There was nothing left of the village but a faintly glowing pit in the ground. I stumbled toward it, my boots sliding in the grey slush, until I stood on the edge. There was nothing. Nothing but rock that had melted and hardened, still hot hours after the attack. And ash. Dozens of lives reduced to ash.

If the world burns, its blood will be on your hands.

Turning, I made my way back to where my friends stood next to what remained of the tree line. The dawn rose as I reached them, and as it did, my sense of Tristan went flat. I stopped with one foot raised mid-stride.

Victoria bent down, her eyes squinting in the glowing brightness of the sun. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” I said, then stumbled over to a charred trunk and spilled my guts onto the grey ice. I’d known he would use the seed, had known what it would do to him, but the reality was so much worse.

“I made one of Anushka’s potions for Tristan,” I said. “It’s meant to mute our bond, but it works by suppressing his emotions.”

“Why?” Victoria demanded.

“So that if something happens to her, he’ll be able to carry on,” Marc said, then slowly shook his head as though he had more to say on the matter but was choosing not to. “Can you tell if it worked?”

My throat convulsed as I swallowed. “Yes. Maybe a little too well.”

No one spoke, the only sound the wind and the hiss of snowflakes falling into the pit.

And the tread of many feet.

I lifted my head, the trolls already facing back to the Ocean Road, heads cocked as they listened.

“At least a dozen,” Vincent murmured. “Perhaps more.”

We crept back through the blackened trees, magic blocking us from sight but our silence dependent on stealth. Reaching the Ocean Road, we stopped, groups of islanders trudging past us, many of them bearing signs of injury, and all under guard. But not troll guards.

Human.

“Black, white, and red,” Marc muttered as one of the guards passed close to us. “Roland’s new colors?”

“How is this possible?” I asked, turning to spit in the snow, the taste of vomit still sour on my tongue. “How could he have recruited so many in so little time?”

“He didn’t,” Marc replied. “This plan has been years in the making.”

There was nothing else to do but follow them.