When I made it to the spot where a landslide blocked the path to the pass, I realized the enormity of my mistake. Every strike caused the pile of rubble to tremble, and loose rocks tumbled down, some large enough to kill. I had no supplies to climb over them, and I was in more danger here than at the camp.

"Damn it!" I screamed, grabbing a stone and tossing it to the side. I would dismantle this barricade one stone at a time, if I must.

I covered my eyes as lightning streaked across the sky. This bolt did not strike the earth. It was not as brilliant as the others, and there had been a lengthy pause since the last one. Had I been wrong? I knew so little about the magic here.

Debris rained over my head, something sharp slicing the tender skin of my cheek before I could protect my face. Someone jerked me backward just in time to avoid becoming a red stain on the snow as a large boulder dropped directly where I'd been standing.

"This makes three times," the Reaper said, catching my chin in his hand and turning it so he could see the damage to my face. "If I'd been a second too slow..."

"I thought you left."

He released me and studied the mountain of rubble in front of us. "No, when I'm completely cloaked, my speed is enhanced. I was behind you the entire time."

"Invisible?"

Exhaling hard, he rubbed the back of his neck, then nodded. "Yes. Invisible. Is this really the time?"

I shrugged. "You're being so forthcoming, and if the world really is ending, I'd like answers before I die."

"I'll be happy to answer any question you have if you just open your damn mouth and Sing." The Reaper didn't even look at me before adding, "But that's not going to happen, so what do I need to do to keep you alive long enough to see reason?"

"You want me to Sing, but you don't even know if that will stop this? Killing Tievel won't light the portals? And if the king caused this, then why didn't it stop when he died?"

"Exactly. Because..." The Reaper huffed and closed his eyes. "What if he isn't dead?"

I opened my mouth to answer when a hoarse shout drew our attention to the top of the pile. Astreia appeared first. Then Tievel dragged Yoko's limp form over the side. The Reaper zeroed in on the prince, his hands clenched into fists.

He flinched when I touched him. "You should go before they see you."

"I suppose you haven't told them how you actually got out of Friedesh?"

"How am I supposed to explain that?" I said, drawing him beneath a tree to avoid more rocks being dislodged as my friends climbed down. "That the Reaper who helped us escape has been following along because he wants me to Sing away the prince's immortality. I'm certain that would go over well. Now go," I commanded, growing sad at the thought of his absence. He irritated me and wanted what I couldn't give, but he was the one person whose motivations were clear. I knew exactly where he stood.

"Morana," Tievel called, clutching Yoko to his chest as he dropped the last feet to the ground. He squinted in my direction, a frown tugging at his lips as the Reaper pulled his cloak around him. "Morana, is that you?"

"What happened?" I asked, gathering my skirts in my hand and rushing toward my friends. Astreia leaned against a rock and blew out a hard breath. Her starlight flickered erratically, and blood dripped down her eyebrow.

"Was someone with you?"

"No," I lied, hugging the princess and avoiding his searching gaze before repeating, "What happened?"

"The moment we entered the pass, the storm went crazy," Tievel said. The strikes became more intense and more direct, almost like it was targeting us. How we made it out without being hit, I don't know."

Astreia took Yoko from Tievel and pressed kisses along her pale face. "It took us half the time to get out of the pass and back to this point, and the lightning chased us the entire way. I've never heard of it leaving the pass. The entire mountain felt like it was moving."

The prince pulled me into a warm embrace, and I pressed my face into his chest, relishing every rise and fall. Counting them and wondering if they were among his last.

"What happened to her?"

"She was pinned beneath a rock when we reached the barrier. Tievel dug her out, and we climbed as fast as we could without doing more damage." Astreia choked on a sob. "Please don't leave me," she whispered to Yoko.

"She's going to be fine. She will heal," I reminded the princess, knowing full well how painful it was to see someone you cared for suffer even while knowing they wouldn't die. But Astreia didn't look comforted by the sentiment.

"We only made it because the lightning slowed." Tievel steadied Astreia as she swayed beneath Yoko's weight, but he didn't take the soldier from her. She wouldn't allow it if he tried.

"Wait," I said, his observation stopping me in my tracks. Over the Lightning Pass, the night sky was clear and crisp and dotted with a hundred stars. Not a single cloud marred the view. "Where did the storm go?"

Tievel and Astreia turned around slowly, their eyes raising and growing wide in unison. The charge which had been in the mountain air since the day before was gone. I breathed deep and coughed. It was like comparing a stale room to a fresh breeze in a meadow. The wild magic hadn't just been in the storm but in every fiber of the landscape.

"We need to get her to a healer," Astreia said, not nearly as concerned about the disappearance of the storm as I was. It was not like her to ignore something so monumental, but her primary concern was for the lover fading in her arms.

"The Crossroads will be our best hope, but we will have to go on foot," I explained, remembering the horse's terrified whinnies during the quake. If it had survived, it was long gone from here.

"That walk will take too long," Astreia protested. "She won't make it."

Irritation skittered through me as I wiped my tears. All those people who perished in Friedesh, and now who knew what consequences would follow from losing such a powerful source of magic in the world. And Astreia wanted to act dramatically about a girl who couldn't die.

"She's immortal. She'll be fine."

"But she's not–"

"Astreia!" Tievel snapped, then shoved a hand through his snarled hair.

"She's a High Elf." I dry swallowed as missing pieces clicked into place.

"She's mixed blood," Astreia explained, her words coming out in pants as she struggled to carry Yoko up a hill. One benefit of the absent storm was a steady ground beneath our feet; however, the terrain was more uneven than before because of the quakes.

"I don't understand," I said, rubbing my temples and swatting Tievel's hand away when he reached for me. It seemed the secrets between us would never cease.

"It doesn't matter," Tievel insisted. "What does matter is that Yoko can and will die if we don't get her help. I think we should find someplace to get settled. Get her warm and still. I'll run ahead to get help."

Astreia looked ready to argue, but stumbled and nearly dropped the soldier. Yoko groaned, the feeble cry so at odds with the woman's fierce personality. I put my arm around my friend and helped her regain her footing.

Tears left dirty tracks on Astreia's face as she allowed herself to be guided to a copse of Butterfly bushes growing beneath the evergreens. I'd noticed they were plentiful on the mountain during our travels but forgot how useful they were until now. In the spring, diaphanous lavender blossoms covered their branches. By summer, the lovely flowers were gone, replaced by leafy ribbons of green that butterflies laid their eggs upon. The caterpillars stripped most of the bushes bare before the winter cold did so; however, if you were lucky enough to find a bush with leaves left, the tea made from boiling the dried husks could be used as a pain remedy.

Once Tievel had us settled and warm, he set off again, sparing me a lingering glance filled with such turmoil I almost cried out for him to stop. To apologize for refusing his touch earlier in case it was our last. But something steely and hard wound around my heart and silenced me. I watched him until I could not see him in the dark.

Thrusting back my shoulders, I lifted my chin and focused on what I could do while we waited. Astreia cradled Yoko by the fire and whispered soft words to her while I searched for an object that could hold water. All of our supplies were in the clearing or lost.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something to melt snow in." I had found two leaves clinging to a bottom branch. It might not be enough to do much, but at least warm water could clean her wounds.

"Check my pack," the princess said, tapping the discarded bag with the edge of her toe.

I untied the bag and stopped at once. At the bottom, wrapped in cloth to protect the glass, the jar containing our bit of the Light of the World rested safely. It had not dimmed, and it gave me hope that all the other pieces of the Light were safe around the world. The beacon may be gone, but its impact on the lives of everyone who came into contact with it remained. When this was all over, I vowed to return to Friedesh to put things right and prayed the price was not Tievel's life.

Next to the flame was a lightning struck obsidian stone from the pass. Besides its oil-slick sheen, there was nothing special in its appearance, but it carried the same electric magic as the storm. Astreia must have grabbed one while they were trying to get out. The stone was further proof that the prince's continued existence had not resulted in complete destruction. I stroked it and closed my eyes, soaking up the tangible hope it represented.

"Morana, did you find anything?"

"Could we not use the flame again?"

Astreia hesitated, then shook her head. "We can't be sure it won't disappear, and if it did, Yoko would be very upset. If Tievel doesn't bring help in time, then we will use it."

I snatched up the tin cup wrapped in an old blouse. "Then this will do."

Snow filled the cup to the rim, and after several failed attempts at putting the cup directly in the fire, where it tipped to the side or heated so quickly I feared the metal would melt, I set it on the ground and pulled the ends of my hair in frustration. Yoko's pitiful whimpers only made me grind my teeth together.

"If Yoko was awake, she would have a hundred ways to boil water over that fire," Astreia said, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she watched me try to hold the cup over the tallest flame. After a few minutes, I dropped it in the dirt and plunged my singed fingertips into the snow to ease the ache.

"Maybe if I'd gone with you, I could've helped her when it happened. Or stopped it." Instead of playing in the snow with the enemy.

Astreia leaned over and took my hand. She brought the burned fingers to her lips, pressing a soothing kiss to each digit before releasing me. "And instead, you might be the one I was holding. The one I might lose. I would not choose one over the other."

"Do you love her?" I asked, watching her dip a cloth into the tepid water and wash dirt from Yoko's face.

I'd only learned of their affair days ago, but the affection I'd seen between them since hinted at something that stretched far beyond lust. That level of affection required much longer than a few days to develop.

Didn't it?

"I–" Astreia paused, rolling her lip the way she did when she took a question seriously. "I respect her very much, and for me, that is almost better than love. I didn't much care for her in the palace because I thought she was one of Queen Thera's puppets, and in some ways, she was, but I understand more now. In a lot of ways, we're alike. Living in a world of someone else's design and pushing boundaries where we can."

"You will not lose either of us tonight," I promised her. "If she was going to die, I would feel it. I would Know."

Picking up the cup, I filled it once more and walked circles around the fire. I once read about Brownie stoves. Holes dug in the earth from the top and the side so the fire did not suffocate when they slid a thin slate over the top. With no tools to dig or slate to set the cup on, that wasn't a practical solution. If Tievel were here, he could boil the water with little more than a thought.

"Morana," Astreia said.

"Just a minute," I said, clenching my eyes shut and rummaging through all the useless knowledge I possessed.

"Morana!"

"Wha–" I gasped and almost dropped the cup again. Water boiled rapidly in the tin cup, but the metal was not hot beneath my fingers.

"You know how this is happening, don't you?" I demanded as I scooped the crushed butterfly leaf into the cup to steep. "I caused the fire the other night, didn't I?"

"While I'd prefer not to think about the catalyst behind the outburst," she replied dryly, "Yes, I suspected it was you."

"How?"

"I don't know."

To my knowledge, the Warden's soul was the only one I'd ever taken, and the only elves I knew who had fire magic were the High Elves of Edresh. Could I have a mixed heritage like Yoko? My scars tingled. Had I caused the fire that damaged me?

I swirled the tea and inhaled its bright, floral odor even as I winced at the memory of its taste. Beatrice used to say if it smelled as poorly as it tasted, no one would ever ingest the first drop. "Sorry, Yoko. Turn her to the side a bit."

Pushing my finger between her lips, I pried open the soldier's gritted teeth and trickled a bit of the tea inside her mouth. When she reflexively swallowed it without choking, I repeated the process until all the tea was gone, even the bitter dregs.

The effect was visible within five minutes. Yoko's face softened, and her shallow, wheezing breaths deepened as she slipped into a healing slumber. Astreia pressed her forehead against Yoko's.

Her cheeks shimmered when she pulled away and looked at me. "Thank you."

"It only eased her pain."

"But it may be enough to make the difference. We all heal better when we're sleeping, but even if she..." She inhaled and licked her lips before shaking her head. "Even if she goes while she's sleeping, at least it is a peaceful death."

"Is she having trouble healing because she's mixed blood?"

Now that we had nothing to do until Tievel returned with help, I wanted an explanation for earlier. And Astreia seemed far more forthcoming than the prince.

She stretched out her legs and massaged her thighs. "Higher elves naturally heal faster than other races, but there are some lower elves, like Dryads, Pixies, and Sprites who excel in healing. Yoko is more Sprite than High Elf. Most of the noble families in the Sea Court are more Sprite than anything else. Lady Kaimana's great-grandfather was the last High Elf in the Sea Court to call himself pure blooded—though I have it on good authority his mother might have been a bit of a Pixie—and he died twelve centuries ago."

"Lord Loi." At least I knew that much. In the little schooling I received as a child in the palace, I learned the names of the lords and ladies of the other Courts.

"Yes. He lived so long he was half mad when he died. The Deathsinger who took his soul deserved a parade, not the hanging she received." Astreia curled a piece of Yoko's hair around her finger absentmindedly. "Kaimana's mother died six centuries ago. She was the last to carry the Blessing of a High Elf, but it was the death of her eldest son during a hunting trip that proved what many feared all along. The Blessing is in the blood. Children who are not purely High Elf will be more vulnerable to injury and illness."

Yoko convulsed, and blood bubbled from the corner of her lip. "N-n-no," the princess wailed, rolling her to the side, so she didn't choke on her blood.

She unbuckled Yoko's fighting leathers and dragged the vest over her head gently. Then she unbuttoned her blouse and hissed. A giant bruise spread from Yoko's left shoulder, below the binding, over her breasts, and across the right side of her abdomen. The removal of the constricting clothing helped. She stopped thrashing, though her breathing remained shallow and strained.

A shrill, mournful howl resounded from deep within the woods, sending shivers down my spine and making the light in Astreia's skin flare bright. Propping Yoko's head on the discarded clothing, she stood and came to my side.

"What the hell is that?"

The creature wailed again. Closer. And this time, my body's response was one of delightful awareness. The sound was not a scream but a Song. Different from my own—like a familiar melody with different words.

"Morana," Astreia warned, reaching for me as I walked to the trees in a dreamlike trance. Yoko coughed and opened her eyes. The princess ran to her, but the soldier looked at me first, then moved her gaze to the woods.

There, walking through the black, was a spectral woman dressed in rags. Rotted flesh clung to hollowed out cheeks. Stringy, knotted, dirty white hair hung down her back, and when she saw me waiting on the edge of the fire's glow, she smiled a smile of broken bits and decay.

"Sister," she crooned, crooking a skeletal finger at me. "Have you claimed that soul?"

Now that her Song no longer buzzed in my ears, unease curdled in my chest. She swung her hand wide and pointed at Yoko. A dry breath rattled in her throat.

"I smell death on that one, but if she is yours, I will go."

"Death has no claim on her," I declared, stepping between her and Yoko. "And you will go, regardless."

Two sharp clicks of bone echoed like cannon blasts as she cocked her head to the side in confusion. Behind her, the forest trembled as if coming alive, and the withered vines on trees loosened and coiled toward the wraith.

"You are one of the defectors. An unspoiled Singer."

"Sure," I replied, frost coating my hands. When the first plant lashed out—a thorn coated vine—I slashed it with a blade of ice.

"Not so unspoiled after all," she cackled, the tree branches overhead clacking together as if applauding her.

I was so focused on the shifting and creaking around me I missed a tender, new shoot breaking through the rocky soil. It rushed upward and coiled around my throat, pulling tight enough to crush my windpipe.

"Two souls tonight then," the woman said, her boney hands dancing like a marionette's over the earth. "And yours will taste the sweetest."

Dropping to my knees, I clawed at the vine, but every attempt to free myself only made it worse. Just before unconsciousness claimed me, I froze it, and I fell to the earth, drawing in lungfuls of precious air when it shattered from the sudden rush of cold.

But my last-minute victory was only a brief stay of execution. The woman booted me in the ribs, rolling me onto my back as more plants grew over me, pinning me to the ground. My strange newfound fire powers failed me, and in my growing weakness, not even my winter magic answered my call.

"Wanna make it a fourth time?" I choked out. Then louder, "I'll even say thank you!"

"Who are you talking to?" the woman demanded, an almost comical expression on her crumbling face.

White, hot starlight seared through the trees and knocked her backwards. The plants loosened and flailed as her connection broke, and I took Astreia's hand gratefully as she tugged me to my feet.

"Yes, who were you talking to??" Astreia asked, light bright in her palm as we watched the wraith struggle to rise.

With a screech that exploded the trunks of the trees