Once in the room, Ryber deposited the tabby by the door and Stix toppled onto the cot they alternated using. Technically tonight wasn’t her night, but she didn’t think Ryber would argue. She knew what the voices could do. Her Heart-Thread Kullen had endured something similar.

Initially, when these memories had begun in Stix’s brain, carried by souls that apparently lived alongside her own, Ryber had expected it would all make sense immediately. “A few memories,” she’d said. “It only took Kullen a few memories before he recalled all his past lives at once.”

Good enough, Stix had thought, and she’d waited patiently for her voices to do the same. But after two weeks of them shouting louder at Stix every day, of a ceaseless headache and sleepless nights, Ryber had been forced to admit that Stix’s Paladin soul might be different from Kullen’s. That maybe the only way to finish releasing her own ghosts was to do as the voices wanted: come this way, keep coming.

So they had gathered up their few belongings at the Sightwitch Sister Convent, including a new pair of spectacles for Stix, and they’d traveled southeast. First to the Pirate Republic. Then to the Slaughter Ring. And soon, they would enter the heart of it all.

“At least we’ve gained access to the Ring, right?” Ryber settled onto the edge of the cot.

“Not sure the price was worth it.” Stix hauled a pillow over her head. It didn’t quiet the voices, but the weight was comforting. When the tabby crawled onto her belly, though, it ruined the effect. She lifted the pillow and glared. “I did not invite you.”

“Come here.” Ryber gathered up the cat, plucking free a few claws. “It just wants to comfort you. And look! It has six fingers.”

“She,” Stix said, “has six fingers.”

“She?” Ryber peered into the tabby’s face.

“Hye,” Stix murmured. She slung the pillow over her head again. “The voices tell me she’s a she.”

“In that case, we should name her Baile.” Ryber switched to a syrupy voice that Stix had never heard before. She promptly decided she hated it. Or maybe it was just the words she hated, knowing that Ryber believed Stix to be a Paladin. Knowing that Ryber accepted it all so easily while Stix could barely keep her sanity intact.

She prayed every night to Noden that her mind would stay wholly hers. That it wouldn’t fracture into past beings like Kullen’s had.

They never spoke about that part—about the fact that Kullen was gone with only an ancient fury to remain.

Stix also prayed every night that Vivia was safe. The news of Serafin’s takeover had reached Saldonica two weeks before, and Stix had hated learning she hadn’t been there when Vivia had needed her most. What sort of Threadsister was she? What sort of first mate?