Page 278 of Mother of Death and Dawn

There, standing beneath the shade of that tree, was the Fey king. His palm was pressed to the trunk, his head bowed against it as if in prayer. If he saw or heard us, he did not react at all.

I jerked away from the door, heart pounding. I was shaking.

It is so close.

Ilyzath’s whisper shuddered through me, deeper than sound, and yet farther away.

The end is so close, little butterfly.

The end of what? The end of the violence, or the end of the world?

Goosebumps rose on my skin with Ilyzath’s wordless, gruesome laugh.

Both.

“Help me,” I choked out. It was the only thing I could think to do. “Help me understand what I need to do.”

The stone creaked and groaned, as if straining under a million years of weight. The markings that surrounded Max’s lolling head swirled around him gracelessly.He has found his missing pieces. I must reclaim mine, to seal away such forces too powerful for mere mortal hands. The wounds must be healed, or else, they will devour you all.

Just as Vardir had said. “By Wielding all three. Life, death, change.”

A shiver of agreement, slowly fading.

“Then— then how? How do I do it?”

But Ilyzath had gone silent once more.

Max’s eyelids fluttered, and he let out a groan. Despite my best attempts at packing his wound, the blood still soaked through the fabric and now drip, drip, dripped into the water.

Even that sound felt like death mocking us.

I tilted Max’s face towards me and kissed him. He barely even had the strength or awareness to kiss me back—let alone to understand that I was kissing him goodbye.

Then I stood and unsheathed Il’Sahaj. My entire body protested. I was wounded badly, too, and carrying Max’s weight this entire time had done little to help my own injuries. But wounded or not, I had no choice but to make my move. Maybe the Fey king would kill me. If he didn’t, the magic that I had to wield almost certainly would.

I turned to the door, laying my fingers over the shards of the heart in my pocket. I took a deep breath—

—And hesitated, as goosebumps rose on the back of my neck, as if I was being watched by a familiar presence.

An overwhelming force struck me, sending me careening into the wall. Pain exploded through my abdomen as my wounds ripped open with the force of it.

I knew who I would see even before I opened my eyes. When you have shared a body with someone, you know them by presence alone.

“Aefe,” I rasped.

She stood before me with her hands clenched into fists. Red and violet blood covered her. Vines grew and died around her feet in rapid succession, climbing up her limbs in frantic bursts before withering into blackened husks and falling away, over and over again.

“You cannot hurt him,” she said, panicked and out of breath. “Do not touch him.”

She raised her blade and I cringed, certain, in that moment, she would kill me.

And yet, she hesitated. When she struck, it was not at my body but my sword, sending it sliding down the hall. I took those precious seconds to drag myself to Max—position myself in front of him, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to protect him. I was barely conscious, myself.

Aefe didn’t move for us. She only stood there amidst her churning magic, her shoulders heaving, staring—as if she was trying to understand something about us and failing. Gods, she seemed so different now than when I last saw her. She had an almost childlike face. Huge, sad eyes. They looked even sadder now.

She peered through the door, and when she saw the king standing there, she went very still.

“What is that?” Her voice was so, so small.

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