“What did you learn?” she asked, a hand on my shoulder as she continued to keep herself steady. I noticed without it, she was swaying slightly as if in an invisible breeze.

I sighed. Out of all the people I could tell this information to first, Diaval would most likely be the least judgmental. Not to mention soon Soren would need to know, because if Lydian was right—then, well, we had to do something.

It hadn’t hit the me side of me. I was still in stag mode, my emotions there but sort of dull, mute, cut off from me as if they were behind a thick fog or glass. Was this how it was for Soren all the time? I wasn’t sure. But the information hadn’t hit those emotions yet, the mantle of the stag clouded them, focused my mind on one thing only: my duty to the Permafrost.

I told Diaval and watched her expression as it barely changed at all. Once or twice, she nodded to herself, but other than that, nothing. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. Finally, she spoke. “This … complicates things,” she said.

I snorted. “You think?”

“Soren’s gonna pitch a fit.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. That was not going to go well, no matter how I managed it. “Thanks for the encouragement. I was going to tell him everything in the morning.”

She hmmed before speaking again. “You seem strangely calm for all of this.”

Nodding, I brushed off some nonexistent dust from my pants. “I’m compartmentalizing, I think. It’s like the stag half of my brain has taken over, it’s not allowing for emotions other than knowing this is fucked up but I have a duty to the world anyway. I’m sure as soon as the human half takes over, I’ll be a blubbering mess somewhere lost deep in my trauma.”

The words came out sardonically, but they were close to the truth. I wasn’t entirely sure when this whole stag-focused mindset would wear off, but when it did, I knew I was going to be a wreck. I knew what I had to do, but that didn’t mean the human side of me liked it or could process it.