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“Who says I did?” Thad’s smile was soft. Sad.

“Thaddeus.”

“Ach, leave it. I’ll be here when you get back. Promise.”

A deep breath. Brand simultaneously sheathed his sword and shoved back at the growing uncertainty. They’d already wasted too much time managing his sorry arse. He didn’t need to remember a single damned minute of his personal life to be the warrior that he was. Didn’t need his greater self, or his power.

Focus. Speed. Efficiency and dexterity. All things he possessed in excess, even in his lesser form.

The rest of it could bloody well wait. Nyri and Baldrir couldn’t.

Another deep breath, and Brand leapt.

Lunara landed softly, releasing control of the particles that eased her way.

Peering into the gloom, she waited. Listened. Smelled the air. Waited for her little hairs to stand on end.

Nothing.

Thank the blessed moons for that.

Fern touched down beside her a second later, the scowl on her face highlighted from above by a shaft of pale light. “I swear to the tits-up Sisters,” she hissed, “if you’re stupid enough to die before fixing us, I’ll be the one pulling you from the Veil next time, just so I can murder you all over again.”

Lunara clicked her tongue. “Sorcerit. Keeper. Ringing any bells? I was well aware nothing’s down here,” she hedged.

At least, she’d known there was nothing with a heartbeat. Not nearby. Even now, the threads of her power were stretching out through countless tunnels and pathways, searching for anything alive within the maze, and finding naught.

She couldn’t decide whether or not that was a good thing, an image of Nyri’s impish grin flashing in her mind.

“Funny. It’s almost as if you could’ve said that before hurtling yourself down here and giving the rest of us a heart attack. Also…” She tapped a finger against Lunara’s forehead. “Twig dick. Sword. Ringing any bells? He was about to take your blimmin’ head off, you weren’t going to do a damned thing about it, and I was too fucking far away to stop him!”

“Did you, or did you not, find us several feet apart by the end of it?”

Fern raised an arrogant brow. “I found him kneeling over you and reaching for the sword again.”

Oh. Right.

Doesn’t mean he was intending to use it again. He looked scared. Upset. Not possessed, like before.

True.

She said as much to Fern, her friend growling in response. “Not good enough. You were barely able to summon your flask by the time I got to you. Just stay away until we’ve figured out how to fix him. For your own safety.”

“We’ll see.”

No way, in all the realms, was Lunara actually going to do that, and Fern knew it.

She turned towards the looming darkness and opened the well within her, beckoning to Illamiata. Its prismatic glow was shielded by the dense fabric of her borrowed robe, but she felt the flare of heat as it sank ghostly fingers into the world.

Gathering a drop of their shared power, she sent it scattering away from her. Sparks of light raced down and away, orbs gathering and suspending to reveal a small cavern around them—and a single tunnel at the bottom of a shallow ramp. As if the earth were screaming at them, chunks of clay clung to blackened roots, hanging above the opening like loose teeth.

At least you won’t have to agonize over which way to go?

“Sure,” Fern scoffed. “That’s not ominous at all.”

Rocks and pebbles skittered behind them, Brand appearing right after. Like the Imperial warrior he was, his feet planted with an almost preternatural grace, knees bending on impact to absorb the blow. A furrow in his arched brow, hazel eyes sweeping around to absorb his surroundings…

Sweet stars above.