I don’t tell them I’ve seen the purple embers flare three more times since then—each brighter than the last, or that it only happens when Ryder loses control.
“And you’re forgetting about the Moon still infected in my portal.”
A chill creeps down my spine. The memory claws its way forward: the creature from the mountain, corrupted and feral, reaching for Ryder’s soul. I imagine it roaming the hollow expanse of Astra Nova, endless and empty. Ryder and I tried to hunt it once, but we found nothing.
I’ve been throwing food into the void since then. Beyond that, I’m powerless.
Nala exhales slowly. “Okay. Pass me a book.”
River doesn’t hesitate. He Influences one from the pile, but the moment it lifts, the air fills with dust. It blooms around us, thick and choking, and we cough as it settles back into our lungs. I wave my hand, dispersing it, though the grit lingers.
“Gods,” Nala mutters with a laugh. “Where the fuck did you find these?”
“Where do you think?” I say, nudging her playfully.
She snorts. “The archives. River’s favourite spot.”
River presses a hand to his chest, wounded. “It isnotmy favourite place. And they’re not all from the archives. Some are from the library.”
Nala and I laugh, the sound brief but needed.
“Only joking,” she says, then catches my eye and mouthsI’m not.
River groans. “I can’t believe I’m skipping studying for this.”
“You hate studying,” I say.
“I know,” he replies. “Still feels like a personal attack. What is this—gang up on River day?”
“Seems accurate.” I grin, sharing a look with Nala.
River responds by Influencing a pillow off Nala’s bed and hurling it at me. I freeze it mid-air, heart jumping, then send it straight back. He catches it easily, laughing.
“You’re getting good at that.” River remarks, smirking.
“Thanks,” I say lightly, batting my lashes at River jokingly until Nala snatches the pillow from his hands.
“Absolutely not,” she says, marching it back to the bed. “My pillows arenotbattlefield casualties.”
“Keep my pillows out of this,” Nala warns, smoothing it back into place with care that borders on reverence.
River and I exchange a look, both biting back smiles.
“Sorry,” he says, unapologetic.
“Apology accepted,” Nala replies, already sitting again, already focused. “Now concentrate. We’re not finding a cure if you two keep acting like children.” She pauses. “What did the Soldark say again?”
The question settles heavily.
I cross the room and slide the rug aside. My pulse ticks louder as I pry up the loose floorboard and reach into the dark space beneath. The book comes free with a faint scrape—older than the others, heavier somehow, as if it resists being moved.
After the ransacking, I needed somewhere safer to keep it.
I replace the board, straighten the rug, and turn back to them. Nala steps closer. River goes quiet.
The book hums faintly in my hands.
It recognises me now, so I don’t have to bleed for it anymore. All I have to do is ask.
