Remiel and I didn't go far before we stopped to camp. It was too dark and the ground too uneven, and we didn't want to risk injuring the horse. Lungs aching from the ever present smoke, I unrolled the bedroll in my bag and was surprised to find it was well cushioned and soft. King Brinley didn't seem the type to worry about my comfort on this journey, which meant it was likely selected by another.

I dismissed Kuga almost immediately. Her gift of the rapier and the rare display of vulnerability might have been a peace offering, but she was too practical to concern herself with something like a plush bedroll. The queen would prefer I slept on the hard ground, and Cassia couldn't afford something this nice.

That left Tievel. And I didn't know how I felt about that.

"What are you doing over there?" Remiel asked.

His bedroll was only a few inches to my left. Close enough that the edges of our blankets touched. The Reaper seated himself in the middle of it and waited for an answer, the moonlight glinting in the dark eyes he fixed on me.

Clearing my throat, I replied, "Making sure there are no rocks under the blanket."

"Even the rocks here have turned to ash."

Sitting down, I scanned the wooded area. Usually when the moon was full, I could see easily in the night, but ever since we stepped onto Araphelian soil, the darkness seemed to fight against the light. It was winning.

"So, how are the trees still standing? And the Temple? None of it makes sense."

"No one ever really understood Queen Seraphina's power. Perhaps she has some control over what she burns? They say no one had the power to touch her without dying. Until the Shadow King."

That would have sounded romantic if not for the fact that meant Seraphina had lived for centuries without being touched. By anyone. I wrapped my arms around my waist. What a lonely existence.

"Do you think the Light of the World will relight Dycidium?"

Remiel shifted beside me, his leg brushing against mine. "It's probably worth trying, but I don't know. It can't be that easy."

"That's what I'm afraid of. I thought about what the king said while we traveled, and then I remembered what Gwendolyn said. She called the Light of the World Soul Fire."

"Same as what Brinley said."

A smile tugged at my lips at his refusal to call him king. "Yes, but the way she talked made it sound like Soul Fire and my mother's fire were two separate things."

"Like I said," Remiel grunted, laying back on his blanket. "It can't be that easy."

"Are you hungry? There's some dried fruit and cheese."

We had agreed to avoid lighting a fire at all costs. Seraphina may be quiet now, perhaps even regenerating if Gwendolyn's theory was true, but we couldn't be sure that wouldn't change in an instant if she sensed a foreign flame.

"I ate earlier. You go ahead."

"I'm not really hungry," I replied, laying down and turning to my side. A gasp caught in my throat when I realized how close my face was to his. "Does being here bring back memories?"

"Not really." His warm breath washed over my skin. It smelled as if he'd just chewed a mint leaf. "I was born further inland. Closer to the mountains that separate Araphel and Estrellum, and it's also near where the Reapers are sent to train. I only came to the coast once as a young boy, and of course, nothing is as it was."

"Tell me..." I swallowed back a thick wave of emotion. "Tell me about the Araphel you remember."

His hand found mine in the darkness, and I did not pull away when he threaded our fingers together.

"My father said Araphel was called the land of pine and glass for the towering pines and many crystal lakes. We lived near the most beautiful lake of all. Lake Mara."

The name stirred something inside of me, but the thought was gone before it fully formed. My eyelids grew heavy as I listened to Remiel's soothing voice lead me through the days of his childhood in our homeland, and it was not surprising that I dreamed of Araphel when I fell asleep.

Firestars burst in the black sky overhead, sending showers of golden light on top of the awed crowd below. For many invited to this party, this was the first time they'd ever seen such a spectacle. I had seen many before, but the boom and bright lights always drew a gasp of delight from me.

"Papa," I called out when I spied my father talking to the Minister of Finance.

He looked very bored, but then I would be too if I had to talk to the old Brownie for any length of time. It didn't matter that I was only six. He never could seem to find a topic of conversation that didn't somehow turn to money or numbers.

"My little Death goddess," Papa said with a delighted smile before scooping me up and setting me on his hip.

I put my small hand on his face, tracing the deep dimple in his left cheek. It was something I'd done since before I could even talk, and it made his smile grow and his dimple deepen. His black hair fell into his lavender eyes as he turned to look at the Minister.

"Hasn't she grown?" Papa asked.

"Yes, yes. But I do believe that is what little elves tend to do. They become big elves."

"I will be as big as Mara one day."

"Perhaps even bigger," Papa said, tapping my nose. "You're already taller than she was at your age. Ah, look. Here she comes with your mother."

I twisted in his arms to get a better look. Two figures parted the crowds. Nestled in their russet hair were crowns of golden flame, and in the very center of each was a sapphire the size of a robin's egg. Everyone bowed, and a few inched away as if afraid to touch–or be touched–by the women.

Mara caught me watching and winked. She nudged Mother with her elbow and pointed. They looked so much alike. More like sisters than mother and daughter. Eyes like pools of honey, straight pointed noses, and high cheekbones dusted with sun kisses. I often found myself envying the deeper hue of their bronzed skin and the many shades of brown and cinnamon in their long, curly hair. At least until Mother reminded me that I was my father's twin and wasn't that wonderful to look just like the elf who owned her heart?

"My love," Papa said, shifting me to his other hip so he could lean forward and press a kiss to my mother's full lips. It was a quick kiss and meant to be chaste, but a rosy blush spread across her cheeks.

"Does the party meet your expectations?" The Minister asked.

"It's wonderful," she replied as she tucked the strands of black hair that had escaped from my braid. Mara rolled her eyes at me from behind mother. "But wholly unnecessary. I have lived through far too many sun cycles to bother celebrating them anymore."

"Nonsense," Papa said, his jaw tightening. "And besides, I've told you. It's my celebration. Because if you had not been born, I would not have the two most beautiful daughters on the continent."

"Papa. You're so silly."

I giggled as he put me down. The adults started speaking to one another. Except for Mara. She was old enough to be included in those conversations, but she always made sure I never felt left out.

"Are you having a good time, little sister?"

"The best. Come, let's go to the east tower. We can see the firestars better from there."

I reached for her hand, but the moment my fingers touched hers, I screamed in pain. Holding my fingers up to my face, I discovered blisters forming on the tips, and when I swung my eyes back to my sister, we were no longer at a glitzy rooftop party surrounded by family and friends.

"Mara," I sobbed, stumbling back from my sister.

The world around us was black, but she burned from head to toe. Even her eyes were flames, and when she spoke, tongues of fire escaped.

"Run, Morana. Run."

"Mara. Please."

Her brows lowered, and she grabbed me by my arm. I shrieked as the skin melted beneath her touch. No matter how I thrashed, I could not escape.

"Morana."

"Morana!" Remiel's panicked voice broke through the darkness, echoing like a gong around me. Still, I didn't wake.

"Morana, run!" Mara yelled.

Pain consumed me. I was dying. No one could experience this agony and live. Mara gripped me tighter, her flames growing, and–

I shot upright with a gasping groan. Sweat drenched my tunic, and my leather trousers were tight against my legs as I leaned over and vomited. A comforting hand moved in circles on my back until the waves of sickness stopped.

"Thank you, Remiel," I said, my voice ragged. When he didn't reply, I turned to look at him.

And was met with Mara's flaming eyes.

"Morana, run!"