“What do you mean?” Croi regains some sense of self, some measure of anger, and breathes deeply.

Have you forgotten? She didn’t let you touch fire ever. She went as far as to make you give her your word to never play with fire in the human city. Because she knew the fire would join our halves into one, even if only for a brief period.

Croi thinks of her last few minutes with the Hag, then sneers. “Does her knowing surprise you? She has already betrayed us.”

I loved her just like you did.

Croi feels the wetness on her cheeks and hides her face. First the Hag, then Caolan. Who will betray her next? The pixie? The fae prince? What is life when all your memories are tinged with pain? When your hours complete themselves on your ability to endure hurt?

We can’t give up. Not yet. We have to find the kin who halved us. We have to hurt them as much as we are hurting. I refuse to give up like this. You owe me this.

Croi closes her eyes, acknowledging the truth in her other self’s words, and continues enduring.

When she opens her eyes again, it is full dark. A small fire is burning in front of her, and when she sits up, she sees several small fires flickering merrily around the clearing. The kidnapped kin, having been freed, are sitting around these fires, which often have meat sizzling above them. All signs point to them recovering their spirits as they wait for the food to be ready.

“Are you there?” Croi reaches for her other self and sits up, wincing as pain lances through her chest.

Yes.

Croi breathes out, comforted. She takes inventory of her aches and finds that her head feels heavier than it used to. She raises a hand to touch her head, and some of her hair falls forward. Frowning, she gathers her hair and brings it to the front. It grew from her shoulders all the way to below her waist. The color also changed from a muddy brown to gold, red, and brown. Croi braids it with aching fingers.

“What should I do next?” she asks her inner self.

You gave our word to the dryad to get her SoulSeed to Talamh Caisleán.

“That was the only way to break the summoning spell, you know that,” Croi grumbles.

Go look for the pack. I don’t want to be living stone.

Croi attempts to get to her feet but fails, so she sits back, trying to muster up energy for another attempt. Her movements attract attention, and soon the pixie flies over.

“You’re awake!” Tinder’s bright voice startles Croi. The pixie is flitting up and down in the air in front of her, a worried look on her face. “Are you… all right?”

Instead of answering, Croi looks at the fae called Ceara who is standing a safe distance behind Tinder. Accompanying her is the dark soldier who tried to defend her from Croi. They are both staring at her with complex gazes that she doesn’t care to decipher.