Daedalus tumbled from the black tower and through the stars.

Or so it seemed as he flew for the very first time. Around him, sparks flickered and burned out in the frozen wind. Each micro-explosion shredded the already-flimsy promenia wings he had managed to create and threatened to shred his concentration with them.

Only the sensation of his brother's warm blood bubbling against his hand kept him focused. He could not fail. Domi needed help, and help lay far below, down where clivias and Blended fled the falling tower. And so, he flew through dying particles in a desperately-controlled glide, clutching his twin and his cousin with hands and promenia alike.

Until the final thinning particles holding him and his precious burdens aloft dissolved.

Screaming, he plummeted.

Snow-covered rocks rushed to meet him. Daedalus squeezed his eyes closed as despairing acceptance sank into him. He was about to die, and Domi and Lyra with him. There was nothing more he could do to stop it.

He hoped it would not hurt.

The silvery whine of promenia surrounded him, and something slammed the breath from his lungs as pressure enfolded him. "I've got you."

Daedalus's eyes flew open. Valens met his gaze, face stony. It was not anger, but concentration. Air and arms alike gripped Daedalus's body and steadied Domi and Lyra in his hold with the soft, high hum of flight promenia. Another thrum wove with the first, the deep, tooth-rattling reverberation of a worldholder crafting new promenia from air, dust, and water vapor. Yet these freshly-minted particles flared and fizzled out the instant they were born, spilling a thinning curtain of phosphorescent sparks into the night.

No one but Valens could manage such fine-tuned control. But even an expert could not hold back the inevitable forever.

"Valens," Domi whimpered, not lifting his head from Daedalus's shoulder. "Your promenia--"

"I know," their aedificans said, voice grim over the sound of the wind whipping around them. They were near the ground but approaching too quickly. His hands tightened around Daedalus as the last of the sparks winked out. "Bend your knees."

Snow and rock seemed to heave up to meet them as the air cradling them fell apart. Valens made contact with the ground first, grunting in Daedalus's ear as he managed several running steps before momentum overtook him. He tripped and collapsed with a curse, throwing Lyra and the twins free.

Ice and stone battered Daedalus as he hit the snow and rolled. His breath crushed from his chest as Domi, with a choked scream, slid more than tumbled into him.

For a long moment, Daedalus could only stare, dazed, upward at the sky.

Above the crumbling black tower, the Trellis blazed incandescent white, spitting sparks in every direction. A crimson corona of heat rippled around the failing lattice and faded as the sparks cooled. Died.

Darkness descended over the night-side, lit only by stars and the trio of watching Eyes.

Daedalus's lashes fluttered. The sparks had been beautiful in their own way. Who knew that the death of magic could look so sublime? But this velvet darkness, this silence as the last of the humming faded, carried its own beauty. It held liberation within it. Possibility. Rest.

He closed his eyes, sighing. Reached out and patted Domi's back where his twin rested, motionless, against him.

"We did it," he muttered.

Domi nodded against his shoulder. "Yeah."

Snow crunched with uneven footsteps. Somewhere, Valens cursed. Then pain stung in Daedalus's cheek, and he squinted up at his aedificans. "You slapped me," he accused thickly.

The man nodded. "You can't go to sleep now, Alumna. Not until I have a few words with you two." Amber eyes, too wide and fearful to be truly stern, peered down at him, then Domi. "Where are you injured?"

"I am not," he said fuzzily, although, in truth, he was not sure. Everything hurt, and the resonance did not let him distinguish between his own aches and pains and Domi's.

Domi!

He jerked upright, ignoring Valens's curse and the pain screaming through his back, head, and elbow at the sudden motion. Swatting the man's hands away as his aedificans tried to push him back to the snow, he leaned over Domi, lurching as dizziness crashed over him. "Aedificanti, he is hurt. Oliva did something to him."

His twin blinked up at him, blue eyes glazed, blue face waxy. No wonder Daedalus felt so cold and clammy. His twin was bleeding heavily. Maybe even bleeding to death. "Doesn't hurt that bad," Domi muttered. Blood bubbled on his lips, but he did not seem to notice. Instead, his eyes fluttered shut.

"No!" Valens snapped, shaking Domi's shoulder. "Open your eyes! Right now, Alumna!"

Domi cracked them back open, glaring weakly. "It's fine," he said, and grasped Valens's hand clumsily, pressing it to the spreading crimson stain on his side. Daedalus stared numbly at the pool glistening under his brother. That could not all have come from his twin. It just could not.

"Good idea," Valens said, voice frantic. He fumbled at the wound, his other hand joining the first, pushing down hard enough Domi's back arched in agony. "Got to put pressure on--" He paused, brow furrowing.

Domi slowly relaxed as Valens's hands, trembling, grew slack. He breathed a strained chuckle, eyes falling closed again. "See?" he muttered. His bloodied fingers patted Valens's hand as the man just stared. "It's alright."

Daedalus's lip wobbled as Valens straightened, drawing his hands away from the wound. "Aedificanti?" Surely it was not too late?

Valens shook his head, then glanced at Daedalus, amber eyes full of wonder beneath the light of the three planets looming in the heavens. "The wound is closing."

A pulse sounded behind him, and heat washed against Daedalus's back.

Spore-healing drains the body's strength. The pup needs to rest. All of you do. The Great Voice sent us to aid you.

He turned to the approaching quartet of adult clivias, lifting one hand to calm Valens as the man tensed. "They are here to help."

"Can they send a cart or something? If clivias even use carts..." Valens shifted in the snow with a wince. "I'm pretty sure I broke my ankle, and I doubt you two can walk."

Domi nodded without opening his eyes. "Tired," he murmured.

We will carry you. The four clivias floated forward, and one swayed a couple of her pearly filaments toward Valens, who jerked his head back. Tell this one we will not harm him.

Daedalus smiled at Valens. "They say they can carry us and will not hurt us."

Valens eyed the creatures suspiciously for a moment, then nodded.

One of the males swept toward Domi and, lightly pricking him with the end of a filament, began gently trundling Daedalus's twin into a sort of loose net of pale-blue tendrils. Behind him, a female did the same to Lyra. I have stung these pups for a more comfortable journey.

"They have sedated Domi and Lyra to help ease the pain while we travel," Daedalus told Valens.

His aedificans glanced at the waiting clivias. "Travel where?" he asked, but rose gingerly to his feet with a reluctant nod.

The barrows, the other male said, floating forward and beginning to wrap filaments around the cringing worldholder. You will all heal more swiftly with the resins we have there to aid you.

"Home," Daedalus said. He smiled and gingerly lifted his arms as the fourth clivia approached him. "They are taking us home."