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Tenny swallowed and pushed the memory down. She did not have the luxury of reliving it now. Not the way Malakar had looked—wearing her father’s body, familiar and wrong. Not the way he had ripped through those soldiers, shadows and bloodred whips of magic tearing off limbs the way one might tear into a crusty loaf of bread.

Tenny shuddered, then turned her head, looking toward the top of the eastern hill overlooking the village. Where the air itself seemed to be rippling, shadows peeling back from nothing.

For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe.

And then, all at once, she remembered.

And she was running.

Because there they were, lit by the setting moon and the aurora sweeping across the sky.

Cedric was astride Polonius, one hand gripping the reins, the other resting on Ashrender’s pommel. His eyes were alert and assessing as he checked the area. Surrounding him stood the rest—Jocelyn and Thraigg and Young Shep and Kit—Kit—along with a whole slew of people Tenny didn’t recognize but was grateful to see, nonetheless.

Horses stamped and snorted. Carts full of supplies materialized out of the ether behind them. And there, at the forefront of them all, shadows still misting over her skin, was Elyria Lightbreaker, the Revenant, sitting strong-backed and tall, mounted upon⁠—

“Fjaethe!” Tenny’s heart beat unevenly as she scrambled up the hill, nearly tripping over her skirts. Shouts rose behind her—alarm, recognition, joy—and boots crunched against the frozen, snow-covered earth as others followed.

Tenny barely had time to suck in a final breath before warm arms closed around her and she was being crushed against leather, surrounded by warm, familiar, rosemary-scented strength.

“You’re here,” she whispered against Kit’s shoulder. “You’re really here.”

She pulled back to find the fae smiling at her with something unreadable in those bewitching blue and green eyes.

Cedric dismounted from Polonius in one smooth motion and swept Tenny out of Kit’s arms and into a crushing embrace that knocked the breath from her lungs. “Stars above, Ten. It’s so good to see you,” he said, voice thick. And then a laugh burst from him as Tristan ran up beside the two of them, his arms surrounding them both.

“You wily motherfucker,” Tristan said, clapping Cedric on the shoulder twice. He left his hand there, gripping his friend tight, like he meant to keep him in place, like he wanted to prevent him from ever leaving again. “Better late than never, I suppose.”

“As if you’re one to lecture me on punctuality, Tris,” Cedric said, though his warm brown eyes were glassy when they met Tenny’s gaze again. She had no doubt hers were too.

“She lives!” Ollie’s cheerful voice cut across the group, and the fae had a broad smile on his face as he flitted past Cedric, Tenny, and Tristan. Elyria didn’t even get the chance to slide from Fjaethe’s back—quartered hell, it was such a relief to see that horse—before Ollie pulled her into the air, sweeping her into a wild hug.

“Put me down, you lunatic!” Elyria yelled, laughing as they spun around and around, Ollie’s ice-blue wings flapping behind him.

And then it was like the world stopped.

Because Elyria wasn’t just hanging on to Ollie as the two of them floated above the group. She was flying too, her aurora-colored wings flared wide as she continued hugging her friend.

“By the Five,” Tenny murmured, eyes immediately going to the edges of Elyria’s wings, where their purple-and-green hue faded into a sparkling misty black, like someone had wrapped her shadows in threads of gold.

“They’re so beautiful, Ellie,” Kit said as Elyria and Ollie landed, their wings disappearing as they folded back under their cloaks. “I hope I never stop being amazed at seeing them like this.”

The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally cascaded down Tenny’s cheeks while she nodded in agreement. Her final memory of Elyria had played on a loop in her mind these past months. Tenny had been unable to forget the look of searing pain on Elyria’s face as a resurrected Malakar had used her own shadows to slice her wings clean from her back. Had been unable to forget the way they’d looked, bloody and limp and alone on the floor.

To see them again now, not only back where they belonged but somehow even more majestic, healed something deep inside Tenny, something she hadn’t even realized had been cracked.

“I’m so s-sorry for what he did,” Tenny blurted out, her voice breaking as she tried—and failed—to hold in a sob. She didn’t know when Kit had stepped closer again, but as a warm hand tugged at her wrist, then intertwined with her fingers, Tenny’s racing pulse began to settle.

“Nothing he did was your fault. You know that, right?” Elyria’s emerald-green eyes were piercing as she held Tenny’s gaze. “It’s important that you know that.”

Tenny released another broken sob.

“Thank you for holding down the fort,” Elyria said. “First in Kingshelm and now here.”

Tenny could only give a shaky nod in return.

Elyria surveyed the rest of the scene around them. Her smile brightened as she locked eyes with Tristan, then wavered slightly as Zephyr came forward and gave a small, tenuous wave. She inclined her head at the sylvan—not a warm greeting, perhaps, but an acknowledgment, and that alone seemed to make Zephyr’s shoulders drop in relief.

“All right there, Zeph?” Thraigg said, a goofy grin plastered on his face as he hooked elbows with two dwarves on either side of him. “I’ve some folks ye should meet.”