“Now you are thrice a Desecrator, Wildwielder!” Her voice might have been a bitter snarl, but it was tuned to the pitch of beauty and jewels, and every word soared, accompanied by chimes in perfect harmony. “Rousing the Worm, you have doomed all that is precious within the bounds of Time. Acceding to the Harrow, you have bestirred slumbering havoc, avid for horrors beyond comprehension. Yet here you surpass yourself.”

Linden glared in response. No doubt she should have been daunted; but she was not. Jeremiah was building—She was eager to see what he would achieve: too eager to flinch or falter.

“By all that your paltry heart deems holy, Wildwielder!” Infelice was a carillon of vehemence. She seemed to assail Linden with song and majesty. And she had placed herself between Linden and Jeremiah. “Releasing the boy from the toils of the croyel—That indeed was well done—and no deed of yours. Likewise the Harrow’s death was well done, and no deed of yours. But now you enable ruin incarnate. You should not have heeded the Ranyhyn. They have brought you to this place of death, intending dire atrocity.”

Linden’s eyes widened, but not in dismay. The flagrant indignation of the Elohim meant nothing to her. Death! she thought, sudden as an epiphany. Bones. For which her need—no, Jeremiah’s need—was great.

Somehow the Insequent had foreseen this. In their own way, the Ranyhyn had foreseen it. And that flash of insight released Linden’s heart.

It contradicted the harsh logic of despair.

With music and consternation, Infelice proclaimed, “If you preserve this vile boy, you will cause eternal woe.”

Vile boy? Inspired by revelation, Linden aimed her Staff at Infelice to show the Elohim that she was ready for battle. The need for death was Jeremiah’s, not hers—and he already lived in graves. If nothing of hers could restore him, perhaps he would be able to resurrect himself with bones.

“Listen to me.” Linden pronounced each word as if she were articulating the significance of her love. “I’m only going to warn you once. If you lift so much as a finger against my son, I’ll do whatever it takes to stop you.”

With her whole heart, she willed Infelice to believe her.

“I’ll call up so much Earthpower that it makes another Landsdrop.” In some sense, the Elohim were embodied Earthpower. Surely Infelice could be harmed by her own form of life? “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll use Covenant’s ring.

“I’m not its rightful wielder. I’m told that I can’t actually destroy the Arch. But I can still hurt you. There’s a reason that you’re so afraid of wild magic. I think it’s because you don’t have any defense. Try me, and I’ll burn you until there’s nothing left.”