The path dissolved beneath their horses' hooves as they followed a creek winding between hills draped in evergreens. Amber-flowered grasses with needle-sharp thorns grew thigh-high along the slopes, catching at clothing like grasping hands. Shandar rode slightly apart, studying the hills' unnatural symmetry. Not hills, mounds. Ancient and deliberate.
Nine travelers moved through the landscape, sometimes single file, sometimes paired. Voices rose and fell in quiet conversation. Shandar wondered how they would recognize their destination when Reid suddenly veered left onto a dirt path strewn with rocks. No vegetation grew there, as if the earth itself had been scorched clean.
Ahead, the evergreens pressed so close they formed a tunnel of interlaced limbs. Blair raised his hand. The company halted. Reid continued several paces before noticing and turned back, confusion etched on his face. Blair silenced him with an upraised palm.
"Rika, would you check?" Blair's gaze lifted to the tunnel's ceiling where branches twisted into patterns too precise to be natural.
Rika exhaled sharply. Shandar glanced over, expecting irritation, but found Rika watching her with a knowing smile. Only then did Shandar realize she'd been lost in thought, still processing their earlier merge.
Without a word, Rika slipped the Star from beneath her tunic and placed it around her neck. Her eyes closed, her back straightened, and her body went still while her spirit ventured forth.
"Power surrounds this place," she reported, voice distant. "It shimmers but does nothing. It waits." A pause. "I'm entering the tunnel now."
Silence fell. Minutes stretched. The horses shifted uneasily beneath them. When Rika's eyes finally opened, they shone with an inner light that wasn't entirely human.
"It comes from the mound," she whispered, voice trembling with wonder. "Massive power, countless veins flowing outward. All dormant." She hesitated. "Waiting for something." Her gaze locked on Blair. "There are no people within a quarter day's ride. We should proceed."
The formal report delivered, she turned to Shandar, eyes suddenly bright. "You must see it from the spirit plane," she whispered, leaning closer. "It's beautiful beyond words. May I show you?"
The eagerness in Rika's voice caught Shandar off guard. Their earlier merge had been intense, intimate in ways that left her feeling exposed. Yet the warmth in Rika's smile made refusal impossible.
"Show me," Shandar said, reaching for Rika's arm.
The merge began with that familiar double awareness, two souls occupying one space. Then boundaries dissolved. Rika's essence flowed into her, courage facing danger, goodness despite fear, vulnerability beneath confidence. Here was the life Shandar had longed for: family, purpose, belonging. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she surrendered to the connection.
Rika guided them to the crossroads facing the mound. From the spirit plane, its true nature revealed itself, a massive jewel cut with five precise faces, inverted and partially concealed by vegetation. Its flat top angled skyward, as if waiting for a particular star.
From its summit poured a waterfall of light. Luminous veins in shifting colors cascaded down each face, merging and separating in patterns too complex to follow. All except one. A single vein remained constant, its color a perfect match to the fire burning within Shandar's chest. Without conscious thought, she moved toward it, drawing Rika along. When her spirit-self touched the vein, power surged through her, ancient, familiar, hungry.
It's mine, she thought. It has always been mine.
We must go back, Rika's voice echoed in her mind.
But the power, can't you feel it?
That's why we must go. A shudder passed through Rika's essence.
Something within the mound stirred. A presence, vast and ancient, turned its attention toward them. The constant vein pulsed once, reaching for Shandar like a finger of flame.
Awareness crashed back like a physical blow. Shandar swayed in her saddle, disoriented. A hollow emptiness spread through her chest where Rika's presence had been. Can I stop her from leaving if I try? The thought came unbidden, disturbing in its possessiveness. Something of Shandar had gone with Rika in the separation, leaving a void that ached to be filled.
"That was a gift," said Finrod, suddenly beside her. His head tilted as he studied her face, ancient eyes seeing more than Shandar wished to reveal. "To see magic in its flows on the spirit plane." He placed a steadying hand on her arm. "You can train yourself to see them in the physical world now. Remember what you've seen. The memory will guide your sight."
His mouth turned down, forming that peculiar pout that made him look centuries younger. "You are a marvel, Shandar Corpus. With your sister at your side, you may be unstoppable."
As Finrod rode toward the tunnel, Shandar smiled despite the lingering emptiness. Rika waited patiently ahead, but something had changed between them, a connection forged, yes, but also a boundary crossed. Shandar could still feel the pull of that steady vein of power, calling to her like a forgotten name.
The tunnel wasn't solid, gaps showed where trees had died or been struck by lightning, yet the weight of it pressed down as they rode through in somber silence. Branches seemed to reach lower with each passing moment. No one spoke, but tension hung in the air like the moment before lightning strikes.
The tunnel ended several paces from the crossroads. The company halted, all eyes drawn to the mound. Shandar turned to share the moment with Rika, only to find her staring intently at Blair's rigid back. She tugged Rika's reins.
"Copper for your thoughts?" Shandar asked.
"It's Blair," Rika whispered, voice tight. "He's angry, and it's affecting all of us." Her eyes narrowed. "Something must be done."
"You have some way to help him?" Shandar studied Rika's face. "What makes you so certain he's angry?"
Rika's mouth opened, then closed without sound. Something flickered behind her eyes, knowledge she wasn't ready to share. "I don't know how to handle this," she admitted finally.
Shandar considered the group dynamics, the patterns of deference. "Merric," she said simply.
Rika straightened, eyes widening. "Of course. That's the relationship I overlooked. Authoritarian, but tempered with affection and respect." A smile spread across her face. "You're brilliant. I'll speak with him at camp."
Before Shandar could respond, Rika had already moved her horse toward Merric. The loss of her presence left Shandar oddly bereft. She guided her mount to Blair's side, earning a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Rika," Blair called, "did you see any suitable campsites during your spirit walk?"
"I'm sorry," Rika replied, unable to meet his gaze. "I was completely absorbed by the mound's magic. There is a larger creek at the northeast corner."
"That would be the Feder," Reid confirmed. "There's a good campsite there."
Blair nodded. "Merric, take Bal and Ras right along the mound. Scout ahead but stay within sight. We'll meet at the campsite."
Merric acknowledged with a wave and set off. Rika immediately followed, calling, "I'll go with Merric."
"And I'll join Rika," Kumar added, spurring his horse after them.
Finrod glanced at Blair, who merely shrugged and turned left. Shandar moved to ride at his side, rewarded with another smile, warmer this time. The pull of the mound's power faded as they distanced themselves from it, but Shandar could still feel it pulsing at the edge of her awareness.
The campsite showed signs of centuries of use, a semi-circle of evergreens sheltering a clearing with a well-established fire pit. The Feder's clear waters flowed just forty paces beyond the trees.
Shandar helped gather firewood, and soon they were all seated around the crackling flames, exchanging stories as they waited for the others.
When the scouting party finally arrived, Rika's mood was clearly plain. She rode several lengths ahead, her face dark as a gathering storm. A man did that, Shandar thought instinctively, rising to meet her at the picket line.
She took the reins from the men and began unsaddling their mounts while Rika attacked her own horse's coat with short, angry strokes of the brush. Shandar watched for a moment before intervening.
"It's not Spartan's fault you're upset," she said quietly. "Be gentle with him."
Rika froze mid-stroke, shoulders rigid. Then she wrapped her arms around the horse's neck, murmuring an apology. Spartan kicked twice with his front hoof, accepting her contrition.
She resumed grooming with gentler hands. Shandar unsaddled the remaining horse and began brushing him down, both women working longer than necessary, the animals forming a barrier between them. Finally, Shandar broke the silence.
"I take it Merric wasn't helpful?"
"'Anger is better than despair,'" Rika quoted bitterly. "Can you believe that's what he said? I nearly slapped him for being so..." She struggled for words. "...so male." Her hands clenched into fists. "He wants to let Blair handle it alone. As if he doesn't even care."
Her boot kicked at the earth, sending pebbles scattering.
Shandar considered her response carefully, feeling the emptiness inside her where Rika's presence had been. Part of her wanted to agree, to share Rika's indignation and bind them closer. Instead, she said, "Merric cares deeply for Blair. You're upset with his approach, not his intentions."
She stroked the horse's flank methodically, feeling the animal's warmth against her palm. "Men often carry their burdens differently. Perhaps his advice has merit. You can only influence what's within your control."
She met Rika's eyes across the horses' backs. "Be kind to Blair. Watch how he processes this. Support him. Believe in him."
Those last three words carried more weight than the rest. Rika studied Shandar, her expression softening as she recalled their shared consciousness.
"You're right," Rika admitted. "I do believe in him. I just wish..." She sighed. "I wish he would handle his emotions the way I think he should. Is that terribly selfish?"
"Perhaps a little," Shandar said with a small smile. "But your concern comes from caring."
Rika moved around the horses and embraced Shandar tightly. "Thank you, sister," she whispered against Shandar's ear. "I love you."
The words settled into Shandar's heart like a balm against the hollow ache that had lingered since their separation. But as they walked back toward the fire, Shandar glanced over her shoulder toward the mound, just visible in the gathering darkness. The constant vein of power was still there, she knew, waiting. Calling to her. And someday soon, she would answer.
Two days of searching had hollowed Rika to her core. The Star of Serenity hung from her neck like an executioner's stone, siphoning her life with each labored heartbeat.
"Almost there," she whispered, voice barely a rasp as she stumbled over roots. Her green eyes had dulled to tarnished copper. Sweat plastered hair to her ashen face despite the cool night. The Star's silver glow had faded to match her dwindling strength.
When her legs betrayed her, Rika collapsed onto the moss. The cool earth against her palms offered small comfort. She closed her eyes, reaching for even a flicker of Astral power. Pain lanced through her skull.
"Lashnar," she prayed through cracked lips, fingers clutching the Star. "Guide me."
Though her body failed, something within refused surrender. Monde's fate rested partly on her shoulders. In the stillness, she sensed the faintest energy, a tiny ember refusing to die. Not much, but enough.
Kumar hadn't left Rika's side, his elvish features tight with concern as he tended the fire. The failed search had cast a pall over camp.
"We grid-walk the mound at dawn," Arbor suggested, voice low. "Section by section."
Blair moved around the fire, filling cups with watered wine. As he bent to serve Rasslow, a golden medallion slipped from his shirt, catching firelight.
Finrod's eyes widened. "Nuuta botuu, haaku!" He slammed his palm against his forehead. "The medallion, we never used it!"
Everyone froze.
"I've been distracted," Finrod continued, glancing toward Shandar. "Those two girls merged could move horses and riders across all of Monde in a heartbeat. The medallion alone might suffice." His hand clenched. "Give it to me. Arbor, Kumar, follow."
Kumar hesitated, looking at Rika's sleeping form.
"She's safe," Blair said. "Go."
Blair passed the medallion to Finrod, who held it by its chain and spun it with his fingers. "Faroth Coron Torrech Fae Hir-Si Mi Si."
The medallion jerked, then shot toward the mound like an arrow. Kumar and Arbor sprinted after it, disappearing into the twilight.
Finrod turned to Shandar. "What you just witnessed was an incantation. It limits the scope, requires less power, and has minimal effect on the surrounding environment."
"What did you say?" Shandar asked, brow furrowed.
"Hunt mound, lair spirit, find this," Finrod translated with a small smile. "I don't use full sentences. The medallion responds to both words and thoughts."
Kumar burst through the trees. "We found it! A dead oak, the medallion fit perfectly into a slot. The glamor's gone. There's a door."
Everyone rose except Kumar, who moved to Rika's side with his kettle. "I'll stay until her strength returns. Bring Dagmar here when the deal is done."
Reid shifted to the farthest side of the fire, eyeing Rika. "I'll keep watch," he muttered, though everyone knew he simply couldn't stomach sickness.
Kumar brewed tea from herbs in his pouch, roused Rika enough for a few sips. She drifted back to sleep. He settled beside her, watching her chest rise and fall, wondering what price they would pay for Dagmar's help.
Blair lingered at the edge of camp, watching Kumar tend to Rika before hurrying after the others. They stood before an alcove cut with impossible precision into the mound, a straight slice creating an overhang two paces deep.
Beneath hung a wooden door with an iron handle. Beside it sat a birch pot containing a cypress topiary trimmed into a perfect spiral, impossibly green and vital. The contrast against the dead oak and wild forest was jarring, like finding a palace parlor in wilderness.
Blair approached the door.
"Stop," Finrod hissed, chewing his cheek. "It's his home. Knock first."
Blair squared his shoulders and rapped his knuckles against the wood. Silence stretched until the door swung inward.
Light spilled from above, illuminating the occupant. Tall and lithe, with muscles like corded tendons beneath fern-colored fur. An inverted triangular face with a small round chin rising to prominent cheekbones. Mismatched eyes caught the light—one emerald, one pale blue, beneath a patch of bare skull. A ruddy mane cascaded down his back.
"Ya do remember you're on a qu'est, no?" The creature's lip curled, revealing needle-sharp teeth. "Ya have the medallion but don't use it for two days? I thought I'd have to open the damn thing myself."
He wore what could only be described as a bathrobe tied loosely at his narrow waist. His black, cat-like whiskers twitched with irritation.
"Where's the girl with the Star?" he demanded. "Who taught her magic? She nearly died wearing herself down like that."
Blair's posture stiffened as realization hit him. Two days of searching, two days of Rika fading to nothing, when they had the means to find Dagmar all along.
"She's resting in camp," he managed. "The Star drains her."
"Who taught her? A novice?"
"Herself," Blair answered, unable to suppress a grim smile at his companions' surprise.
Dagmar disappeared inside without another word. Grunts and clatters echoed from within.
Minutes later, he emerged wearing midnight-black armor that matched Shandar's. A sword with a crescent moon handle hung over his shoulder. He brushed past Blair toward camp.
Shandar intercepted him, blocking his path. Dagmar stopped, mismatched eyes studying her. Then he stepped forward, took her hand, and knelt.
"Mistress," he said formally, "you wear your mantle better than I hoped. I am your servant." He kissed her hand, rose, and continued toward camp.
They followed in silence. As they approached the fire, Kumar moved protectively in front of Rika. Dagmar slowed, stopping where he could clearly see her.
Kumar's smile held no warmth.
Then Dagmar changed.
His body flowed like water in a vessel. Waist narrowed, shoulders rounded, small breasts formed beneath the now-ill-fitting sword belt. A five-foot tail grew from his spine, tipped with crimson hair. His neck thinned, features softened, ruddy mane transforming to royal blue. She stretched upward, revealing webbing that extended from wrists to pelvis.
Kumar's jaw slackened. Even Blair stared.
The fairy bowed. "An elf guarding a human mage. Does she know how special that is?" Her voice chimed like crystal. "I am Salem. May I heal her?"
Kumar nodded, speechless.
Salem placed her hand on Rika's forehead. Cornflower blue light emanated from her palm, spreading in a gentle halo before flowing down Rika's body like liquid starlight.
Rika's eyes fluttered open. "Whoa," she gasped, "a gentle shake would have sufficed." She pushed up on her elbows, glanced at Kumar reproachfully, then froze at the sight of Salem.
"Dagmar?" she whispered.
Salem's laugh rippled through the air. "No, child. I am Salem, Dagmar's other half. I heal; he will teach you to use the Star without being drained." She tilted her head. "How do you feel?"
Rika began to answer, then gasped. "Quite well. Your doing?" She stretched, then in one fluid motion rose, spun in a circle, and planted her feet wide apart. Color had returned to her cheeks, her eyes bright again.
She hugged herself, eyes closed in appreciation, then tilted sideways and landed on the ground with a thump.
"Food before acrobatics," Kumar said, appearing with broth. "Your body needs time."
Rika accepted the pot. After the first sip, she squeezed Kumar's hand in thanks.
"You are a delightful enigma," Salem said, leaning forward. "Who are you?"
"Rika Gresso. Small-town girl, Queen's Maid, law breaker, outlaw, Astral, and companion to my friends." She glanced around. "Where is Dagmar? Can I meet him?"
Salem doubled over with laughter. As she recovered, Blair and Shandar settled beside Rika. Salem sat cross-legged before them.
"I am Salem," she said to Shandar and Blair. "As for meeting Dagmar, you already have. We are hermaphrodite, shifting between male and female forms. I am Salem, but I am also part of the mind you know as Dagmar. Speaking to me is speaking to him." She turned her palms upward. "Shall we discuss our deal?"
Rika glanced at Shandar, then Blair. Both nodded.
"What was the price of your last deal?" Blair asked, suddenly grave.
"Defining parameters to gauge the cost... a true Prince." Salem's iridescent eyes bored into Blair. "Our home has served us well these seven hundred seasons." She glanced around. "I would like all to hear this. Their lives will be affected too."
"Around the fire, then," Blair said, offering Shandar his hand. She took it with visible reluctance.
The group formed a circle around the embers. Rasslow and Baltan tried to remain by the horses until Blair beckoned them firmly.
"All of us. This concerns everyone."
When they were assembled, only fire crackle and night birds broke the silence. Blair nodded to Salem.
"We stand at a crossroads," she began, her voice dropping to command attention. "Darkness, betrayal, and death lie ahead. An evil unseen for thousands of seasons has awakened. Triangul now rises before dawn. Time works against us."
Her eyes reflected firelight. "You need Dagmar, Golden Heart and Friend to All, to reach your destination. Your prophecy demands it."
She pushed up her sleeves deliberately. "Victory is what our deal plans for. Dagmar, however, does not plan on surviving."
A collective breath caught in throats around the fire.
"He is a warrior," Salem continued, "but no wars have been fought for generations. He stands in the evening of his dream and wishes only for peace."
She stared at her empty hands, then inhaled deeply, shoulders swaying as though to music only she heard.
"I want to live as a single being. To explore these lands as I never have before." Her voice softened. "I am an elemental. My mere presence affects what surrounds me."
She weighed each word. "If I turned evil, I would become terrible. I don't believe I'm evil, but I cannot guarantee that for all time." Her eyes met each of theirs. "It's a risk, just as allowing an enemy to live is a risk. Humans do this constantly. The risk is minor. The requirement... is heavy."
"Heavy is the burden placed on oneself," Finrod murmured, smile brittle.
Salem nodded. "Separating from Dagmar requires enormous power and many components." She paused, letting silence build. "Our deal hinges on one critical ingredient: a human egg."
Blair's head jerked back. "A human... egg?" The words came as a whisper.
"To grow a new body for me," Salem said matter-of-factly.
The fire popped loudly. Merric coughed. Baltan and Rasslow exchanged bewildered glances.
Rika's face had gone pale. "Does the egg's age matter? Could it be from a woman near the end of her cycles?"
"Age is of no consequence."
"Physical presence is necessary?"
"Yes. She must be present for the spell."
"And your relationship with the woman afterward?"
"Blood kin. Cousins, in your terminology."
Rika turned away. "We need time. We will come to your home with our answer."
Salem rose in one fluid motion. "Bring the woman or don't come." Her voice hardened. "Once you leave the forest barrier, you'll be sensed again. The forces controlled by this evil will find you shortly after." Her eyes softened. "I want to live. Remember that."
She floated away, gradually fading into darkness.
Silence stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. They gathered closer, standing in a tight circle. Blair's shoulders hunched under leadership's weight.
"Can we ask our women to give up their firstborn for this?" he asked, gaze moving between Rika and Shandar, pain etched around his eyes.
Shandar turned away, back to the mound. Her lips pressed into a line as she shook her head, one hand covering her mouth.
"No," she whispered. "Neither of us should be forced into this."
Finrod's smile wavered. "I agree. Though Golden Heart is named in my version of the prophecy as well. His help would be... valuable."
Blair's gaze skipped around the circle, body restless.
"Does it have to be them?" Merric asked. "Can't we find someone else?" He turned to Rika. "You had something in mind with those questions."
But Rika stood motionless, eyes closed, consciousness elsewhere despite not wearing the Star.
The others settled back down. Shandar slumped onto a stump, her eyes suddenly glazing over. Blair watched with concern, guessing that Rika had somehow reached out to her.
Minutes passed. Rika inhaled sharply and staggered backward.
None of them noticed the figure that had materialized beside Shandar.
"Whoa, that was strange," said a melodious voice.
Blair spun around, heart stopping. "Mom?"
Queen Ellis Whyte-Willow stood among them, unescorted and radiant even in dim firelight. Blair moved as in a dream, crossing to her in three strides before enfolding her in his arms. He lifted her off the ground, face buried in her shoulder.
"I didn't know how much I needed to see you," he whispered, voice breaking. Setting her down, he dropped to his knees, forehead pressed against her middle.
Merric remained seated, chuckling softly, shaking his head with affection.
The Queen guided Blair to his feet and turned toward Shandar. With practiced grace, she curtsied.
"Mistress, it is an honor to serve you. I am Ellis Whyte-Willow, Queen."
Shandar's mouth snapped shut. She bowed awkwardly. "We serve each other, Your Majesty."
The Queen's smile was like sunrise after a long night. Shandar straightened, growing taller under that approving gaze. Beside them, Rika's eyes filled with tears as the Queen embraced her.
"It's alright, daughter," Ellis whispered, just loud enough for those nearest to hear.
Composing herself, Ellis turned to her son. "Introductions?"
Blair offered his arm, guiding her toward the elves. "Prince Finrod of the Mountain Elves, may I present Queen Ellis Whyte-Willow, my mother." He gestured to the others. "His companions, Kumar and Arbor."
Finrod bowed. "Your beauty rivals the greatest sunset. Tales did not do justice to reality."
They exchanged formal bows, acknowledgment between equals. Kumar and Arbor knelt in respect.
Ellis embraced Merric with genuine warmth.
"I told you that girl would bring me here," Merric laughed.
"Impossible imp," the Queen retorted, joining his laughter.
Blair introduced the guardsmen. They saluted, fists crossing their chests.
Rasslow stepped forward. "Your Majesty, we mean no disrespect, but the Mistress is who we follow now. Would you allow us this freedom?"
He knelt, lowering his head. Baltan followed. A hush fell over the camp.
Ellis touched each man lightly on the head before bidding them rise.
"My duty is to protect this land and its people," she said. "Allowing you to serve the Mistress of Fire fulfills that duty." Her eyes twinkled. "Now you'll have no objections when I take Merric with me." She glanced around. "Is there wine? And..." her gaze settled on Rika, "...why am I here?"
The men collectively retreated from her question. Rika stepped forward with wine.
"Your Majesty, would you walk with us? Shandar and I will explain by the river. The sound of rushing water provides privacy."
Ellis accepted the cup, allowing herself to be guided toward the river. Once seated on smooth stones at the water's edge, the three women regarded one another, nervousness evident in averted gazes.
Rika took a deep breath. "We were informed by Aurin Sweetwater that the Golden Heart mentioned in the prophecy is Dagmar, a fairy warrior. To secure his help, we must strike a bargain."
She explained about the fairies' nature, their desire to separate, and Salem's powers.
"Dagmar intends to die helping us. Salem healed me and says Dagmar can teach me to use the Star without being drained."
"The Star?" Ellis inquired, eyebrow raised.
"Another gift from Aurin," Rika admitted. "It allows me to see through magic and communicate when my spirit leaves my body. Using it without cost would be invaluable before we confront this evil."
Ellis raised her hand, silencing further explanation. She turned toward the river, its dark waters gleaming with starlight. For several moments, she simply listened to night sounds, breathing measured as she gathered her thoughts.
Ellis stared at Rika, comprehension dawning slowly. "Men acting shy... the only woman here." Her voice strengthened. "They want a baby? You want me to find them a baby?"
Rika shook her head, unable to meet the Queen's eyes. "No. Are you..." She swallowed. "Are you still having cycles, Your Majesty?"
Ellis's hand flew to her throat. She turned away, shoulders rigid. "You want me to have a baby?" Her voice began thin and brittle. "Have you lost your mind?"
"Mother," Rika's voice softened, "one of us three must give up an egg. The magic requires it. They'll use it to grow Salem into her separate self."
"So, it's to be me?" Ellis's laugh was hollow. She slumped on the riverbank, suddenly older. "Are you that shrewd, child? Do you already see the advantage of binding fairy magic to the royal line?"
"No." Rika's eyes glistened. "I couldn't bear to give up my firstborn. And I couldn't ask Shandar to do what I wasn't willing to do myself." She reached toward Ellis but stopped short. "I knew you were the answer."
Ellis studied both young women. The mask of queenship slipped, revealing something raw beneath. She pressed her palm against her abdomen, still strong despite the years and children it had carried. Her brow furrowed. She bit her lip, eyes darting toward the dark river as if seeking escape.
Then something shifted. Her jaw firmed. She straightened her spine, and when she met their gaze again, resolve had hardened in her eyes.
"Quite the trap you've laid." Ellis's voice was dry. "I suppose consulting Vardon is out of the question?" She looked between them. "We're a quarter-moon from the castle being attacked. We have preparations. The capital will be abandoned for Tiereny."
Shandar remained still, save for her searching eyes. Rika's mouth fell open.
"It doesn't have to be you," Rika said, voice lower than before, "but it can't be us." The fight had drained from her face, leaving only exhaustion and pleading eyes.
"Give Blair what he needs, and you save all the children." Shandar tipped her head back, blinking at stars. "Both the elves and Blair believe we need Dagmar." She looked directly at Ellis, deference at odds with intensity. "Your Majesty, please."
As Shandar closed her eyes in silent prayer, Ellis's features sagged. The weight of a realm pressed on her shoulders, as it always had.
"Very well," she said. "Let's do this."
Blair kept his distance as the three women approached Dagmar's dwelling. Each crunch of gravel beneath his boots echoed his heartbeat. He'd already lost the argument about being here, both with Shandar, who insisted he shouldn't witness this, and with his mother, who'd dismissed his concerns with brutal simplicity: his presence would change nothing.
What would be, would be.
Yet he couldn't leave her to face this alone. Too many grimoires in his father's library detailed magical ceremonies gone horrifically wrong.
Rika glanced back, golden hair slicing across her shoulder. The question in her eyes needed no voice: Still with us? Shandar's jaw worked silently, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against her staff. Between them walked Queen Ellis, her cloak whispering around her ankles as she fixed her gaze on the open doorway ahead.
The entrance was cut directly into the hillside, framed by cypress wood with runes pulsing blue at its threshold. Blair allowed himself a small smile at this ordinary detail, a doorframe, amidst such extraordinary circumstances.
Inside, Ellis raised one hand. Light bloomed instantly from iron sconces, revealing a chamber that defied the mound's exterior dimensions. Blair swallowed hard. Honeyed sandstone columns soared upward, their surfaces writhing with carved vines. The wedge-shaped space funneled attention to three stone pedestals beneath a broad arch, with curved stairs ascending on either side.
Salem lounged against the central altar, one boot propped against its base. At their entrance, she straightened, hope flickering across her sharp features before she masked it behind formality. The women climbed toward her. When Blair moved to follow, Salem raised a single hand. He stopped.
"You've decided?" Salem's voice carried clearly in the vaulted chamber, her eyes finding Ellis. "You'll grant our petition?"
Ellis mounted the lowest step, her cloak pooling around her. Salem bowed, then spoke with deliberate formality.
"My Lady, you honor our home." She turned to Rika. "And the farm girl who's earned a queen's ear." She guided Ellis toward the right pedestal with a sweeping gesture. "Do you comprehend what stands before you? Alone, this child wields remarkable power. Combined with the Mistress…" Her voice softened. "How did you come to know her?"
"She slapped my son." Ellis's diplomatic mask slipped into something genuine. "I decided not to kill her."
Salem's laugh burst forth, unexpected and musical. She positioned Ellis beside the right pedestal, then addressed her with gentler tones.
"Lie here. I'll take the left, with the Itatiella pod between us." She explained the process with the care of a physician. "A dream-haze will take you. You'll remain conscious but unable to move. When you wake, I'll occupy the center, Dagmar the left." Her voice caught slightly. "You'll feel lightheaded, then... nothing." She paused. "Thank you."
Rika's fingers worked at her cuticles. Shandar's hand hovered near her staff. Ellis smoothed her skirts and reclined on the cold stone as if it were merely an uncomfortable bed at a diplomatic function.
Salem approached the glowing pod. From a leather pouch, she extracted pale powder and sprinkled it over the surface. Without ceremony, she lay down on her own slab.
"Zanna Xantho," she whispered.
A sharp chirp split the silence. Smoke coiled from the pod, dividing and enveloping both women. Their bodies tensed once, then went slack. The smoke thickened, transforming to a silvery gel that draped them like burial shrouds.
A red pinpoint appeared over Ellis's heart.
Blair's throat closed. The crimson essence, his mother's fertility, her sacrifice, drifted across the gap between pedestals and sank into the pod's core.
Rika seized Shandar's hand. Their eyes unfocused simultaneously, seeing beyond the physical. Blair could only watch as they gasped at whatever magical currents were visible to them alone.
The pod lifted from its pedestal. Its shell liquefied, dripping pearlescent fluid that devoured the stone beneath. Blair climbed one step higher, straining to see his mother. Above them all, a prismatic dome cascaded with rainbow light.
He watched, transfixed, as the pod and Salem blurred together into living light. Magic poured between them, a torrent from Salem to the pod, a thin trickle from Ellis.
On the left pedestal, a form solidified, Dagmar, unconscious but intact. Bands of amber energy arced from him to the central mass.
The sphere flared vermillion, so bright Blair had to shield his eyes. When he looked again, the light had softened to cream, then winked out entirely.
Three figures remained: Dagmar, Ellis, and between them on the floor, a new woman with cream-pale skin threaded with vermillion currents. Her hair, once Salem's fiery red, now shone golden as summer wheat.
Blair rushed down the stairs and dropped to his knees beside his mother. Her pulse beat steady beneath his fingertips. She opened her eyes and squeezed his hand.
"I'm fine," she whispered. "Thank you for staying."
On the floor, the new Salem stirred. She curled into herself, hugging her knees to her chest, then looked up at Dagmar with sage-green eyes.
"I miss your voice in my mind," she said. "I thought I would feel... complete. Do you miss me?"
"Lass," Dagmar's voice roughened with emotion, "not hearing your nagging is the only reason I agreed to this."
He pulled her to her feet and into an embrace that spoke of centuries shared. When the moment stretched too long, Blair cleared his throat. They broke apart, both flushing. Dagmar clasped his hands behind his back, military-straight.
"We should return," he said gruffly. "There's much to prepare before dawn."
Outside, the company froze mid-activity as Ellis emerged. She leaned briefly on Blair's arm before straightening, brushing an errant curl from her face, and giving the camp a regal nod. Activity resumed with the quiet efficiency of those accustomed to royal presence.
Ellis slipped her arm through Blair's as they approached the fire. "It was terrifying at first," she murmured, eyes closing against the memory. "I couldn't move... couldn't breathe. Then came peace. Perfect peace." Her smile carried a shadow. "And then you were there."
She didn't speak of what she'd sacrificed. She never would. Queens bear their burdens silently.
Across the fire, Shandar, Rika, and the newly-formed Salem huddled together, heads bent in whispered consultation.
Dagmar drained a cup of wine Merric had handed him. "We march at first light," he announced, voice carrying across the camp. "Two days to the Squat Hills, then over the waste to Dragon Rest." Without another word, he strode away, back rigid. Salem rose, squeezed both girls' hands, and followed.
Shandar leaned toward Rika. "Let's check if the Queen's chambers are empty."
Rika closed her eyes, her consciousness stretching across miles. "Clear," she confirmed, opening her eyes.
Merric embraced Rika, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Be smart," he murmured. "Let others help you."
Shandar's fingers traced a complex pattern in the air. Golden light shimmered, and Ellis and Merric simply vanished.
Blair exhaled shakily. "They're safe. My mothers by the fire, eyes closed." He hugged Rika with fierce gratitude.
Dagmar spun toward them, wine sloshing from his cup. "Flippin' insane!" he sputtered. "Whisking people about like that!" His face darkened. "How?"
Shandar nodded toward Rika, who stretched out on the ground like a starfish.
"Magic is wish fulfillment," Rika said, her voice dreamy as her fingers wove patterns in the air. "I believe, therefore it is."
"You could destroy everything!" Dagmar's breathing grew labored, his face flushing dark. He looked desperately toward Salem. "Are you hearing this madness?"
Salem stepped between them, her posture fluid as water. "New generations bring new understanding," she said, her voice melodic but firm. "It's why she's here. We must grow with her or be left behind."
Her hand brushed Dagmar's arm. "Rest now. The journey begins at dawn."
Dagmar's shoulders slumped as he turned away, disappearing into shadow. Around the fire, the company settled onto their blankets. Rika and Shandar pressed close, sharing secret smiles in the firelight.
"He thinks he's leading this quest," Shandar murmured.
Rika's eyes caught the ember-light. "How do we tell a centuries-old fairy warrior that he isn't in charge?"
Shandar's grin turned dangerous in the dying light. "Carefully."