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“Look at me,” Vesima ordered, somehow still sounding commanding.

Chin quivering, Iryana slowly looked down at her grandmother.

“You will—be First.” Her grandmother winced, trying to reach for her. Iryana caught her hand and held it in her own. It was pale and cold as ice.

“I’m not ready,” Iryana cried. “You can’t give up. I forbid it.”

“This isn’t something—you can be ready for,” the First wheezed. “You just have to do.”

Pain lanced through Iryana, tears burning tracks down her cheeks.

“Remember—what I—told you.” Her voice was getting weaker, her eyes dropping shut. “You can do this. You will do this.”

Her grandmother was supposed to guide her, make sure she didn’t screw everything up. Iryana couldn’t lead the clan on her own. She couldn’t.

“Don’t go,” she begged.

Her grandmother’s eyes fluttered, and she furrowed her brow like she was fighting for consciousness.

“I know—I’ve failed you,” her grandmother said, the words barely coming out now. Iryana had to lean in to hear her. “But I’ve always—loved you.”

“I love you, too,” Iryana wept. “I forgive you, for everything. Just please don’t leave me! Don’t make me do this by myself! I’m scared.”

They should have stayed at the temple, shouldn’t have risked moving. This was her fault.

She waited for her grandmother to answer her, but she was just staring across the chamber now, eyes slowly drifting around like she was seeing somewhere else. Iryana watched through blurry tears as her grandmother’s eyes slid shut.

“No, no, no! Wake up!” Iryana screamed, squeezing her grandmother’s hand, shaking her shoulders. Her body was freezing, her skin pale as snow.

Then Hadima was at her side, checking their grandmother’s breathing and pulse. Misha was sinking down beside her, holding tight to Iryana.

Iryana gasped. “Is she…”

Hadima shook her head. “Not yet, but she’s fading quickly.”

Iryana fell back, chest heaving. The fear surpassed all words. The pain was so great she could hardly breathe. Misha rubbed her back.

Hadima sat patiently at their grandmother’s side, fingers pressed against her wrist. Iryana watched, still on the outside but thrashing on the inside. The moments stretched painfully, until Hadima jerked, adjusting her grip. Frowning, she moved her fingers against their grandmother’s nose. Then leaned her head against her chest.

When Hadima sat up, looking toward Iryana, she knew.

“I’m sorry,” Iryana whimpered, throwing herself to the ground.

She cried, sharp, ragged sounds that ripped out of her chest.

Vesima Kleesolds, the First of her clan, was dead.

What was she going to do?

“You need to do the rite, Iri,” Hadima choked out.

Her whole body shook as she crawled to her grandmother’s side.

She wanted to refuse, to make Hadima do it, but she couldn’t fail her grandmother this final time. Her grandmother was a guardian and she had earned her rites. It was Iryana’s responsibility to give them as heir. The rest of the clan filtered into the cavern, though Iryana couldn’t bear to look at them.

Kneeling at her grandmother’s side, Iryana sucked in a ragged breath, begging herself to hold it together just a little longer.

“Your air has left your body,” she whimpered.