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And that was the question. I had been so sure that when I arrived I would know exactly what to do. I had been positive that I could use the power of the One Dragon. It had not occurred to me that it might be difficult or that I would have no idea what I was doing.

I sat on the hard earth. The lack of animals and insects to dig in the ground had let the rains turn it to something as solid as a brick.

Even when I tried to dig my fingers in, my nails would not do more than scratch at the very surface of the dirt.

I could reach for the magic I knew. Owl would be able to think of a way to recover the soil, a decade-long plan to turn Forsaith fertile again. Ox would simply plow through the ruined dirt, loosening it, letting it breathe fresh air.

No. The One Dragon had all of those gifts, but she was also known as one who brought life, who gave the gifts of power and magic to those around her.

I could do that.

Breathing in, I reached for the ocean of power inside me, and thought about ice magic and healing magic and the growth I had learned in Tavornai. Without hesitating, I let the ocean of magic take me over, let it crest over my walls and fill me up. I could feel myself growing scales, feel horns sprouting from my head. They weren’t anything like the goblin horns. Instead, they resembled a crown, because the One Dragon sat at the head of the animalia.

The magic seeped out from me, filling the earth. I could feel the poison that lingered there. It would never allow anything to grow. But even a poisoned cup could be scoured clean, and with the right cloth water could be filtered from mud.

I let myself take in all the magic in Forsaith, all the poison in the ground. I breathed it in, let myself hold the darkness tight in my stomach, let it ferment like an ulcer. The land was large, the poison dispersed, but I drew it all into me, breathing it in, refusing to exhale any of it back into Forsaith.

I was a cup, a vessel, and I could contain all of the corruption the Imperium had released on the world. My job had been to kill the emperor and the Imperium with him. I was a knife, but I could be something else. I could heal instead. I could draw out the rot and decay. I could be greater than I had ever imagined.

When I only breathed in clean breaths, when there was no hint of darkness in all of Forsaith, I finally let myself feel the perversion in my stomach. The Imperium had released something worse than Centipede in the world; it might as well have been drawn from his blood.

Leaning forward, I vomited on the ground, coughing up a thick black tar. It burned my throat, scouring my esophagus, leaving me voiceless as it destroyed everything in me when it came up, but I was ready for it.

With one push of magic, I called on fire magic, anger rising in me to cover the grief I had felt taking in all the pain the Imperium had unleashed. Then I burned the thick tar. The flames rose into the air, higher than my head, higher than the tops of the burned trees. The air was thick with smoke, but when the flames burned lower, the air cleared with one pump of Naî’s wings.

When there was nothing but ash left, I put my hand on the ground, starting with a soft knock, as though I was testing an unopened door. Then I began pounding on the ground, my hand moving faster and faster as the earth around me vibrated, cracking the solid clay that the ground had turned into. The burned trees crumbled to ash. The bones of all the animals and people killed by the Imperium settled beneath the soil.

When I opened my eyes, green extended out to the edges of Asahi and Sagam’s circle. It was a soft moss, springy to the touch. I smiled, and closed my eyes again.

I breathed in and out, letting life come once again to Forsaith.

The sun had faded from the sky by the time I was done. Tallu sat cross-legged in front of me, his eyes fixed on my face.

As soon as I focused on him, he leapt into motion, offering me a water skin, insisting I eat a dinner of the dried meat we had packed.

Sagam was still watching for enemies, but Asahi stared at me, his hands lax at his sides.

“You have healed Forsaith.” Asahi barely whispered the words, but then he was in motion, leaping past me, a blade drawn and ready. Both he and Sagam had their eyes locked on what looked like a shadow, the sunset giving animal shape to something that wasn’t truly there.

They tried slicing through it, but their blades passed through nothing.

The creature began to glow in the sunset, stars forming across its body. It looked like a buck, horns sprouting from his head, the tips of them covered in droplets of light. It bent its front legs, lowering its body to the ground, the starlight shimmering under its skin.

More shadow creatures came out of the earth—rabbits and birds, frogs and squirrels. A thousand animals made of nothing but magic. And they all bowed to me.

I shivered at the display. I could feel the magic that made them crawling up my skin. It would be easy enough for me to dismiss them, to release their power back into the universe. But that would be cruel when all they had done was defend a land they had once known as theirs.

These creatures had once been part of the magic of Forsaith. They had helped the population plant and harvest. They had eaten pests and cleared fields of rocks and weeds. They did not deserve cruelty from me, not when they had served the land loyally for so long without any masters to guide them.

I should have thought to bring seeds, but it had almost not occurred to me that I could do what I set out to. Healing Forsaith seemed an impossible goal, something that should have been reserved for legends, not for me.

“Prince Airón,” Asahi said. He held out our bag of food, and I smiled at him gratefully. Taking out some of the fresh fruit, I examined it. Apples, oranges, a few dried figs with their seeds still intact.

It would not be enough, but I had listened to stories around the campfire, told by my mother. I knew the rhythm of them. And if it could be turned into a story, then it could be done.

I put the fruit back in the bag and closed my eyes. Then, one by one, I began drawing forth fruit, handing it out to the animals in front of me. I drew hundreds of apples, another hundred oranges. I drew grain by the handful—barley and wheat, a few more I did not even recognize.

When each of the animals had fruit or grain seeds, I set the bag aside.