I don’t want to.

“You’re my familiar, right? In theory that means you don’t have the choice.”

I could drop you.

“Yes, but I’d like you to do it gently. Look—I think the wings are the gathering of the life force of mortals Azoria somehow stole. I kind of hoped they’d be released—but I don’t know what that would mean in this place.”

And Azoria’s name might be likewise absorbed. You do not understand what you are seeing.

“I know we don’t want that. Not if it’s somehow still attached. She’s a murderer several times over. If she’s not stopped, that will continue forever.” Probably literally forever. She lifted an arm; her marks circled it, like a moving, layered bracelet. “And I think I can get their attention.”

And if you have Their attention, what will you do with it? Will you surrender the marks of the Chosen in their entirety?

“That wasn’t my intent.”

Your intent might matter very little.

“I’m used to that. Put me down.”

I will, when the transformation is complete.

“Transformation?”

The outlands are responding to the will of this being, just as they would to the Hallionne. Watch, if you can, without talking.

Hope was right. He almost always was, which was the kind of extremely helpful that could also be annoying. Fog rose, and rose again, changing color and texture: pillars of something pale, by the dozen, reached for what passed for sky in the outlands. The sky itself shifted color as they rose, as if persistent gray was as much part of the outlands as the ground fog; gray gave way to a deep azure—the ideal of a cloudless, perfect day. In the distance, stars emerged in great numbers, as if they were accessories to the radiance of this single being.

No walls rose between pillars, but the ground became paneled wood beneath his feet, and the wood did not instantly become ash. There was a moon in the sky, low and bright, but no other light was necessary; the being shed it continuously, as if they meant to be living sun to the moon’s light.

Trees grew last, but grew tallest. Kaylin, not a botanist, didn’t recognize them. She thought it likely that Serralyn might, but Terrano couldn’t bespeak her from whatever this place was becoming.

Only when the trees’ branches began to bud and blossom did this being turn their attention to Kaylin. Hair rose in tendrils, as if they were fingers, but they fell short of the trees that had grown like forest. The only place the trees didn’t touch was the space in which Kaylin and her companions hovered.

“Come. I would speak with you, Chosen.” Even at this distance, his words were clear, and there was nothing that implied he’d raised it to cover the distance.