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This changed everything. The original plan was a gamble. An idea that might work, if her suppositions proved true.

With her own two eyes, she just witnessed the power Lunara wielded. That it wasn’t a maybe, but a sure fucking thing. Yes, she still needed to connect the Forgotten Lands to Bordoroth and create her own Realm River to ensure their future stability. But her people could be freed from the Waste now. Could breathe in the interim.

Okthana needed to get her hands on the Moonweaver.

Power swelled and Lunara could’ve wept. Araxis would know what to⁠—

“No!”

Brand.

Thank the Sisters.

“No, no, no, little moon. You’re alright.”

Tingles along her spine, his touch hesitant because he thought this was like the other times. That it would be torture when she moved. He didn’t realize she was already too far gone to feel.

“Do…it. Dying.”

“No, you’re fucking not.” Brand reached under, flipped her back into his arms, and roared, “Araxis!” Cranking her mouth open, he shoved the meat of his palm onto her fangs. “Take it. Freely given.”

As soon as the first, metallic drop hit her tongue, Lunara’s particles leapt forward to seize their salvation. She drank and drank, not bothering to waste time on anything so useless as air, every swallow racing, clearing the death from her weary bones.

She bowed when Araxis’s hands landed on her head and stomach, dumping colossal amounts of healing power into her as he bellowed, “Sweet, weeping shite! Fuck!”

He was going to need his own gift after helping her.

Lunara released her hold on Brand, gulping air. “Don’t put me to sleep,” she rushed out, veins already pumping with renewed vigor. “I’m fine. Let go. Let me go!”

Araxis obeyed immediately, falling back on his arse. “What in the fucking realms just happened?”

Flushed and gasping, she ignored the question and flung herself forward over the creature she saved. “Can you hear me?” she asked, smoothing his brow and cheek as she sent threads to his heartbeat. “That’s it, friend. Follow my voice.”

Kneeling beside her, Brand scooped her matted hair back. “Luna, what is this?”

“Shitting, fucking seasons.” Fern huffed a disbelieving laugh and crouched on the other side, as filthy as Lunara was. “You actually did it. You healed a blimmin’ dreadbeast!”

Those who hadn’t been with them froze, silent and gaping, but Lunara was wholly focused on her charge.

Soft brown greeted her when his eyes fluttered open, and she loosed a small cry. “Hello.”

He blinked once, twice, his gaze darting to take them all in. And then absolute terror spiked the pounding beat in her ears

“Shh, it’s alright, my friend. You’re safe, I promise,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Everyone but me is going to back away very slowly and give you some space, aren’t they?”

As one, the most powerful creatures in Bordoroth—her mate, her family—did as they were told without question, melting into the background.

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

“Where am I?” he asked, little more than a wheeze.

“You’re in the Westrealm of Thodelebor, though I’d hazard a guess you’ve never been to any of the Five Realms before.”

He shook his head, tears welling. “Only in dreams, my lady.”

Just as she thought, far-fetched as it was.

This creature was unlike any she knew to exist, and yet he was utterly unremarkable in every way. Round ears, blunt teeth. His skin had a flat, ashen coloring with no luster beneath. No light. If she wasn’t looking at him, listening to the sound of his pulse, she’d never have known he was there. There was only the tiniest speck of magic in his make-up—exactly like some of the Forgotten she’d found in the Woodmaia Chasm.