“That could destroy everything.”
“Or save everything. It’s the only option we haven’t tried before.”
I processed this, corruption churning. “Does Elle know?”
“She knows. She saw it in the vision I showed her. She understands what needs to happen.” Peeble’s voice softened. “The question is whether you can let her make that choice when the moment comes.”
Through the bond, I felt Elle’s determination. Her certainty. Her absolute refusal to be used as another tool of control.
“I’ll let her choose,” I said. “Even if it kills me. Even if it destroys me. I’ll let her choose.”
“That’s different,” Peeble said, something like hope in their voice. “In all the other iterations, you’ve never said that before.”
We moved into the second day of tunnel crawling. The passages grew warmer, the air thicker. After the seed chamber, I felt it—a shift in the Heartspire’s awareness above us. Auradelle knew we were here now. Knew we were coming.
Good. Let him prepare. Let him worry.
The tunnels changed as we went deeper. Less carved stone, more natural cavern. The Root’s presence faded, replaced by something else—heat, moisture, the smell of minerals.
“Water,” Vashael said, pointing ahead.
The passage opened into a cavern large enough to hold twenty people. And in the center, steaming pools of water, heated from below by whatever volcanic forces ran beneath the Heartspire. The walls glistened with condensation, and the air was thick enough to taste.
“Hot springs,” Sarnyx said, already moving toward them. Blood still seeped from the wound on her ribs from one of the previous battles. “We could clean these cuts. Actual water instead of tunnel filth.”
I wanted to push forward. Wanted to keep moving. But we were all wounded, exhausted, covered in two days’ worth of blood and dirt. And thebond told me Elle was stable for now—in pain, yes, but not in immediate crisis.
I found a pool at the far edge and knelt, cupping water to my face. It was hot but not scalding, and when I washed the blood from my hands, the corruption-black skin underneath looked even darker against clean water.
Almost fae hands once. Now just weapons wearing familiar shapes.
Peeble landed on a rock beside me. “You should rest while you can.”
“I will. After Elle—”
“What comes next isn’t a fight you can win by being more corrupted than your enemies.”
“Then how do I win it?”
“By being more stubborn than fate itself.” Peeble’s wings buzzed softly. “Which, admittedly, you’re quite good at.”
I almost smiled at that. Almost.
Behind me, I heard Sarnyx hiss as she lowered herself into a pool, the hot water hitting her wounds. Vashael was already submerged to her shoulders, eyes closed, letting the heat work into muscles that had been tense for two days straight. Even Nimor had solidified enough to sit at the edge, feet dangling in the water.
“Thirty minutes,” I called to them. “Then we move.”
“Make it an hour,” Vashael said without opening her eyes. “We’re no good to Elle if we collapse before we reach her.”
She had a point. I knelt back down, cupping more water to my face, washing blood from my neck where corruption hadn’t yet spread. The water ran red, then clear, then red again.
How much blood had I spilled in two days? How many guards? I’d stopped counting after the first dozen.
The cavern was quiet except for water dripping from stalactites, the soft splash of someone shifting position in a pool, the occasional hiss when hot water found a fresh wound. Almost peaceful, if you ignored that we were underneath a fortress full of people who wanted us dead, crawling toward a confrontation that had failed seventeen times before.
I closed my eyes, reaching through the bond. Elle was there—distant butpresent. In pain but fighting. Still herself despite everything Auradelle was doing to her.
“Hold on,”I sent.“Just a little longer.”
