“Perhaps.” She nods, gathering my hair gently back as I retch again. “I know in Qessen a witch having a Heartless is seen as crude and barbaric. Or so Varia told me. In Helkyris, Heartless are almost exclusively used for all kinds of polymath experimentation. Paid of course, though that hardly makes it better. Cavanos is the only place where Heartlessness is prized as a tool of war.” She thinks, and then says, “Out of necessity.”

I steel my throat. “I’m starting to think none of it is a necessity.”

There’s a long unsilence as the sea rasps and I rasp, and in a quiet lull Fione finally says, “You mean the trees. Destroying them.”

I only manage to nod, but it’s enough for her. She lets out a sigh.

“I’ve thought of that, too. But the consequences—they’re too wildly unpredictable. Presumably the valkerax would be free—”

“I could talk to them,” I blurt. “Through Evlorasin.”

“True,” she agrees. “But coming to peaceful diplomacy with them could take years. And in that time, they’d run free. With the added ability to fly, now—which means to more than just the Mist Continent. That’s why the High Witches were so upset with you. Not because you gave the Bone Tree to Varia but because you taught one to fly. And one valkerax means more very quickly, apparently.”

We shudder collectively as the sea wind blows, slicing over our grim faces. The idea of these skies being cut across by valkerax, forging new paths into unknown territories—all the stories of Old Vetris, all the myths and legends. Would it start all over? Would it be war, forever? The exact opposite of what any of us wants—the exact opposite of what Varia wants, too. Wanted, at least, before the Bone Tree overwhelmed her. I straighten, the bout of sickness passing at last.

“Destroying the Glass Tree won’t make the New God’s religion go away,” Fione insists. “It will just take away the Heartless. And without Heartless, the witches of Cavanos would be exposed to Kavar’s believers.”

“I know that.”

“You’re willing to put them at risk? And to put the whole world at risk of the valkerax? All at the same time?”

“I—” I clench my fist. “I dunno. All I know, in my deepest heart in that bag, is that something has to change. It can’t keep going on like this—magic can’t be used to keep living things hostage anymore.”

Fione’s silent, and Malachite take that as his cue to butt in, long ear tips bobbing.

“You two look minister-serious. What’s the occasion?”

“The fate of the world,” I chirp.

“Ah.” He nods. “Real important stuff. Well, whatever it is, you either do it or you don’t, right? Right. Now come fight me.”

Next to me, Fione bristles. “It’s not that simple—”