I can't do this, she thought. I can't keep going. I don't know how to lead all these people, how to find them a new home, how to stop my father, how to seal the Abyss, how to become a leader, a savior, a mother, how to heal the pain inside me. It's too much, and I'm too small, too weak.

She looked up at the sky, blinked her tears away, and saw them far above—the Draco stars, the dragon of the sky.

"Please, stars of Requiem. If you can hear me, and if your light truly blesses me, help me. I'm frightened." Her voice shook. "Help me."

The stars shone, distant and cold, unreachable as always. Issari stared, feeling as if they too had left her like her son. Both her belly and soul were hollow.

Light flashed above.

A comet streaked across the sky.

Issari gasped and rose to her feet.

The comet fell, blazed with blue fire, then thinned into a pale white line. It flashed down toward her, and a small stone, no larger than an egg, slammed down at her feet. It lay there, glowing white, a shard of star.

Her right hand closed around Taal's amulet. She reached down and, with her left hand, lifted the comet.

She gasped. It blazed against her skin, and she tried to drop it but could not. The light shone from her hand, silvery starlight, as the shard melted and reformed in her palm, embedding into her.

The light faded to a soft glow. Issari raised her left hand and stared at her palm. The star pulsed there, a twin to the amulet in her right hand.

She looked up at the sky.

"Thank you," she whispered.

She had been blessed by Taal, and now by the Draco stars. One hand connected her to the silver god, to Eteer, to her coastal home, and the other would forever bind her to Requiem. Forever would she be torn between two worlds, forever blessed.

She was no longer frightened. She no longer felt alone.

She returned to her tent. Tanin still slept, and Issari crept back into her bed, and she pulled his arm across her again, and she too slept.

JEID

 
JEID

"Bryn!" he shouted as the tunnel caved in below him. "Bryn!"

He had caught a last look at her eyes, a last flicker of her fire, and then the walls had caved in, burying her. Smoke blasted out. The mountain shifted and shook. Boulders tumbled and the slopes sank down, rearranging themselves, sealing most of the sphinxes in a tomb of stone—along with Bryn.

A handful of sphinxes still flew above the mountain. Jeid torched one and Dorvin took down another. A swarm of dragons flew toward the last few sphinxes, blasted their fire, and the creatures fell.

The battle was over.