woven throughout our land. They alert the Morkara—or the steward, in today’s case—of non-fae intruders. On that Samhain eve, when Tristaine first entered El’Ara, a trigger went off and alerted Satsara. As a wardweaver, she took it upon herself to banish the intruder personally. Instead, she met him and fell in love. She didn’t weave a ward around the prince to banish him like she was supposed to. No, she wove a secret ward in a forest alcove where she and the prince could meet again. They began an affair, and it continued well after she was forced to marry her Elvyn consort. Satsara eventually found herself the bearer of the human’s child. Upon the child's birth, Satsara could no longer keep her secret. She confessed about her human lover to her consort and her tribunal. All agreed that she must banish Tristaine once and for all. So, finally, she met him one last time and wove a ward around his body that would keep him from ever entering El’Ara again. The child, on the other hand, was permitted to remain.”

“A mistake,” Etrix said. Cora glanced at the dark-haired fae and was surprised to see the deep furrow in his brow, the distant look in his ruby-brown eyes.

“A very grave mistake,” Garot agreed. “This half-witch, half-Elvyn child named Darius grew up alongside his Elvyn sister, Ailan.”

Cora tried not to let her surprise show at the name Darius. When she’d brought news of Morkai to the Forest People, they’d told her about the Morkaius, a man they’d called the Blood of Darius. She’d never learned who Darius had been, or if he perhaps was Morkai himself.

Garot continued. “Despite Darius’ tainted blood, Satsara loved him deeply. It caused her great strife when it came time to name her heir.”

“The eldest child of the Morkara is always named heir by blood right,” Etrix said, “but as Darius was half human, the tribunal encouraged Satsara to choose the younger, pureblood child.”

Garot nodded. “As Darius grew, the wisdom of the tribunal became harder to ignore. The boy was tainted with his father’s dark magic. He could worldwalk, just like his father could, and left time and again to the human world. Satsara and her tribunal feared he’d use his power for ill, should he be made Morkara. Eventually, Ailan was named heir instead. In a violent scheme of revenge, Darius tricked Satsara’s dragon, Berolla, into wounding his sister, which confirmed everyone’s fears about him.”

“Berolla?” Cora echoed. She’d heard that name in stories. Faerytales told of a legendary fae queen and her faithful dragon. Even Teryn knew the tale, for he’d named his falcon after her.

“Every Morkara is bonded to a dragon,” Garot said, “and Berolla was Satsara’s bonded companion. Berolla hadn’t meant to hurt Ailan, and Darius’ cruel trick nearly ended his sister’s life. Because of that, Satsara had no choice but to banish Darius. She had to use the very same wardweaving she’d used on his father years before.”

She furrowed her brow. “How many kinds of weavers are there? And what exactly does each power do?”

“There are many,” Garot said. “More than I can name. But I’ll give you a few examples. As I’ve said, Satsara was a wardweaver, which meant she specialized in creating barriers infused with a protective purpose. As a pathweaver, I manipulate distance for fast travel. Etrix here is a speechweaver, and he specializes in translation. And Fanon is a skyweaver, which allows him to give shape, form, and pressure to air.”

She supposed that accounted for her invisible restraints. A question burned the back of her throat. Her heart hammered as she prepared to voice it. “Is there such a thing as a fateweaver? Or a bloodweaver?”

Garot arched a copper brow. “We have skinweavers who specialize in healing, if that is what you mean by bloodweaver. And we have truthweavers who seek out hidden knowledge about the past, present, and future. Is that what you mean by fateweaver?”

“Not exactly,” she said, keeping her tone nonchalant. “Is there any kind of weaver who can change or control another’s fate?”

“The Elvyn do nothing of that sort,” Etrix said, voice brimming with reproach. “Our magic is neither invasive nor harmful.”

She couldn’t help but give him a pointed look. If she could move her arms, she’d gesture toward the collar.

Etrix, however, seemed to understand. He gave her an apologetic nod. “Not unless it is out of protection. Like what we’re doing to you now. Or like what Satsara did to Darius.”

“What she did to Darius was essential indeed,” Garot said. “If only her attempt had succeeded. But as she’d begun to weave the ward around her son, Darius realized what was happening. With the power of the worldwalker, he disappeared into the human world before the weaving could take hold.”

“Only to return many years later to kill his mother and destroy the balance of El’Ara.” Etrix’s words came out in a rush.

Garot frowned at him. “That’s a terrible way to end the story.”

Etrix’s throat bobbed before he spoke. “We’re here.”

Cora looked straight ahead. With the night so dark and the landscape so gnarled and colorless, it took her a moment to see what he was referring to. Then she saw it, a wall of mist and shadow on the horizon. No, it was nearer than that, stretching out from side to side and swallowing the sky above. She shuddered at the sight. “That’s the Veil?”

“Yes,” Etrix said. “Though it looks like a sheet of dark mist, it is as impenetrable as a wall.”

“What happens now?”

Fanon finally came to a halt and turned to face them. “Now we inspect the Veil and see if it’s truly been torn. If it has, and we can surmise that you entered on accident with the unicorn, we’ll let you go. If the Veil is torn, you’ll be the least of our worries. We’ll have war on our hands in a matter of weeks, if not days.”

“That’s a pessimistic take,” Garot said with a sideways grin. “You’ve heard the whispers of the truthweavers. The Veil will only tear when our Morkara returns. If it has been torn, Ailan could be back.”

Fanon clenched his jaw. “If Ailan was going to return, she would have done it ages ago.”

Garot shrugged. “It’s only been seventy-five years.”

“Here, yes, but it’s been closer to five hundred years for her. Time passes faster in the human realm. If she were able to return at all, she would have by now.”

“We don’t know what she’s been dealing with in the human world all this time.”

“She might not even be alive.”

“Are you so afraid of hope, Fanon?”

“I’m not afraid…”

The two Elvyn continued to argue, but Cora’s mind remained stuck on what Garot had said about the passage of time. Her heart leaped into her throat, sending a question surging from her lips, her tone frantic. “What do you mean time passes faster in the human realm?”

Fanon and Garot ceased their argument, but it was Etrix who answered. “Our two realms experience time differently, in both tangible and intangible ways. We have no exact calculation, but past events have suggested that one day here is equal to approximately one week in the human realm.”

A wave of dizziness tore through her, almost strong enough to make her knees buckle. “You’re telling me,” she said, voice trembling, “that in the time I’ve been here, walking through the woods and the Blight, watching day turn to night, everyone I know and love has already lived through several days in my absence.”

Etrix had the decency to don a sympathetic frown, but Garot only grinned as he said, “Precisely.”

This time Cora’s knees truly did give out. They crashed into the soft, decaying soil. She sat back on her heels to keep herself from falling forward. “I have to get home,” she whispered. Then louder. “I have to get home now !”

Fanon sneered at her. “Is that not why we’re at the Veil? Like I said, if there’s a tear in the Veil, we’ll send you home.”

She shifted her jaw side to side, burning him with a glare. “And if there isn’t?”

His lips curled into a cruel smile. “Then I suppose that would make you a liar.”

Mother Goddess, she hoped there really was a tear. Hoped there was a way to cross through. And if not, then she had to find a way to free her hands from Fanon’s bonds and remove the collar, all without using her magic.

She glanced at Valorre.

We go , he said.

She gave him a subtle nod, understanding what his clipped words were meant to convey. No matter what it took, no matter what they had to do, she and Valorre were getting out of there.