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Then the goddess looked up, toward where her sister and Pyetar’s voices had come from.

“It means that I have calmed her magics down, saved her from death, for now at least. But I can’t bring them lasting peace. Only Iryana can do that.”

Iryana blinked, hands moving to the center of her abdomen, right under her ribs. The point her magic usually thrashed hardest. It didn’t hurt. But… she could sense the tension still coiling there.

“So, there’s hope?” Hadima asked softly.

The goddess made a sound of agreement, nodding lightly.

It sounded like half a dozen people let out a collectively held breath.

Her eyes focused enough that she realized they were back in the cave. Iryana forced herself to turn her head, seeking out the others. Her gaze fell on her sister first. The side of Hadima’s face had turned a dark purple-red, but she still grinned at Iryana. Then she found Pyetar.

He looked positively ruined. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin wan. Dark circles ringed his eyes. Had he carried her the entire day and a half back from the temple? Had he let anyone else help?

“How?” Iryana croaked. “How do I bring the magic peace?”

“When you bond yourselves with our magic, you lower your defenses so your body doesn’t fight it. These magics are inside you, but they aren’t joined and your defenses are up between them, fighting them as they fight each other.”

She wasn’t awake enough to make sense of that.

“So, I need to… lower my defenses again? Like with the Keepers?” She winced at the thought.

But Voordiza shook her head. “No, the magic is already in. Already rooted. Now, you must find peace within yourself. Stop warring inside. And the magic will do the same.”

Iryana blinked. It sounded so simple, yet she had no clue what it meant.

“What kind of peace?” Hadima asked intently.

“Peace of mind. Peace of self.” Voordiza shrugged, a strange gesture to see a goddess make. “To accept both magics, she must accept all parts of herself.”

“How do I do that?” It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried. Since Thelbiz had mentioned it was something she should be able to do herself, she’d tried.

“Perhaps start with why you war with yourself. That is all I can offer.”

Iryana shook her head—that didn’t help. Maybe once she felt better, it would make more sense. She turned back to the others. To Pyetar.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft with relief as he crouched beside her. “You’re back.”

She nodded and tried to sit.

Hadima and Pyetar each grabbed one of her arms, pulling her shakily to her feet. It took a moment for her legs to bear her weight. She looked back to see the others lingering nearby. Vabihn looked paler than usual. Mezhimar hovered over Pepha, and Lidishta leaned against Vaneshta. They all looked relieved but exhausted.

Iryana smiled at them weakly.

To their other side, Iryana found the gods. Mhakiza and Thelbiz were in their meditative trances, magic pouring into the earth, but Limhiz now towered behind Voordiza, who was standing gracefully. Iryana allowed herself another careful look over the gods. They, too, looked exhausted. She didn’t realize gods could even grow tired.

“Thank you,” Limhiz told them. “There is still much to do, but you have helped more than you realize.”

Iryana could just nod at him, still feeling like she wasn’t entirely awake yet.

“I have settled her magic as much as I can,” Voordiza said. “Now for the rest of your reward. Limhiz?”

The god of earth nodded, stepping around the much smaller goddess of water.

He held out his hand and much like Istrins forming their forgings, emerald-green magic poured out of his hand, taking the shape of a staff. More magic twisted around it, like vines coiling round and round its length. Iryana stared in awe at the staff. It was like carved emerald. Only pure earth magic.

“The magic of this staff should stabilize the surrounding area, protecting you from the earthquakes,” Limhiz told them in his booming voice.