Do not fear, her unicorn said. We are here to stay. We will seek out all those suffering from wraith-burn and will heal them.

She stood behind Claire, and Claire was aware of her solid warmth as she leaned back into the creature. The unicorn lowered her head and rested it on Claire’s shoulder. Again, Claire felt joy and courage flow through her, but this time, they were tempered by something else, which made the emotions less fierce and more soft—comfortable, even. Peaceful.

Claire turned and threw her arms around the unicorn’s arched neck. “We did it,” Claire whispered fiercely into the mane. “We did it.”

“Purr-ka!” At the sound of the familiar chirp, Claire let go of the unicorn and looked up. Gryphin was soaring in the air, making dizzying loops, as though marking the spot where Claire stood. Claire looked down the path to see people spilling out of the Citadel.

Claire brought the spyglass to her eye. Spinners danced with Tillers while Forgers dropped their weapons and stared in awe at the flick of tails rushing down the mountains. Gemmers, meanwhile, stood in family groups, a little bit shy as they studied the new wall. Adjusting the lens slightly, Claire saw the spotted face of a Tiller scribe chatting animatedly with a Forger apprentice who wore pigtails, while next to them, she saw the familiar face of Master Pumus bending down to help a Spinner collect the ribbons she’d thrown into the air in celebration.

But it wasn’t until Claire turned the spyglass onto the path leading upward, toward the higher peaks, that she found who she was looking for. A grin broke across her face as she realized Gryphin had been successful in relaying his message.

“It’s Nett and Sena! And Thorn!” Claire said. “They’re running toward us! And so is Kleo! And Lyric and Lapis and—and everyone!”

Grandmaster Carnelian rode Lixoon, while Mathieu and Sylvia carefully led the chimera up the narrow path. And behind them, finally, Aunt Nadia!

She was slow, however, and Claire worried that her aunt was injured, but then she saw she was helping a smaller woman with thick gray hair and rosy cheeks make her way up the path. And behind them walked Mistress Weft and Scythe, each one holding the arm of a taller man across their shoulder. The man moved stiffly, as though he’d forgotten how legs were supposed to work, but the double-headed battle-ax across his back gleamed as bright as ever.

“It’s Anvil and Aquila!” Claire shouted, lowering the spyglass in delighted surprise. “But how?”

When we asked stones to move, you also asked the rock in other things to waken, too. Everyone Estelle rubified should be back to who they were, a little stiff but otherwise all right.