Something white looms before me, swaying gently in total anathema to the raging wind.

The Bone Tree.

It looks so much more frightening up close—far more massive, so tall I can barely see the top of it. The wicked claws at the ends of the branches scythe the air idly, as if they’re just waiting for someone with flesh to pass by. Varia stirs on my back, climbing off and staggering through the snow toward the Tree with an enraptured gaze.

“The Tree,” she whispers, the white of the bones gleaming in her fervid onyx eyes. Each bone is so huge, the ivory eerie in its seamless perfection. There’s a faint darkened aura around the Tree—noticeably dimmer than the high noon sunlight beating down on us from above. Valkerax bones suck in light, Fione had said. This isn’t a tree made sloppily—every bone has its place; every one fits to make the tree a titanic whole. Its spindly shadow stretches as long as the peak, and the air around it—the closer I walk to the undulating bone roots of the tree as they clack together, the heavier the air gets. It’s the same sort of feeling I used to get walking up to Nightsinger’s room, some undeniable weight to the atmosphere around me.

But this…this weight isn’t some light, ominous reminder. It is crushing. It feels as if it’s trying to grind me down into nothing.

The crown princess clambers up the rocky peak, her hands out in front of her as she walks beneath the Tree’s massive branches. I can barely hear myself panting over the howl of the wind, so I climb after her, the air pummeling my empty chest.

“Your Highness,” I shout. “I brought you to the Tree. It’s time you hand over my heart!”

She doesn’t move an inch, her gaze fixed on the bones of the trunk, her hand hovering just above as if she’s afraid to touch it.

“Varia!” I shout, pulling at her arm. There’s an immediate sizzling sound in the air, and just over my shoulder bursts a flash of light and an intense heat. I fling myself backward, but the burning doesn’t go away, and my eyes find my cloak. A lick of black witchfire blazes on it, smoldering over the wet wool. Did she try to burn me?

I reach out and grab her arm again.

“My heart,” I insist, steeling my mind for another shock of flame. But nothing comes. The branches of the Bone Tree merely sway above us, the creaking sound identical to the creaking of ancient wood. My shoulder burns, the fire gnawing through my layers and down to my skin, but I hold fast to the princess.

“My heart!”