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“Or you can go back,” Marlana says. The water is suddenly hidden, obscured behind the sway of the trees as the wind stirs the leaves. “Your friends have opened a doorway for you. Should you wish it, you can go back. You can continue living.”

“How did they do that?”

“It is not my place to say.”

That puzzles Jaylie, but she does not question it.

As comforting as it is to be in the presence of her goddess, there is something about this place that Jaylie does not like.

It’s too comfortable. The softness of the grass under her feet invites her to lie down and rest. The gentle breeze threading through her hair is the perfect temperature, cooling sweat before it even has the chance to bead on her brow.

The longer she remains here, the easier it would be to allow her eyelids to droop, her body to relax, her bones to sleep forever.

Jaylie violently shakes the fog from her head. “I want to go back. I want to live. I’m not ready to go.” Despite her vehemence, her eyes flood with tears. “But I don’t want to leave you, my Lady. There are so many things I want to ask, so much I want to learn. Will I see you again?”

Marlana takes Jaylie’s face between her hands and presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You see me every day, child. You see me in the sun that chases away the storm clouds, and in the smiles of young lovers who have found each other at last. You see me when you find the shortest path through the darkest forest, and in a babe’s first cry when it is welcomed to life.

” Teasingly, the goddess taps the tip of Jaylie’s nose. “I am always with you.”

Marlana guides Jaylie to step carefully onto the edge of the well. Before she can stop herself, Jaylie wraps her goddess in a fierce hug. “Thank you,” she whispers into the fall of her hair. “Thank you, my Lady, for everything.”

Marlana holds Jaylie gently, full of warmth and light and love. “Good luck, my darling.”

Jaylie turns, takes a deep breath in, and jumps.

She’s so cold, and it’s so dark.

The pressure hurts. Every part of her body aches to move, but every muscle under her skin is tight and cramping, frozen just on the edge of breaking. Pain sears along each of her bones, swelling in her ears and between her temples, and just when she thinks that every joint is about to pop —

Warmth blooms on her lips.

It’s like the first breath of sunshine in spring, come to thaw the winter.

It’s the first taste of soup after a long, grueling day.

Better—it’s the taste of hot spiced cider at her favorite tavern, surrounded by friends, raucous laughter, and the promise of a lantern-lit night full of dancing.

The warmth seeps into her limbs with the enveloping embrace of easing into a steaming bath.

It chases the ice from her veins and urges life back into her skin.

As the sensation fades, she begins to feel where chunks of raw crystal and stone press uncomfortably into her spine, where her arms and legs sting from the memory of recent wounds.

There’s a specific pain in the back of her neck that feels particularly out of place, throbbing horribly.

The warmth recedes as she settles back into reality.

But the heat is still on her lips, tasting of fire.

Jaylie’s eyelids flutter open to find Loren close to her face— touching her face. Touching her lips. This close, she can see where his brow is creased in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. The air around him hums with powerful magic—and where his skin touches hers, he burns like the sun.

It takes her three thudding, glorious heartbeats to realize that he’s kissing her.

It takes him three thudding, glorious heartbeats to realize that she’s alive.

He draws back from her in a rush, and his green eyes flash open in surprise. Tentatively he reaches forward, tracing a line from her temple to her jaw with his calloused musician’s fingers.

“Jay.” He says her name so tenderly, and she’s shocked to feel tears gather in the corners of her eyes.

For a moment, it’s the only sound she hears. Then all at once, as if time catches up to her, noise fills the small cavern. The rush of the waterfall into the pool, the crunch of gravel underneath boots as her party rushes forward, Kain’s shout—or maybe Morgana’s—as they realize that she’s okay.

Loren’s sweet, unguarded smile is soon replaced with an uncharacteristically sober expression as he holds his palms up defensively. “I know what you’re going to say, but listen, I swear that was part of the spell. The exchange of breath is a crucial element in the process of resurrection, and—”

She silences him. Reaching upward, she curls a fist in his waves of red hair and pulls him down until his lips meet hers again.

There’s a surprised noise in the back of his throat that swiftly dissolves into a deeply satisfied chuckle.

Jaylie kisses him hungrily, chasing the rush of every sensation that floods her body—every reminder there is blood racing through her veins, breath caught in her mouth, a heart fluttering against her ribs.

It’s a kiss to remind her that she’s alive.

I’m here, she gasps to herself. I’m here!

It’s the laughter that finally makes her pull away. She can’t contain the way it bubbles up out of her in a stunned, wondrous cloud. “Goddess,” she exclaims, unable to tear her eyes away from Loren. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. ” She punctuates each statement with a kiss.

Then, “What the fuck happened?”

“You died,” Morgana chirps helpfully as she pretends to wipe dust out of her watering eyes. “Spectacularly. The beholder turned you to stone, rammed forward in one big rush, and—” She splays her fingers wide and throws her hands above her head in a bursting motion.

“But you brought me back.” Jaylie’s gaze searches the face of each party member, landing last on Loren. His expression softens at the same moment that hers hardens quizzically, and she tilts her head. “You don’t have access to that kind of magic,” she says slowly. And then, uncertainly: “Do you?”

“What can I say? Sometimes the music just…comes to me.” He smiles winningly. “What, do you wish I hadn’t brought you back?” His words are teasing, but Jaylie notices a twinge of tension in his tone, like a lute string tuned too sharp.

“Of course not.” She lets out another laugh, marveling at how it feels to have the air move through her lungs.

She will never take the sensation for granted again.

“I just don’t know why you lot bother to have me around if you’ve got that kind of magic in your repertoire. You’ll have me replaced in no time.”

Kain, who up until this point had been sitting in the shadows, leans forward from his perch on a boulder.

A muscle feathers down the length of his jaw.

“You heal with much more reliability than the bard does.” His tone is flat.

Factual. His gaze cuts toward Loren, made all the more unnerving by his pupilless black eyes.

Loren rolls one shoulder in a shrug with forced nonchalance. “I always keep a few tricks up my sleeve. For emergencies.”

Kain nods his head heavily, seemingly weighed down by his great horns.

Morgana crouches near the embers of a dying fire, covering it with sand. Jaylie’s gaze swings toward them, bewildered. “Were you thinking of making camp? Here? ”

“We considered it,” Loren answers quickly as he stands, bracing his hands on his knees before straightening. He offers Jaylie a hand up. “But on second thought, I think we would like nothing better than to get out of this place.”

Jaylie takes his hand and rises. Though she wants nothing more than to sprint headlong out of the cave and back into the sunlight, she pauses and looks around. “The orb,” she says. “Did we get it?”

“You bet we did.” Morgana hefts up the beholder’s eye. Her arms barely reach around its total circumference. Strangely enough, it’s hardened and crystallized, reminiscent of the chunks of quartz in the cavern’s walls. Somehow they’re dimmer now, but the orb glows with the same sickly green light.

Jaylie nods. “Good. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”