A spot of light blooms against the darkness, a pale purple glow clutched in a robed hand. The moss above the wall I wake up near every time—that’s the same cluster. The light reveals a tall person in a robe. They hold up the moss, advancing into the darkness and toward the valkerax and me without hesitation.

“Who are—”

“Varia,” I hear Yorl say shakily. “You didn’t inform me you were coming.”

“I am not beholden to inform you of everything, Yorl, just most things.” Varia’s voice echoes calmly around the arena. The crown princess stops right in front of the valkerax, not an inch of fear in her regal posture. The great white wyrm winces back at the hazy glow of the moss.

It’s the first time I’ve seen the valkerax still and lit up—the mosslight flickering over its gigantic wolflike head brightest and getting dimmer at the serpentine neck traced by its thick white mane. Evlorasin’s two seemingly infinite whiskers undulate like gentle rivers, its fangs serrated and nipping over its lips. Its scales are battle-hardened, scarred and dented with a thousand years—more?—worth of living. With the mosslight, I can even see thick white eyelashes, like a deer’s, around its five pale-moon eyes, it’s injured sixth socket scabbed and scarred.

Varia looks to me, the darkness in her hood making her expression unreadable. “You will translate the following for me, Zera.”

I start, clearing my throat. “A-All right.”

The crown princess of Cavanos looks back to the valkerax and begins, my mouth moving a beat after hers.

“Evlorasin,” Varia says. “I am the Laughing Daughter.”

“Yes.” Evlorasin sways its head. “We know this.”

I repeat its words, my own voice feeling somehow small all of a sudden.

“I have done this thing,” Varia says, gesturing around at the arena. “I have orchestrated all of this to free you.”

I see Evlorasin curl its lips over its teeth, but it says nothing.

“You will Weep,” Varia continues. “And you will tell me where the Bone Tree is.”

“The Tree of Bone,” Evlorasin hisses. “Great branches singing in many places at once. The roots of all evil. The beginning of the end for the Old Vetrisians.”

The beginning of the end. I know what it means by that now.

“Yes,” Varia says, impatience creeping ever so slightly into her voice. “When the song is dull, you will tell me where it’s coming from. I will have the Tree.”

For the first time ever, I hear Evlorasin burst out in response. It’s a burst, to be sure—forceful rancid air blasting out from its maw, its lips curled back and showing all of its multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth. Its tongue lolls out of its mouth, long and forked, and it makes a panting motion. Laughter.

“The Laughing Daughter knows not what she wants.”