“What happens if I don’t?” My fist clenches against the rough surface of the Artefact, bracing for the answer.

Then we will have no choice but to disperse the magic of Heart throughout the continent, allowing it to meld with the power of the other realms. The Crown will crumble to dust, its magic lost forever, and Heart and its people will become only a memory. The longer we delay, the harder it becomes. We are running out of time. You must act soon.

I swallow hard.

There can be no other, Heart Queen. We are here at your disposal.

“Why are you helping me?”

Our job has always been to protect Ouranos’s magic, and we do not hold you responsible for your grandmother’s mistakes.

My throat knots up at those words. Why am I getting emotional over the sentiments of a giant enchanted object? Though, it’s clear they’re so much more than that.

While the continent can exist without the magic of Heart, Ouranos was created with seven realms, and it is our desire to see it restored.

My tongue feels numb, and a pinch shoots between my eyebrows as more pieces lock into place. Technically, my existence isn’t necessary, and the Empyrium have other plans for me. If I don’t take the Heart Crown, then they all die, and if I don’t take the place of Zerra, then all of Ouranos is in danger.

The knowledge makes me feel both disposable and indispensable in the same breath.

Regardless, I came here to get my mate back. That is my first task. Then I’ll figure out the rest. Or go down trying, I guess.

“I need the ark of Alluvion. I can’t accomplish any of this without the ark. Do you know where it is?” I ask. When I schemed to talk to Coral, I only wanted to ask about the ark. I’ve already received so much more than I could have imagined, but I’m praying she knows where to find it.

I can show you.

“You would do that?” I breathe, almost ready to collapse in relief.

If that’s what you require. My king does not need or use it.

“Please, tell me where it is.”

The scene around me melts away and then I’m looking at the throne from a different angle. The perspective shifts, zeroing in on one of the tide pools inset into the floor. I’m frantically studying the gently rippling surface when something glints in the light, and there I see it—the sparkle of virulence nestled between the rocks and coral.

Then I’m flung from the scene and find myself standing inside Coral’s tank.

I spin around to find Bain watching me.

“What happened? You were in a trance,” he says. “Did she speak to you?”

“Yes,” I say, taking in his hopeful expression.

“What did she say?”