I take a moment before I say anything to let them know I’m here. To just admire them, admire the fact they’re here for me when I wake up. That they’re still here at all, alive and well enough to sit on a beach even after a valkerax attack.

Brave Malachite, armor stained slightly red—bloodied and then tried to wash it off. He’ll be fine, won’t he? He’ll protect Lucien, no matter what. No matter how old they get or how much they argue—he’ll always be there for the prince. And I’ll never be able to thank him enough for it.

Sweet Fione—wrapped in a woven blanket and trembling, her mousy curls still frazzled with the chaos of battle. She’s stronger than even Lucien, than anyone I know. She’ll understand better than anyone that I did what I had to. She understands love. And she, too, understands what it’s like to be alone. She’ll do great things for Cavanos—whatever grand, fair Cavanos Lucien decides to build.

Serious Lucien. Lucien, in all his midnight glory, black hair and black eyes piercing out into the night. It hurts to think about him alone. But he won’t be. He’ll have Malachite and Fione, and someday, a girl who reminds him of me. A girl who can pierce that dour, sad look on his face, who sweetens the bitterness of his life. He’ll never be alone. He’ll have me, no matter where I am or what happens to me. I’ll be with him, always. I know that now. The Tree of Souls—that strange thing that’s kept calling to me, giving me dreams—it connects us all. And even if it didn’t, by magic or by my own sheer will—I’ll be with him until the very end.

Because I love him.

With a great wrench, I pull myself together. When Lucien touches me, he’ll read my thoughts. I can’t think about anything. And certainly not about what I have to do, what I saw in that locus of perfect understanding. He’ll try to stop me if he knows. They all will. This is my choice.

So how do I keep it mine?

A wolf to eat the world, Evlorasin’s words drip in.

That’s it. If I think about it like a poem, like Evlorasin and all valkerax do—it will sound like nonsense, and not a plan going against his concern for me. It’s not to put the Trees back together. It’s to eat the world. I am the wolf, and I eat the world. There. Nonsensical. Perfect. A perfect mantra.

Armed with it, I clear my throat. “Ahem. Why so pensive, children?”

All three black silhouettes on the sand round instantly, the bonfire melting gold across their tense, worried faces.

“You’re back!” Fione chimes, smile blooming in relief.