Fingers had been severed from their right hands in his name; but he did not want that honor.

Branl’s eyes widened. Clyme almost appeared to wince. But Galt did not hesitate.

“Then I will ride to Revelstone,” he announced inflexibly, “that I may warn the Masters of the Chosen’s Desecration. Clyme and Branl will remain with her to prevent further evil. Your ring will be returned to you. If you do not claim the Staff of Law, it will be conveyed to Revelstone, where it may be preserved for the Land’s last defense.”

Liand opened his mouth to protest. Mahrtiir’s glower promised defiance. The Ranyhyn tossed their heads restively. But Linden did not appear to hear the Humbled. She stared at Covenant as though he filled her with horror that had no end.

“Then listen,” Covenant told Galt with as much force as he could find in his riven spirit. “And pay attention. I can only say this once.

“The Wraiths allowed her. They preserve Andelain, and they allowed her. Hellfire, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Shedding memories like pieces of his soul, he met Linden’s appalled stare.

“Linden.” Nearly undone by weakness and rue—by the numbness in his fingers and the frailty of his mind—he strained to make himself heard. “I’ve said it before. I know this is hard. I know you think you’ve come to the end of what you can do. But you aren’t done. And I trust you. Do you hear me? I believe in you. I’ll do everything I can to help. If there’s anything left—”

Linden flinched as though he had promised her the opposite of his intent. On her face, new hurts twisted against older shocks and chagrin. “Can you see it?” she asked Liand or Mahrtiir or Stave. Her voice throbbed like internal bleeding, as if she spoke with her heart’s blood. “He’s right. He can’t hold on. Something inside him is collapsing. I brought him back, but I didn’t do it right. He isn’t whole.

“And he has leprosy.”

To that, Covenant had no answer.

Already falling, he turned back to the Humbled.

“As for you. I command—” His voice frayed and failed: he could not command anyone. But because he loved Linden, he managed to find a few more words. They felt like the last words in the world. “She’s more important than I am. If you have to choose, choose her. She’s the only one who can do this.”

He wanted to say more, but his wounds were too much for his mortal flesh. Within him, one age of the Earth bled into another, and he toppled to the grass as if he had been felled.

2.

Unfinished Needs

Linden Avery stood, staring and paralyzed, as if she had finally learned the true meaning of horror. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the outcome of her granite desperation. Long ago, she had been forced to watch her father’s suicide: in fear and pity, she had imposed her mother’s death: she had seen Thomas Covenant stabbed to death in his former world—and later slain again by the Despiser. A Raver had taught her to dread her own capacity for evil. Under Melenkurion Skyweir, she had been forced to do battle against her chosen son. But such things had become trivial. They were too small and human to inure her now.