Iseult winced. “Y-you two go first. I’ll … hold on to these witches as long as I can.”

“Iseult,” Safi said, as lightly as the snow still falling. As gentle as the truth she saw inside her Threadsister. “Release them.”

Iseult’s knees trembled. “Then they will attack us.”

The weasel squeaked loudly at this, but Iseult only winced more deeply. “I … d-don’t want to,” she squeezed at the creature. “I’ve already k-killed too many. I’ve already ruined … and lost…” Iseult’s voice choked off. Her eyes screwed shut. Whatever had happened to her hands, it hurt her as much as Caden’s leg pained him.

The Cleaved started to groan; and Iseult’s eyes squinted tighter, tighter. Meanwhile, stamping feet of Cartorrans now reached Safi’s hearing. The Hell-Bards would soon arrive.

And Iseult’s shoulders drooped. “Forgive me,” she whispered to the dawn. “I do not want to do this.” Then her eyes burst wide, her arms leaped above her head, and as one, the Cleaved collapsed beside her.

They convulsed upon the snow. Tar erupted across their bodies, and two streaks splattered Iseult. Not that she seemed to notice. With each passing heartbeat, as the men cleaved and died, her spine straightened. Her chin lifted. Until at last her eyes opened and she nodded.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Let’s fly.”

The tower remnants Iseult had seen from the sky were an old place. Iseult felt it as soon as she landed. Where the walls between this world and the Old Ones’ are thinner.

The real walls were thinner too, the forest visible through cracks and a gaping hole that might have been a door. Curving stairs led to nowhere in one corner, and the edges of two more stories clung to stones high above. No roof, but what remained of the walls blocked the wind. Snow slanted down now.

Safi landed less gracefully beside Iseult, Caden still clasped against her, and though Iseult tried to make his landing soft, his leg collapsed beneath him the instant his feet touched down. His face was red with pain and cold; Safi’s teeth chattered every few moments.

It was only going to get colder as Corlant’s storm approached.

The Cartorrans approached too, for the tower wasn’t far from the crash, and an old, snow-strewn trail led right to it. But Iseult needed access to the Dreaming, and this was the only place she could think of.

Esme squeaked in Iseult’s ear, offering the image of a stone table at the tower’s heart. Almost altar-like, it had collapsed on one side. After hastily wiping off the snow with a sleeved forearm, Iseult nodded. It would have to do.