“I would imbue you with my own strength, my own power,” Elysse said. “And you would keep your moonstone on you. You would survive the fall, though you would lose most of your blood along the way. But my magic can sustain you long enough for you to reach the ground, where your own magic will replenish. You can keep the tether strong. Keep the planet healthy. The planet is always at its strongest when a Cerulean is on it, remember? Keep us in one place, keep us safe. Could you do that, Wyllin? Are you brave enough, and willing? I know what I ask of you, my dearest friend. If I could do it myself, I would. But I cannot abandon my people, not now, not when hope is only just beginning to blossom in this City again. They need me, do you see?”

And Wyllin did see—this City was broken. To suffer the loss of its leader would be a devastating blow, one that it might not recover from.

“I see,” she said, rising and trying to find her courage. “And I accept.”

The scene dissolved and they were back below the City and Wyllin was dragging Elysse out of a stalactite, her prayer robe sticking to her skin, her breath coming out in shallow pants.

“Are you all right?” Wyllin cried. “Oh, Elysse, speak to me.”

Elysse opened her eyes, but it was not Wyllin’s face she gazed at.

“Look,” she croaked.

Wyllin turned and saw a golden fruit had blossomed among the green and pink vines surrounding the cone of moonstone. She gasped and the fruit fell to the ground with a plop.

“You must . . . eat,” Elysse said, her words faintly slurred.

“How much magic did you take from yourself?” Wyllin demanded.

Elysse’s smile was blurry. “Enough. My strength will return. I know it. Give me time.” She turned her head toward the fruit. “But you must eat.”

With trembling hands, Wyllin picked up the fruit and took a bite. A wild gasp escaped her lips—it tasted like blackberries and honey, like the sound of her green mother’s lute, like moonlight on the leaves of an apple tree. Wyllin felt herself fill with an exquisite power unlike any she had ever known and it thrilled her and terrified her in equal measure.

And then she was in the Night Gardens, standing on the glass dais, and Elysse was cutting the skin on the insides of her elbows with the ancient iron knife. Wyllin’s heart stuttered but she steeled herself. Her people needed her, even if they did not know it. She had taken her moonstone out of its setting and hidden it in the pocket of her robe so the Cerulean would not know she kept it with her. She was grateful for it, for its warmth, for its connection to the City.