Tension rises in Yvan’s and my shared fire and I turn to him. His eyes flash gold as our gazes meet, a hot, upending shiver racing down my spine. His throat tightens and he looks away and rises, along with Jules and Lucretia and me, all of us aiding Kam Vin in holding the skiff flush with the rocky embankment so Ni Vin and Sage can secure it with chains of stone-fusing runes.

Ra’Ven extends his emerald-patterned hand to me and I take it, his grip strong as he hoists me onto the ledge, Yvan’s heat shimmering against my back as he follows close behind.

Finding my footing, I grip Sage’s shoulder in hasty greeting.

“I knew the Wand would lead you here,” Sage says to me, her tone suffused with the enormity of it all. “It came to me in dreams. Do you have it still?”

I nod, angling my head toward where the Wand is sheathed in my boot’s side. “I do,” I assure her. “It’s given me perfect aim with weaponry.”

“And soon, you’ll be able to wield it,” she states with calm authority.

“Were you told of Vogel’s ability to strike down most runes?” I ask, urgency rising. “And his incursion into my fastlines?”

“Trystan told us everything.” Her gaze flits from Yvan to me as I scan her intensely violet form—her tunic covered in a kaleidoscope of glowing, linked runes from a multitude of runic systems that have all taken on a purple tint, as if demurring to the potency of her light magery. Her wand is hewn from plum-hued wood like my cousin Or’myr’s, a series of slim runic styluses sheathed at her hip, along with a formidable-looking runic blade.

But her hands.

Piercing concern knifes through me to find Sage’s broken-fasting wounds still so very much present. If anything, they look worse than they did the last time I saw her. I note the delicate chains of what I assume are pain-dampening runes draped over her hands and wrists, and wonder if she’s still in constant agony but inured to it by now.

“Pull up the sleeve to your wand hand, Elloren,” Sage directs as she unsheathes a glowing green rune stylus. “I need to temporarily shut down the connection between your wand hand and your bound power. Or when we send unbinding spells through you, we could inadvertently explode both you and the sublands. This rune needs to be placed immediately—it’s going to take close to an hour to charge.”

Nervous anticipation ripples through my fire power as I hold out my wand hand. Sage grips my wrist and begins to mark a bright green rune onto my palm, a slight sting chasing her stylus’s movement.

“Yvan Guryev,” Ra’Ven says in a poignant tone as Sage works.