Without the intervention of the ur-viles and Waynhim, every Haruchai and Giant would already be dead, scorched lifeless by Roger’s withering magma. But acid magicks intercepted a portion of his fury; deflected a portion. And he hurled his power like a madman, too crazed for thought or care. He seemed deranged by the loss of the croyel, and therefore of Jeremiah. Cavewights who chanced to stand in his path perished. His screams echoed everywhere as if the sky were a vault, featureless and sealed.

Mahrtiir had crawled to the edge of the battle. He could no longer defend himself, and there was no one left to guard him except Bhapa. The older Cord had abandoned Covenant to Pahni. Now Bhapa stood over the Manethrall with bleak determination in his eyes and his garrote in his hands.

But at the focus of the carnage, Jeremiah stood exactly as he had stood while he was possessed, slack and vacant, with nothing that resembled awareness in his muddy gaze; as unreactive as a corpse. His whole body thronged with Earthpower, Anele’s last gift. Yet his new strength changed nothing. It did not restore his mind.

When Roger had killed everyone else, he would go after Covenant: Linden did not doubt that. Lord Foul would consider her death, and Covenant’s, a victory, if Roger did not.

Covenant’s son needed the croyel and Jeremiah. The croyel can use your kid’s talent. He’ll make us a door. A portal to eternity.—to help us become gods.

For Roger, that hope was gone. Now he would have to trust the Despiser.

It was too much. Too much. Linden could not suffer it. All of her friends. Jeremiah and Covenant. She had felt overwhelmed and frantic earlier. Now her despair had no limits.

Unable to make any other choice, she became Gallows Howe: a killing field made flesh.

In the gypsum and dirt where it had fallen, High Lord Loric’s krill still shone. Its brilliance throbbed to the beat of Joan’s madness. And she was a rightful white gold wielder. Only her abjection and turiya Raver’s mastery restricted her access to wild magic.

Linden was done with hesitation, with paralysis, with weakness. Done with humanity. Deliberately she dropped the Staff of Law at Jeremiah’s feet. Then she lifted Covenant’s ring on its chain over her head. Closing the chain in her fist, she slipped the ring onto the index finger of her right hand.

With no more preparation than that, she stooped to touch the avid gem of the krill with Covenant’s wedding band.

Long ago, she had seen him do something similar when he had needed a trigger or catalyst; a source of power to overcome his instinctive reluctance. She was not reluctant: not now. And Esmer’s influence no longer blocked her. It would never hinder her again. But she had no right to white gold. She needed help.