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Is it magic? Or is this what my mother and father felt when they walked into ancient tombs, touched stones as old as the earth, held artifacts from times long past? Not magic as I’ve known in the Vale but a human sort, a primitive knowing.

“If only we had time to study this place,” Farron says as he goes up to the carved murals on the wall and runs a hand over one. Floating isles and winged fae. The Above. Airaleth.

The Huntresses delivered us to Winter, far north beyond Frostfang, to a place known as the Celestial Landing. They instructed Dayton to blow his horn when we’re ready to return to Spring.

If we return…

There’s a good chance that if I can’t harness some magic, I’ll kill everyone I love.

Pleasant thoughts, love, Caspian purrs in my mind, patting at an old lantern in a catlike way. Farron scolds him when it wobbles. I smile.

There you go. Caspian grins at me and throws an arm over Farron.

We descended through ruins of broken arches and tunnels of a world long past to arrive here at the inner chamber the Celestial Landing. Keldarion, Ezryn, and Dayton all carry packs filled with mythkarite. The packs are designed for Spring mining operations and are enchanted to make the heavy objects within feel as if they weigh nothing at all.

In the center of the chamber, a round stone table rises from the floor. Around it are five faded circles etched into the ground. I kneel beside one and run my gloved hand over a carving. A leaf.

Next to it, a rose.

My breath catches. This was where my mother stood. My fingers tremble against the stone.

The princes eye me, and Wrenley watches from the corner. There’s no time to waste.

“Okay, everyone to your spots,” I say.

They brush away dust and snow that’s gathered on their circles, then take their positions. The images on the ground are mirrors of their necklaces. Wrenley scrambles up onto the center table, and Caspian crouches beside her. As it’s in the middle, it must be meant for passengers who aren’t powering the gateway. Meant for the ones trusting me to send them through.

I’m the only one not standing on my circle now. My body is frozen. When I take that last step, what will happen to us?

Dayton meets my gaze from across the room. You’ve got this, Blossom. He touches his token and extends his hand, shimmering into beautiful teal and golden armor. He slams his trident onto the ground, holding it with both hands.

The others do the same. Pink light sparkles around Ezryn, his silver armor shining. Farron ignites in bright copper and flame. Keldarion gleams, a storm-forged sapphire. Even Caspian, muttering something under his breath, flickers into his moonstone armor with a lazy grin. Wrenley’s already wearing her prismatic armor she picked up at the monastery.

They’re ready. All of them.

And I⁠—

I don’t know how to begin. My heart hammers in my chest, guilt consuming me every moment we’re using the tokens’ power and not fighting Sira.

I returned to the Enchanted Vale thinking I could fight like a human.

But I am not a human girl.

We may not have all the divine weapons, but Justus said Aurelia powered the Celestial Landing alone. My mother made this land. Made Castletree. She brought magic to the Enchanted Vale.

But where does her magic stem from?

I look up. The ceiling is mottled with murals of clouds shaped like isles and isles shaped like clouds. The Gardens of Ithilias were destroyed, the home of the first magic ripped apart by Sira.

And yet Aurelia persisted.

It lived in her.

The grass, the mouse, the falcon, the falconer. She’s carried it within her.

I hold up my hands, examine them as I might a book I can’t decipher. Could my magic be like hers? Innate? Within the blood? If so, why can’t I feel it anymore? Since Castletree fell, there’s an empty place inside me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Was it when Castletree fell that I lost the connection to my magic?