It felt like her eyes had just closed when Farron nudged her awake again.

Claire yawned and stretched, only slightly refreshed. But ‘slightly’ was better than ‘not at all.’

“Is it time?” she asked, her voice still laced with sleep.

Her body went cold, stiffening when she saw the expression he wore, the folded parchment in his hand. She hadn’t wanted him to discover that, not until after…

“What is this?” he asked, his voice cold, emotionless. He held the paper up between them.

Her mouth became dry, her words escaping her. She knew exactly what it was. But how would she explain it to him? She hadn’t wanted to in the first place; that’s why she’d written it down in a letter. Her cowardice wouldn’t let her face him with the truth.

“Fare, I—”

“Is it true?” The first hint of anger seeped into his voice, his eyes flashing in the dim moonlight.

“You read it then.” She’d written the letter back at the palace, had hidden it deep in her pack for him to find long after she was gone. If she died. If not, then she would have destroyed it. But now the secret was out. It was a goodbye letter, there was no mistaking it. And in it, she had told of what may happen to her, that she was sorry that she had kept it from him.

“Is it true?” he repeated.

Her throat became tight. How could she have been so careless? “Yes,” she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper.

He was quiet for a long moment, his icy mask slipping into place. He stood and crumpled the letter up. “How long have you known this? Kept this from me?”

“I-I—” she stammered

“How long?” he snapped.

She stood, taking a deep breath to help calm her nerves. “Since Uru Baya,” she said, finding her voice again. She had to face the consequences whether she liked it or not.

Farron made an exasperated sound and turned away from her. He ran his hands over his face. “You kept it from me all this time? What might happen to you?” He turned to her again, his mask gone, a mixture of anger and despair on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me, Claire?”

“I was afraid you would try to stop me,” she said. “That you wouldn’t help me. I know it was selfish of me—”

Farron cursed in that beautiful elvin language, but it couldn’t hide his rage.

“If you knew, you would have tried to find another way,” she said, pleading for him to understand.

“How do you know there isn’t?” He started to pace in front of her.

“There isn’t.”

“We could have looked.” He spun back toward her. “We could have at least tried.”

“No,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. “There was never enough time. You know that. The mark covers almost half my body. I can feel the madness on the edges of my mind, my magic, waiting to consume me. At least,” she paused, “at least this way something good could come from all this.”

Farron scoffed, a scowl on his face.

“We’ve come too far to stop now.” She took a step toward him, an imploring look on her face. She had to make him understand.

“You’ve made sure of that, didn’t you?” he said. “Does she know, your mother? Or is there another letter in there for her?”

“No,” Claire said, wincing at his question. She felt awful for keeping this from him, and from Marion.

Farron began to pace again in the clearing.

“There’s no guarantee that it will happen,” she said, trying to reassure him, and herself. “What the elder said. It’s just a possibility.”

“I don’t like it, Claire.”

“You think I do?”

He stopped to look at her, his angry expression falling.

“I’m scared out of my mind to go in there.” She pointed to the darkness of the cave. “That these could be my last moments, the last time to see the stars, the moon, to taste the sweetness of spring. That I may never see my mother again or give her a proper goodbye. That I never got to do half of the things I wanted to do, or see the places I wanted to see. That my last words with you were a fight.”

Farron came to her and framed her face in his hands. He bent and brushed his lips lightly against hers, the kiss quickly deepening, their anger and frustration giving way to desperation, sorrow, a need to devour, experience and memorize one another before it was all gone forever.

“This won’t be the end,” he said, drawing back. “It can’t be.”

Claire wanted more than anything to believe him, but her fear was like a whirling storm inside of her, blocking all the light, dimming her hopes and dreams.

“It won’t be,” he repeated, as if he were trying to reassure himself, too. “Are you sure you want to do this? There could be another way?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, Fare.”

“There could be…” A touch of desperation sounded in his voice.

“Fare,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. She ran her hands up and down his arms. “Will you try to stop me?” She had to know. If he did try, then it was all over. Though she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that, deep down inside, a tiny part of her wished that he would. She had never been very brave.

Farron was quiet for a few moments. He pulled back to look at her, his expression hard to read. His fingers played along her jaw. “A world without you in it,” he murmured, “is not one I wish to live in. But if there’s a chance, even a small one, that you can be saved, then I will do whatever it takes.” His fingers slid down to her chin and he looked her in the eyes. “I do not like that you hid this from me. I do not like that, after everything, this may not work. I don’t like any of this.”

Claire nodded ever-so-slightly. “I’m sorry, Fare, I should have…”

“Yes.” He dropped his hands down to her shoulders. “You should have.” He sighed. “I understand why you did it. I don’t like it, but I understand. If I would have known,” he said, his voice becoming softer, “I would have tried searching for another way. Would have gone to the ends of the world to do so.”

“I know.”

“And your magic would have consumed you while I did it.” He slid a finger over the mark on her neck, tracing the dark lines, the fresh scar. “I just want a little more time, Claire.”

“So do I.” Tears welled up in her eyes again, stinging.

He pulled her into his embrace, his arms encircling her tightly. She slid hers around his waist. Her tears escaped and soaked into his shirt. So many thoughts ran through her mind, she didn’t know where to begin. In the end, she supposed, all everyone wanted was more time. More time for love, for life, for adventure. Just more.

When it seemed her tears had run dry, Claire reluctantly pulled back, still sniffling. She knew she looked miserable, not heroic like a woman who was about to save the realm.

“Make sure the tales don’t include how I look right now,” she said, a smile cracking through the sadness. She wiped her face with the edge of her cloak.

Farron frowned. “Don’t talk like that. You’ll be around to spread the tales yourself.”

“But if I’m not…”

He let out a sigh. “Then I’ll make sure you’re fierce and mighty. And tall.”

“I’d like that.”

“Do you have any words for your mother? In case…”

She thought for a moment. She’d wanted to write her mother a letter as well, almost had, but what could she say? Only true death would let Claire escape her mother’s wrath from keeping such a thing from her. “Tell her that I love her. And thank her for everything that she did for me. Nothing else I could say would be enough.”

Farron nodded, a solemn look on his face.

Claire took a deep, shaky breath. “Well,” she said, “I suppose there’s no point in delaying any longer.”

“Are you sure?” Farron gripped her shoulders hard.

“No, but we’ve come this far. And besides, if I wait any longer, I might lose my nerve. Then what sort of hero would I be?”

Farron drew her close and kissed her, long and deep, his hands burying in her hair, brushing along her cheeks, her neck, her waist, memorizing her. Claire did the same, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time she’d be able to do so.

They were both breathless by the time they pulled away from each other. Without a word, Farron gathered up the packs and took her hand. Then, he faced the dark, looming cave. Claire squeezed his hand, holding on like it was the last real thing in the world—her anchor, her strength. She tried not to feel anything as he began leading her toward that darkness, but her fear started to bubble up to the surface from deep inside. Her skin grew cold, sweat beading, making her shiver.

This was it. She wasn’t ready.

Unlike the cave in Uru Baya, this one seemed wholly natural. The floor was rough, rocky, no stairs hewn into the stone. Rialla hadn’t built this. No, it was as old as magic itself, carved by nature a millennia ago. How or why they had chosen this place to perform the ceremony, Claire would probably never know. That was a secret that would forever be lost to time.

Goosebumps sprouted up across her body as they crossed the threshold into the cave, her magic awakening inside of her despite the amulet and bracelets. The magic coming from the cave was so strong it was almost suffocating.

“Do you feel that?” she asked, gasping.

“Yes,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Are you all right?”

“As much as I can be, I suppose.”

Farron led the way into the darkness, his steps slow and steady, his head tilting every now and then to listen. They were only a few yards into the cave when Farron stopped and turned back toward the entrance.

He cursed under his breath.

“What?” she asked, her heart rate hitching even higher. Had they triggered a trap? Was it another Beast of Old awakening to protect its lair?

“It looks like our little diversion didn’t last as long as I thought it would.”

Claire stilled, listening. She didn’t hear anything, but she didn’t doubt the elf one bit.

Farron looked down at her, his brow gathering with worry. “They found us, this place.”

Of course, none of this could be easy. Why would it be?

“Can you hold them off?” she asked, though she really didn’t want to part with him yet—or not at all.

“I could, but—”

Claire pulled him down and smothered his mouth with hers. “Be careful, Fare.” She pried the packs from his grip and hoisted them onto her shoulders. Her body cried out, exhausted. She looked up at Farron and her heart broke. She’d never seen him so sorrowful. She could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes, but it was too dark to tell. “I love you.”

“We will meet again, Claire. I will make sure of it.” His hand went to the hilt over his right shoulder. In a flash, he drew the dagger and slipped out of the cave and into the night.

She didn’t have much time. Though she trusted in the elf’s abilities, there were too many of them. He wouldn’t be able to hold them off forever, not without his magic.

With a deep breath, Claire continued deeper into the cavern. Without Farron’s eyes, she didn’t know where to go, she was practically blind. If only she’d thought to bring a torch. But she did have something better. She searched inside for threads of her magic, surprised to find she could. Either Illanor’s blade was far enough away, or the cave kept its sealing powers at bay. The pendant around her neck grew warm as a blue orb formed in her palm. It pulsed, growing dimmer and brighter, as if it were fighting against the oppressive darkness. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. The weight of the packs and her exhaustion made the trek more of an ordeal than it should have been. Her feet shuffled across the uneven rock, stumbling and tripping every now and then, her palms becoming scratched and bloody, her knees bruised.

She followed the curve of the cave as it descended into the earth. Her breath filled her ears, her footsteps echoing. Silence from the forest outside did nothing to ease her urgency. Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, minutes into hours. Just when she thought that the darkness would go on forever, faint light caught her eye at the end of the tunnel, silvery and dim. Moonlight. Just like that night in her vision. Chills wracked her. The end of the line…

Claire paused at the end of the tunnel, the magic orb finally sputtering out, losing its fight to the surrounding magic. The cave opened up into a massive chamber. The ceiling was open to reveal the night sky. The tiny blue dots of Fijärilin flitted in the dark air. Like the forest outside, there was green everywhere, only the plants seemed overgrown, unrestrained. Vines covered rocks and climbed up the walls. The ruins she’d seen in the vision had all but disappeared underneath it all.

Claire stepped into the cavern, her boots sinking into the plush moss. The Fijärilin swarmed around her as she walked to the center toward the ruins. What they had been used for, she didn’t know. They’d looked old already in the vision Rialla had shown her. When she reached the ruins, she stopped and lowered the packs to the ground.

“Well…” she said to the empty air, though it didn’t feel empty exactly. Magic prickled along her skin. “I hope this works.”

Claire dug the small silver key from her shirt. She didn’t know if she had to undo the bracelets, but it wouldn’t hurt. Her hand hovered above the first lock, hesitating. Her magic was going to react, she knew—it was inevitable. She just wasn’t sure if she would have the strength to keep it at bay for long. After thinking it over for a moment, she let the key fall back around her neck. She should figure out what needed to be done, first.

She turned to survey the area, her eyes struggling in the dim light. If only Farron were here…

In the vision, Rialla hadn’t used the ruins, but that didn’t mean Claire wouldn’t need to. Why couldn’t she have left more clues behind? With a sigh, Claire knelt and took out the vials and the stone tablet, setting them on the soft moss. She had all of the parts, but what should she do with them?

A scream out in the forest made her jump. Farron’s handiwork, no doubt. She didn’t have time to dawdle; she had to figure out what to do, and fast. She rose again and made her way to the center of the ruins. The ground was hard and flat beneath the plants and moss. Pillars stood around her in a circle, most of them only half standing. There had to be something here, or else why would Rialla do the ceremony here in the first place? Why would the tablet point her here?

In order to figure anything out, she needed to be able to see. She didn’t have Farron’s eyesight, no matter how much she wished it in the moment. Her hand grasped the key once again, taking a deep breath. She needed her magic or the orb wouldn’t last long enough. One last time…

With shaking hands, she undid the silver bracelets holding her magic at bay. When the contraption fell to the ground, her mark stirred to life, the indigo glow flaring at the edges. A rush went through her body, her magic rearing its head. She closed her eyes and waited for the initial wave to recede a bit so she could push it back down again.

Another shout outside the cave jerked her back to the present. That one had been closer.

Quickly, she searched for a small thread of power and formed an orb in her hand, bigger than the last one, more powerful. An eerie blue light filled the chamber. The Fijärilin drew nearer, circling around the orb like moths to a flame. A few landed on her arm along the glowing mark, tickling her skin. Her mind struggled to keep her magic from taking over, holding the dam in place, but already the cracks were showing, leaks springing.

She slowly turned to look over the ruins, her foot sweeping over the ground, tapping and feeling for anything unusual. Not that any of this was usual…

And then she saw it. In the back of the circular area, what she had thought was a pillar was something else, square instead of round like the others, buried under thick layers of vines and lichen. Claire approached it carefully, her magic illuminating it, and began to tear the vegetation away. Underneath lay a peculiar altar of sorts—or at least that’s what she guessed it would be in a place like this. Like the fountain in the cave in Uru Baya, the top was hollow, shaped like a bowl, but unlike the other one, this one’s surface was jagged and rough, as if something was missing…

Claire whirled. Just like the back of the stone tablet. She rushed back to where the artifact and the vials lay on the ground. She launched the blue orb up into the air where it hovered high above her. A grunt escaped her as she lifted the tablet. It was heavier than it looked. There was a reason it had been in Farron’s pack. She lugged it over to the altar, more shouts from out in the forest spurring her on, her fear pushed to the background to focus on the task at hand. She hefted the slab up and leaned it on the edge of the altar, taking a deep breath.

“Now or never…” she whispered.

With some maneuvering, she fit the tablet back into its rightful place. For a moment, nothing happened. Claire’s stomach twisted, wondering if it was all for naught. But then there was a soft grinding noise and the ground shifted slightly beneath her.

“I suppose it’s too late to turn back now,” she said as she fought to steady her feet. She rushed back to grab the vials. She tried not to think too hard about their contents. It still made her a little nauseous. When she returned to the altar, the letters were already starting to glow, faint and white. Her mind frantically tried to recall how to pronounce the ancient words.

She undid the cork from one of the vials. Whose was this? She had refused to label them. It would have been too morbid for her tastes. She poured the blood onto the stone. Like before, it soaked it up and a few letters began to shine brighter, almost blindingly so. Her hands trembling, she unstopped the next container and even more characters illuminated. When she was on the fifth bottle, shouts sounded again, but they were closer, echoing.

They had reached the cave. Her time was running out. She slammed the last vial onto the tablet, the glass shattering, slicing her fingers and palm. She pressed her hand down harder on the stone, hoping her blood would be enough.

The shouts grew nearer—they were at least halfway down the passageway now. Claire could see the flickering glow of their torches.

The last of the letters came alive then, their brilliance illuminating almost the entire cave. Claire shielded her eyes with her free hand. The ground shook again. The Fijärilin circled wildly. The shining script pulsed, waiting. She took a deep breath.

This was it. What she’d fought so hard for all these months. Her last chance. Her last moments. This would be the end, whether she lived or not.

The words were stilted as they came out of her mouth, her lips and tongue unfamiliar with the foreign language. She’d practiced them before, a few times. But that was before, just practice. Her nerves made her stumble, repeat, forget.

The men were almost to the end of the passage. One screamed out in pain. Farron’s work, she guessed. But it all faded into the background. Her magic thrashed inside of her, wanting to be free. It took all she had to contain it long enough to say the incantation.

When the last word left her lips, the world around her dimmed. Everything suddenly sounded miles away, muffled and garbled. Her mark came to life, the vines crawling across her skin, the blue radiance battling the light from the tablet. The Fijärilin descended on her, swarming her body. Her skin stung where they landed, a thousand tiny pinpricks.

“Let magic flow freely across the land once again,” she said as she fell to her knees. “Bring life and hope to all.”

The tremors spread throughout the cave, growing more violent. The tablet let out a bright light, like a star that had fallen to earth.

And then it just blinked out, an invisible force sweeping past her and beyond. The trembling stopped and the world grew quiet. Numbness crept into her hands and began to spread up her arms.

Claire held her hand out in front of her. Slowly, the glow of her mark started to fade, and the lines grew still once more. The magic inside of her calmed and for the first time in months, she felt at ease. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling. Her body and mind were so tired. Now she could finally rest. No more nightmares waking her up in a cold sweat, no more magic pressing up against her mind like a dam ready to burst, just serenity. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel normal. To just be… Claire.

A strange tingling started on her right hand and along her mark up her arm. She opened her eyes again. The dark line of the mark had begun to fade from her skin. Tears welled up in her eyes, and flowed down her cheeks. It had been a part of her for so long now, had caused so much trouble, but now that it was going away, she was going to miss it. The power it gave her, the strength, both of body and mind, the confidence. What would she be without it? With the mark, she was someone, powerful, able to change the world. But without? She hadn’t thought too much of what came after. She’d been so afraid, so sure that there wouldn’t even be an after. But what if there was? What if…?

She watched as, inch by inch, the dark lines of the mark receded, leaving only the scar as a reminder. But as her magic was waning, the world around her was coming to life. The vines entwined with the ruins and along the ground stirred and began to crawl, twisting and turning, growing and consuming all in their path. Claire’s body grew cold, her limbs turning to lead. She couldn’t have moved even if she wanted to. All she had wanted to do for so long was rest. Find peace.

A voice sounded in the distance. Something about it was familiar, but her muddled mind couldn’t quite place it. The vines edged closer to her, the tendrils wrapping around her ankles first. She should have been afraid, but where they touched grew warm, easing the pain and cold emptiness in her body, like a warm summer day after a blizzard.

The shouts grew closer, more insistent. Was that Fare…? She tried to turn her head, but her neck was like stone. Her head was so heavy…

The warmth spread up her legs and to her waist. The vines began to squeeze and consume her. But still, she didn’t fight it. They drew her into their peaceful embrace.

“Claire!” yelled the familiar voice.

Hands began to pull at the vines, trying to take away her safe haven.

“No,” she whispered. She wanted to go. To rest. Just for a little while. It had been so long.

“Claire, talk to me!” The voice was merely a murmur in her ear.

More tugging, but it wasn’t enough. The vines were too strong. Claire laid down, accepting their sanctuary.

The familiar voice grew more frantic, desperate. The hands wrenching the vines even more so.

The world grew dim, the darkness closing in on her.

“Get off me!” the voice shouted.

Other voices joined in, but they were too far away, too fuzzy to make out.

The ground rumbled, the very core of the earth trembling. Rocks began to fall around her. She couldn’t hear them, but she could feel it. She was one with the rocks, the vines, the moss, nature itself. New life had been breathed into the earth, the land, like rain in a desert. Igniting hope once again. Her life for the lives of thousands. That was a fair trade. She was just a silly little barmaid, after all.

The familiar voice began to fade away. Tears fell freely down her cheeks. Would she ever hear that voice again? See his face? Feel his warmth?

The darkness was settling in around her, pulling her into its abyss. But she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.

Magic coursed through the land once more. It was up to the rest of them to make it work, to live in peace. Her job was done. Was she going to be remembered a hero or traitor? Only time would tell.

Two faces flashed in her mind before the shadows swallowed her up. She hoped the new world was kinder to them than the old one had been. She wouldn’t be seeing them again in the end. But knowing that they would have a fighting chance was enough for her. It would have to be.

The darkness pulled her down into its depths and she knew no more, except peace and quiet.