The harpy whimpered somewhere behind me. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything except the woman in my arms who looked like she was slipping away from me.
Steel sang against leather. I turned my head to see Grump unsheathe his sword, raising it over his head, his eyes fixed on the harpy with cold intent.
"No! Don't kill it."
Grump froze, his blade still raised. His eyes narrowed. "Why not? She's with them."
"Look at the ground, you stubborn bastard. Look."
He followed my gaze. The collar lay split in two on the forest floor. Black smoke slithered from the broken metal, seeping into the earth like something fleeing back to hell.
Grump knelt slowly, his sword still in his hand. He studied the collar, his jaw tightening. "Dark magic. She was possessed. Compelled."
"Alice knew." I pulled her closer, my chest aching. "She knew, and she nearly killed herself trying to save?—"
Archer grabbed Grump's arm. His eyes were wide—wider than I'd ever seen them. He pointed at the harpy.
We all turned.
The wounds on the harpy's body were reversing. Blood flowed backward, retreating into torn flesh. Gashes closed. Skin knitted together as if an invisible hand was stitching her back together from the inside out. The lash marks on her back faded one by one, erased like they'd never existed.
"Impossible," Grump breathed.
Footsteps approached. Slow. Deliberate. Caterpillar emerged from the trees, smoke curling lazily from his lips. He looked down at the harpy, then at Alice in my arms, his ancient eyes unreadable.
He exhaled a slow curl of smoke. "Curious... most curious."
"What?" I demanded. "What's curious?"
He tilted his head, studying Alice's pale face. "She did not stop death... she unraveled it. Pulled the thread... and the wound was never there." Another pause. Another curl of smoke. "Can a thing exist... if it never happened? Can magic bind... what was never broken?"
He looked at the shattered collar, then back at me.
"The question is not what she did." His voice dropped lower. "The question is... what will it cost her to keep doing it?"
This wasn’t fucking happening. She was fine. Everything I’d fought for, everything I’d found—crumbling. “You mean she'll die?"
Caterpillar exhaled smoke again, watching it curl toward the canopy. "What would happen if she did? What would you do about it?"
My arms tightened around her. I'd been alone for so long. Fighting against an evil queen. Fighting to survive. Then she came. And for the first time in years, I had something worth losing.
I couldn't…wouldn't…lose Alice. The possibility carved a hole in my chest. "I'd burn this whole dimension to the ground."
"Would you?" Caterpillar's lips curved. "Interesting."
"He would, you know."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Then Chester stepped out from behind a tree—or maybe he'd been there all along. With him, you could never tell. His grin was wide and sharp and far too amused for the moment.
"He'd burn it all." Chester leaned against the trunk, arms crossed. "And then himself. Very romantic. Very stupid."
"This isn't a joke," I snarled.
"Who's joking?" Chester pushed off the tree and walked toward us, his steps silent. His eyes—bright and unnerving—fixed on Alice's face. The grin faltered. Just for a moment.
"She's still in there," he said quietly. "But she’s slipped into the shadows of her own mind.” His head tilted. "The question is whether she wants to come back."
I needed her.
