‘No,’ Sofika says. ‘I mean you.’ She lifts her slender hands. ‘Come closer.’

I glance at Ravara, and she nods. I step forward and allow Sofika to put her hands on my face. The instant of contact makes my scars burn. It makes the room melt away, and Ravara with it. Memories blizzard around me, good and bad. I see my mother’s smile, and the storyscrolls she would read to me. I see my first days training with Adelynn in echoing stone halls. I see myself battle alongside Ashava on a world of red earth and storms. I hear songs, and prayers. I see Isidora burn on the Contemplation, and see Qi-Oh’s face contorted in anger as she walks away from me in the Vow’s underdecks. I see the crowds surround me in the training hall-turned-refuge, all reaching for me and whispering.

Evangeline. Evangeline.

I see a darkening sky. A roiling storm. Ninety-nine steps. White feathers, turning in the wind. A pair of crossed hands in the shape of the aquila, covered in blood. A solitary candle, burning in the darkness. I hear screams and smell fire and then I see it. The Shield of Saint Katherine, its glory surrounded by coiling shadows. By fangs and by burning eyes.

Are you ready?

The question echoes all around me, formed not just from Adelynn’s voice, but from many. I draw my sword and push forwards into the shadows, cutting them down. Putting out their blazing eyes. They hiss and recoil and break apart, greying me with ashes and with dust. But they cannot stop me. They will not stop me. I reach out towards the Shield and catch sight of myself reflected in its golden surface. I am bright, just as Sofika said. Ablaze.

Evangeline, say the whispers as my fingertips graze the metal. Evangeline.

‘Evangeline.’

My eyes snap open and I see Ravara’s face. She is crouching in front of me, because I am on my knees.

‘What did you see?’ she says urgently.

I tell her everything. Everything but the question. If Sofika notices the omission, she keeps it to herself.

‘Crossed hands,’ Ravara says. ‘In my dreams of you, I saw a vast stone hall, decorated with crossed hands.’

She smiles. Not faintly, but broadly. It seems as much like meeting her for the first time as the change in her voice did, earlier.

‘Can you stand?’ Ravara asks.

Stand, Evangeline.

‘Yes,’ I say, and I get to my feet unsteadily and look at Sofika. There is a dark line of blood tracking its way from her nose. ‘How did you do that?’ I ask. ‘Make me see those things.’

‘I didn’t,’ Sofika says, as Ravara takes a cloth and wipes the blood from under her nose. ‘All that you saw was already within you. You already have the answer.’

I flinch. ‘What did you say?’