She stumbled. Lord Kalen caught her before she hit the ground, and Lord Fox clambered forward despite his own injuries, the rest of us not far behind.

“Stay there!” she commanded. “I do not know how far down the roots of the First Harvest goes. Should any of you come into contact…”

“And why should you take the risk?” Lady Zoya shot back.

“The First Harvest can only be reaped in the radiance of both lightsglass and darksglass. Only Kalen and I are protected.” She gestured at her own black heartsglass and that of Lord Kalen’s heartsglass, the same silver that the Faceless Usij once wore. “Stay there, and let me end this.”

She sank to her knees before the strange, withering plant. One of the berries broke off easily in her hand, its juices seeping into her palm. “Rashnu the Just talked of a powerful sound like thunder,” she wheezed in between deep breaths, her strength seeping more quickly than any of us feared, “and saw his comrades disappear in a cloud of light. How many Dark asha have traveled here, hoping to bring back their loved ones with the juices of this accursed plant only to join them in death? What were Vernasha’s final words? But I—I’ve done it.” Her voice lilted, softened—a happy sound. “Fox, I did it.”

Tea of the Embers walked toward her brother, knelt. The unseen rune she created in the air sent blood dripping down her finger, mixing with the fruit’s dark juices. Lord Fox inhaled sharply, and his face changed, healed. His horrific burns faded, replaced with unblemished skin, and healthy flesh once more crept over the bones of his jaw, repairing his deformity until he was the royal consort of old. Her purple-stained hand pressed one of the berries against his silver heartsglass. “Let it work,” she pleaded. “Please—by all that is holy and good, let this work…”

The runeberry gleamed brightly, leaching into the silver. Lord Fox’s eyes widened, and for the first time in years, his lungs truly took in air. His nostrils flared, and he made a gagging sound.

“I can breathe,” he gasped, bending over from the rush. “I can breathe…” And then, pained, horrified, “I can’t feel you with me.”

“Kalen,” the bone witch said, “you could—I could also be—”

“You idiot.” Lord Kalen had never sounded more affectionate. “I crawled out of my grave, as I promised. Do you think I’d let you get away again? You promised me daughters with your eyes. Where you go, I will follow.”

A sound between laughter and crying tore out of her. Another rune flickered against her palm. I could almost see the edges of it, a symbol like the branches of a heavy oak, the magic so concentrated that even a red heartsglass could perceive the enormity of its strength. It braided itself around the runeberry patch and, for a moment, the world stood still.