I let out a breath, my gaze flicking to the horizon as I consider how to answer her question. “To be honest… no one really knows why halflings have that gift. We’ve only observed that souls born in the mortal realm and brought here have a stronger tie to the magic in this place. So it’s safe to assume your ability has everything to do with your lineage. However, we do know this place and all the magic flowing within it comes from the welwigs.”

“The trees?” she asks, her lips parting in shock. “The fucking trees?”

“No need to get so worked up about it,” I murmur, a silent chuckle shaking my chest. “And yes. They’re the… gods of this world, if you want to think of it like that. Everything in The Far Place begins and ends with those cursed trees—a giant, frozen, fucked-up circle of life. They feed the land, create the beings, drive us to hunger… no one knows how or why, only that they do.”

“That’s… ominous.”

I nod solemnly. “But they also provide us with drugs, so I have a soft spot for them.”

“Well… at least that makes sense.”

A chuckle shakes my chest as I look into her eyes, so warm and tender and different from the way I’m used to her staring at me. “Any other burning questions?”

“I think I’m good for now.”

“In that case…” I turn my attention toward the four demons burning a hole into my profile, a taunting smile pulling at my mouth. “Perhaps I should let Fenryr take you for a small rest. Just for the rest of the day. I see that look on your face.” I know deep down she wants to keep going, to train and fight until she physically can’t move anymore, but I also cannot allow her to push herself to that point. “We’ll start first thing tomorrow when the others return from their hunt. Deal?”

“Okay,” she murmurs, her gaze narrowing. “But not a minute later.”

22. Roark

22

Roark

“No. Go again.”

Dagny’s chest heaves with her frantic breath as she wipes her brow with the back of her forearm, her gaze unfocused and knees wobbling from the sheer effort she’s put into today’s session. Her lips pinch in a frown as she pushes her arms out, her palms flat and raised in the direction of Mor’s snarling form as Malice watches on, a tinge of pride shining from his cruel red eye.

Several sun flips have passed, and while Dagny has made excellent progress in the minimal time we’ve been training, she’s clearly hit a plateau. She’s had zero problems harnessing her magic to create large blasts of energy, but forcing it to bend to her will has proven more difficult than any of us imagined.