Rowan’s scream cuts the air. I whirl around, bringing my sword down against the flank of the animal that’s sunk its teeth deep into her leg. The dog refuses to let up. Then, with a vicious yell, Rowan finds her shortsword that had fallen behind her and brings it down. Crouching beside her, I pry the animal’s jaws from her calf. Blood pours hot and fast between my fingertips.

“Callen,” she starts.

“You’re gonna be fine,” I say, putting pressure on the wound, “We have the cure—”

“Callen, stop.” I look at her as her body trembles. The clash of swords quiets from behind us as Io lets out a victorious yell, but Rowan isn’t looking at them. She is looking at the Heliana. “Do you feel it?”

“What?”

“Our magic.”

I look to the west. I draw a breath, hoping to shift into my lion form, but I’m not close enough.

But she’s right. Something is happening underneath my skin, like embers given fresh fuel. I set the cure on the ground, wiping my bloodied hands on my pant legs before pulling some out for Rowan, but she waves it off. “The kids are going to need it.”

“And you won’t be able to to give it to them without taking some.” Forcing the bruised flower back into her hand, I keep my eyes on hers until she relents and puts a single petal in her mouth. I press more of it into her hand with a frown, but she stuffs it into one of the empty pockets of her throwing knives’ sheath.

“I’ll take more if I need more,” she says stubbornly. “I promise.”

Io’s and Sethran’s shadows meet us just as Io says, “You two all right?”

“One of the dogs got to Rowan,” I reply.

“I’m fine,” Rowan protests, but Io inclines her hand like, Stay down. “Our magic is coming back.”

“We’re close enough to the Heliana,” Io says, nodding. “But not close enough to be able to fly.”

“How long does it take?” Rowan asks, looking from the sea to Io and back.

“I don’t know. We have been away for a while.”

The unmistakable sound of horse hooves thunders behind us. The humans’ reinforcements will be here in a matter of moments.

“Skies keep us.” Io unclips the bag of the panacea from around her waist and makes a break toward a pair of boulders nearby. She kneels, pressing the waterskin into the shadows between the stones. “All of you. Hide your share.”

I do as I’m told. If we die, the humans might forget about the cure—but there are always Leonodai patrolling the coast. When they find what’s left of us, they’ll find the cure, too.