“But the corruption’s been infecting the land around Selaserat for at least half a century,” Kjaelle said, brushing her hands together as she rose from the mister. “We remember the Light-blessed talking about odd sensations and strangeness during previous visits.”

The thick haze coated the red tent’s interior, providing a needed relief from the rainforest’s rhythm as well as a burst of energy for the ghostly. Katta insisted they recharge in his abode, while another tent housed the dancers and a plethora of the fruit that muted the rhythm.

Navosh and Tenathi chose Katta’s tent and seemed happy enough with the mist and company. Vantra wondered why they wallowed in haze rather than eat fruit with the dwellers, but did not care enough to ask.

“That’s true,” Jare said. He leaned over, his elbows on his raised knees, his fingers clasped beneath his chin while his thumbs drummed against his cheek. “I don’t know when something started feeling off, but it became stronger as the years went by. It’s been at least a couple centuries, though.”

"Probably six millennia," Kjaelle muttered, reminding them that she still believed the overwhelming beghestern presence was the Beast. Who else could it be?

“The entity has had many years of planning and infecting.” Tenathi walked from behind the dark screens dividing Katta’s entertaining space from his sleeping one and sucked in a cleansing breath. “We face a subtle enemy who will take things slow and deliberate enough to make certain deities do not notice their encroachment until it’s too late.” She swished something around inside a pale green glass, eyebrows knit as she stared at it.

“If they centered their first machinations outside the Labyrinth’s borders, I would not have noticed,” Navosh said with a sigh. “And it was never fond of Selaserat, so while it hugged its walls, it refused to tread further. And it never has crossed the Dryanflow.”

“What about the Nature temple?” Vantra asked. “The rainforest had invaded the gardens, and the corruption came with it. Those gardens are inside the walls.”

Silence descended, and she shrank down. Perhaps she should have mentioned it to her mother in private and let her handle the delicate questions. Kjaelle slid onto the table next to Katta and set a comforting hand on his back as pain flickered for a second across his features, replaced by a bland expression.

“I’ll speak with Maed Enne,” he said, straining to keep his tone emotionless.

“Or I will,” Erse said. She sat with Verryn in a padded black double chair, clasping hands with him, her legs crossed, the top foot bouncing in harmony to the lingering forest rhythm. “She must face some hard truths, and you’re not the one to hold the mirror.”

Katta’s eyes narrowed, but he did not protest the assessment.

“Besides, you must travel to the Windtwists once the winds die down.”

Navosh smiled. “A part of me wishes I could go with you,” he said. “To explore beyond the boundaries of the Labyrinth. When I was younger, it never occurred to me that I might want to see what existed outside the leaves. But now, I’m bound to them.”

“Because of the Labyrinth?” Vantra asked. How sad, to stay in a single place when one wished to travel.

“Yes and no. Right now, it’s antsy. Until the Bendebares regrow, it will be vulnerable, and it will retaliate against any hint of danger. I’m its reason right now—as much as a plant can reason.”

“Isn’t it a combination of the soil, the water, the plants, the wind?”

“No. Those are separate but adjacent. Kin, if you will. They synchronize with its rhythm.”

She rubbed her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“It takes a few centuries.”

“How could it give up its heart?”

“It didn’t. It formed a new one.”

At least Kjaelle looked as skeptical as she felt. Elfines had an affinity with forestlands, so if she seemed dubious about the pronouncement, Vantra did not feel so out-of-place.

“Are you going to keep the Wiiv out of the grove?” Tenathi asked as she handed Navosh a glass. He glanced inside before drinking; with a wince, he gave it back.

“No, but I doubt many will wish to enter. Tragedy upon tragedy, led by the faithless, and the new trees are a reminder of what they lost. They may find another powerful entity wishing to become a deity, one that vows revenge on their part, or they may drift into another people, become another culture. Who knows.”

“I think Kjiven eradicated the others,” Tenathi said as she set the glass on the edge of the table upon which Katta and Kjaelle sat. “I have not felt their presence in years. Initially, I thought nothing of it; we rarely interacted but in passing. But after meeting him, I realized something was not right. I called, to no answer. It was not long after that the corrupted roots began to menace the Hold. I must have frightened those holding his leash.”

“You accepted the rhythm of the forest, and he never harmonized. They must have considered you a threat because of his weakness.” Navosh sagged back. “Ten, what was in that?”

“You should have asked before you drank.”

“Big sister shouldn’t trick little brother,” he muttered. She frowned, annoyed, as he drifted off.

Erse chuckled. “That’s one way to make him rest.”

“He’s stubborn,” the healer said. “He has more of his father in him than he admits. But, I suppose, that kept him alive.” She settled a hand against her chest, her red eyelashes fluttering fast. “I failed him. I—”

“That will not help renew the Labyrinth and his mantle,” Erse told her with gentle firmness. “Regrets never pave the way forward. Mistakes are not solely yours, so don’t carry another’s burden.” Verryn squeezed her fingers, and she glanced at him, her umber eyes bright. “Look where we are, because of my blindness.”

“From me to you, without Vantra and Laken, we still wouldn’t know,” Kjaelle said quietly. “And that was by design. As Tenathi said, the enemy is subtle and willing to take centuries, maybe millennia, to plot against us.”

“They’re methodical,” Verryn agreed. “I don’t think any of us—even Machella—could have predicted the slow creep.” Erse cast him a scathing look, which he ignored. “Katta, how long do you think the Shades will take to cross-reference their missions?”

Darkness shook his head. “I don’t know, but probably years. Greyshen’s agreed to take charge and sent for copies from other enclaves. Khorde is indexing them all, but there are millions if you count from the Beast’s demise. Then the reading will commence.”

“We don’t have years,” Kjaelle said.

“No, but I have faith that Khorde will come up with something to speed things along.” He looked at Tenathi. “Whatever information you discover, would you mind sharing it with the local Shades? They can send it on to the Lesarat enclave.”

“Of course. I’ve no wish to see what happened in Greenglimmer fall upon others of the Evenacht.” Her somber seriousness filled the tent. “I remember the Beast. I will die, before I allow another such as he to gain root.”

Everyone murmured assent.

Night’s wind and the soft song of waves touched Vantra as she wandered to her mother’s tent. She had passed Light-blessed patrols and Two Rivers residents eating at the central fire, and envied them their routine. Everything she had done since binding to Laken had happened outside the every day, and she did not know how to feel or react anymore.

A lost leaf coasting on the breeze went where the wind blew it, no choice.

She wrapped her arms around herself. Navosh and the Labyrinth may have struck with her, but her Clear Rays had ended yet another being—or beings, since the deity stated all those with the mark perished—and she hated it. Why had this Redemption brought out such terrible things in her?

She entered a rush of bodies before she realized the tent had Badeçasyons and villagers whisking in and out, carrying a variety of boxes and supplies. Deciding to speak with her mother later, she wafted away and headed towards the torch-lined path to the Light temple. She did not necessarily want to be alone, but she needed a calmer place to sit, contemplate, and the hill had various places where she could wallow in the night’s animal-rich trilling.

Not that she really wanted to contemplate, either, but her insides whirred, and her thoughts refused to settle.

The Light temple’s glare had lessened as darkness fell; the structure gleamed, but the rays did not shoot much past the immediate area. That was good; all manner of beings needed night to be night. She sent a prayer as she passed, hoping Qira’s recovery progressed well, and headed for the overlook.

Murmurs of someone already there sank her jumbled spirits; she did not want to intrude on another’s solitude. She turned as a few words strengthened; she recognized Kenosera’s voice, and he sounded unhappy.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“You said they leave you out a lot, anyway.”

She recognized Yut-ta, too; anger rode beneath his calmer words.

“Because I’m dor-carous. Too delicate, too refined.”

“I don’t think you’re either.”

“It’s a stereotype my family likes to promote because it guarantees they remain Nevemere leaders with riches and servants.”

“For nomads, that’s an odd sentiment.”

“It’s a landed sentiment, because dor-carous no longer travel. Many desert peoples have built stationary communities rather than migrate. It was once necessary, to follow the food and water, but we have changed, then changed the land to fit.”

Feeling guilty for listening, she turned to leave.

“Vantra?” Kenosera called.

She firmed her lips and glanced at the two, who turned towards her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“You’re not interrupting,” Kenosera assured her.

“Sera officially told Dedari, Lesanova and Tagra he wasn’t staying in Selaserat,” Yut-ta told her, his fox-like russet tail swishing back and forth while he ruffled his matching wings.

“They took it ill,” the nomad muttered. “I’ve not kept it secret, but now it’s . . . final.”

“I’m sorry.” She wafted to them, words of comfort flitting through her mind, and none seeming appropriate.

Kenosera shook his head. “They thought I wasn’t serious. Dedari even said so, that they assumed I’d see sense and remain in Selaserat. Their sense, of course. My desires had little to do with it.”

Vantra settled on the log next to him. “They didn’t expect these adventures.”

“They expected something of it, or they wouldn’t have traveled away from the Den.”

Yut-ta leaned over. “I’m not worried about the dangers.” He withdrew a Sun-gleaming scabbard from his waist and showed her, then drew the knife. The handle was wrapped in dark leather, ending in a splayed golden pommel, the crossguards carved to resemble wings that met with a point in the middle, the blade curved. Sun sparkled all over it, as if it drowned in dewdrops and the rays caught the water and refracted. “This is a kedik from my people. Lokjac spelled it to burn while it slices, and if I say a certain phrase, it creates a Sun shield around me. He said it would have to be recharged, maybe reapplied, but for now, it’s ready for me to use.”

“You’ve already experienced what our enemies do to those who oppose them. The changelings might have killed you if I hadn’t been there.”

“Which is why I want to help. They wish to keep Laken from being Redeemed? I’m here to make sure you and he succeed.” He handed her the blade, his silver eyes bright with pride as a smile tugged the edges of his ashen beak. She examined it, not certain what she was supposed to notice or say. She smoothed the wings, her fingertips tingling as they caressed the energy, then returned it.

“I don’t know much about physical weapons, but the Sun spells are powerful.”

He nodded as he re-sheathed the knife. “Lokjac wouldn’t give me something less than his best.”

Of course not, considering the danger he now faced. She and Laken had so many enemies, even the syimlins’ presence could not guarantee success. Look what happened to Qira; he saved Two Rivers from a mephoric emblem catastrophe, but nearly died in doing so, and the religious considered him the strongest faelareign deity next to Ga Son. “I can’t guarantee you’ll live.”

“We’ve already thought of that,” Kenosera said with breezy confidence.

“What?”

“Well, umbrareign become ghosts, just like faelareign. We decided if we become ghosts, we’ll ask Levassa if we can stay to continue helping you.”

She blinked. “I don’t think that will work.”

“And we’ve talked about how to guilt the syimlin into speaking for us.”

“That’s really not going to work.”

“And Fyrij will be on our side,” Yut-ta added. “If Levassa wants a moment’s peace, he’ll let us stay.”

They were not taking this as seriously as they should. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

“Then make sure that doesn’t happen.” Kenosera clapped her shoulder, his smile wide.

Did they realize the burden they placed? Or were they as young and foolish as she had been, to think Death would meet them in their elder years, not in their youth?

Yut-ta raised his index finger. “Besides, it’s our return for what you’ve done for us.”

“I haven’t done anything for you.”

“You saved me from Hrivasine’s changelings. You saved Kenosera from pirates.”

“The syimlin did that.”

“And you got him out of the Snake’s Den.”

“The pirates did that.”

“And you’ve let us join your quest already. What’s a few more semma?”

“It could be years, especially since we don’t know where Nolaris took Laken’s heart.”

“We’re aware,” Kenosera murmured. “Lorgan reminded us. I can think of far worse things than traveling the Evenacht with the mini-Joyful for a few years.” He touched his chest. “And after that? Veer Tul’s Darkness calls to me. I find comfort in it. I’ll probably stay with the mini-Joyful until I breathe my last.” He tipped his head slightly to meet her eyes. “Have you thought about what you’ll do, after Laken’s Redeemed?”

Vantra could not swim through all the thoughts, feelings, battering her. “I always thought I’d go on another Finder Redemption, but that’s not going to happen.”

“Lorgan says he snuck into the Fields to claim more Candidates,” Yut-ta said, speaking louder to overcome the wind. “You can do that, too.” He glanced at Kenosera, then back to her. “I’ll go with you. We can sneak into the Elden Fields and you can Chose someone in desperate need.”

“You’ll go with me?” she asked, startled.

“Why not? I overheard Erse and Katta talking about the state of the Fields. Someone other than the Finders needs to start Redeeming the Condemned. It might as well be us.”

“We snuck into Black Temple,” Kenosera said. “We can sneak into the Fields.”

“But—” Vantra tried to form a coherent argument about the terrible idea, but none rang true. The Fields needed more Redeemers than the Finders allowed; Laken was not the only Elden head who had overstayed their punishment because of the Hallowed Collective’s grip on Redemptions. “Maybe.”

Both perked up, as if she had agreed to the whole ludicrous suggestion. “We just need a name,” Yut-ta said. “Like the mini-Finders or something.”

Kenosera whapped his arm, which made him ruffle his wings and laugh, and she stared at the waves of the river beyond while shaking her head. The days before them did not seem so dire, with the two at her side. Had she made friends on this strange Redemption?

She smiled as a fuzzy knot unfurled in her chest. Yes, she had.