That explains how Zerra saw us in the village and why she stopped attacking when Nadir and I moved away from Tristan and the Crown. And also why she could see me when I carried only the ark of Alluvion—it wasn’t enough to hide me. I think about the Aurora Keep, made entirely of virulence. Was Herric trying to hide from her?

“Interacting with the surface also weakens her,” my mother adds. “In fact, it’s extremely difficult for her to do so, especially now. So it may be some time before she can act again, which is why you must move swiftly.”

I groan and lean back, staring at the sky, wondering how everything got so royally fucked-up. Then I look at my mother, who watches me carefully.

“What if she succeeds?” I ask.

“Then the land will continue to react, growing worse and worse unless the Empyrium return to choose another. She is becoming too weak.”

“And we have no idea when they’ll be back,” I say, and my mother takes my hand and squeezes it. “Is there any way to avoid becoming Zerra when they do return? I don’t want this. If I manage to destroy the arks, then I want to go home.”

My mother shakes her head, her lips pressing together. “Amara confirms it must be a king, a queen, or a Primary. Only they will have the strength to act as the conduit for the Artefacts. But only you can save Heart, which is why she sent me.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I consider that. If it must be a ruler or a Primary, that leaves only a handful of people in Ouranos for the job. And I can’t ask anyone else to shoulder this burden for me. I can’t even tell anyone this. If Tristan or Nadir knew, they might try to take it on themselves to save me, and I could never live with that.

“So the Artefacts want me to somehow do both?” I ask. “Satisfy the Empyrium and save Heart?”

My mother grimaces. “Or find another way.”

“But you can’t tell me what that might be?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I’m sorry.”

I bark out a wry laugh and then drop my head in my hands before I look up.

“Can’t I just stay here with you forever?”

She gives me a soft smile. “While I would like that very much, I don’t think it’s possible.” She takes my hand. “Besides, your brother and sister need you.”

“I wish they could see you too.”

“So do I,” she says with such sadness that my heart twists.

“Tristan is a Primary,” I say. “Of The Woodlands.”

“So perhaps I’ll see him someday.”

I open my mouth to tell her that I don’t want to leave.

“And your mate,” my mother says. “He needs you too.”