I’m not sure which is more powerful, her anger or her sorrow, but it makes no difference. Both cut just as deeply. Every part of me wants to reach out to her, to turn around and go back to the lair and pretend the end isn’t approaching, but I know I can’t. If I do that, if I abandon this fight, if I refuse to make this sacrifice… my mate will die.

Cut to the left. My voice travels down the bond the seven of us share, directing them deeper into Slaine’s territory. Make sure to keep above the cloud line. His scouts will be everywhere the closer we get to the forest.

The others nod in an affirmative, and we continue gliding through the air, heading slightly toward the left and into the heart of Slaine’s lands, where the oldest known welwigs reside—and where I buried Abaddon’s heart twenty-one years ago.

A few hours later, we come across the forest—a circular grove dotting the barren landscape no larger than a mile in diameter, densely packed with hundreds of the ancient trees. I gesture to the small clearing in the center of the forest, nearly hidden from view by the clusters of branches and dripping leaves forming the tightly packed canopy. We float slowly toward the ground, passing through the small space between the trees one by one and keeping watch for Slaine’s soldiers.

As soon as we land on the ice, I’m overcome by a rush of wild, pulsing energy. It whips against my skin, thrumming through the air and the ground beneath my feet, the swirling tendrils reaching, searching. It’s not a pleasant feeling, and I can’t help but think the welwigs are unhappy with Dagny’s presence. Perhaps it’s because she has access to their largest, most ancient stores of magic. Perhaps they’re worried she’ll sap it dry. Perhaps they dislike the fact that she exists at all.

“Follow me,” I murmur, tugging Dagny deeper into the forest. The others follow suit, their eyes scanning the shadows for threats as we move toward the center—where the heart is.

It also happens to be right next to an arachnyx horde, but as long as we stay utterly silent, we’ll be able to avoid detection⁠—

“Ow! My fucking toe!”

I whip around, my mouth falling in disbelief as I take in Cyprien’s pinched expression, mouth still partially opened from his outburst.

Are you fucking kidding me? I scream into his mind. I told you to be quiet! One thing—one—and you can’t muster the barest morsel of willpower to shut your hole for five minutes! I gesture around the barren landscape, my face purpling from the amount of rage I’m holding inside. What in the fuck could you have stubbed it on?