No one spoke to me again as we rowed the boats away from the burning land. So many thoughts warred for prominence in my head, so I finally settled on attempting to orient myself. Not only were my memories of Araphel distant, but geography wouldn't have been of great importance to a child of ten. The maps Kuga had shown me during training were little more than crude drawings because the king had forbidden any knowledge of Araphel and Estrellum to be retained.

Traveling underground certainly hadn't helped. The temple had been my only frame of reference, and that was long gone. The sea was to the east, as were the mountains that bordered Estrellum. No matter how I pieced together my memories and knowledge, I could not recall such a large river; especially one that was large enough to have an inhabitable eyot.

I pulled my wet jacket around me tighter as we approached a looming shape in the darkness. Suddenly, it reminded me far too much of the palace in Edresh. Cold and stark, sitting alone and separate on the island in the river, but the moment we docked the boats, I realized this place was nothing like that.

As soon as my feet touched the ground, light bloomed all around me. From the warm glow of candlelight in windows to the brighter, silver sparks of fairy lights strung through all the trees or buzzing in street lamps. A gray cobblestone road started at the docks and wound between dozens of pristine cottage cottages with thatched roofs. Most had flower boxes beneath the windows with vibrant blooms overflowing the painted wooden boxes, despite the chill in the air.

My mouth hung open in awe as I climbed out of the boat, and because the picturesque scene captured all of my focus, I missed the subtle incline of the road. Shrieking, I pitched forward and prepared to smash into the pavement in front of all these strangers; instead, a pair of powerful arms caught me and drew me against a solid chest.

"Remy," I gasped, the scent of him overpowering me and leaving no doubt as to who had saved me.

"Stop wiggling," he huffed as I struggled to stand upright so I could throw my arms around his neck.

"Stop telling me what to do."

"You're one to talk. Stop–"

My lips on his cut off whatever flippant comment he had intended to make. As much as I had enjoyed fighting with him since I met him, I much preferred kissing him, and from the way he grabbed the back of my head and moaned against my mouth, it was obvious he agreed. We might have carried things further if not for someone clearing their throat loudly beside us.

"Well, now that we have that out of the way," the green eyed Deathsinger who had saved me said, "let's get you two somewhere warm."

"That's very kind of you." We fell in step with her as she walked toward the village. Remiel held my hand and watched me with an unreadable expression.

"It's not kindness," she replied. "It's a lot easier to understand someone when they're answering questions if their teeth aren't chattering together."

"How are there so many of you here?" Remiel asked.

"Have you hit your head?"

Remiel frowned, confused. "No."

"Then you're daft. I said I would be asking the questions."

A group of white-robed girls walked by us. The eldest among them looked no older than fourteen. Some of the younger girls saw us and whispered, but most of them kept their expressions blank and serene. To anyone else, they might have been ordinary school girls, but I felt the icy shiver of death surrounding them. Deathsingers.

So many of them when we thought they were all but gone. Had even suspected I was the last.

"Will you at least tell us your name?"

She brought us to a stop in front of a white cottage with a pale yellow door. Hand hovering just above the handle, she glanced over her shoulder. Indecision clouded her green eyes, and after a long pause, she answered, "Cethin."

Remiel sucked in a sharp breath. "Cethin Araish?"

"That sounded suspiciously like a question," Cethin grumbled, pushing the door open with a grunt and gesturing inside. "Sit in front of the fire. I'll bring some towels."

Suddenly conscious of the water dripping off me, I wrung out my hair before stepping over the threshold. Still, wherever I stepped, little puddles formed on the gleaming mahogany floors, and I quickly settled on one of two ladder-backed wooden chairs in front of a cheerful fire.

"Who is Cethin Araish?"

"Some call her the Mistress of Death." He winked at me when I gasped. "But only because she was the leader of the Deathsingers before the fires."

Something heavy settled in my stomach. Like a stone dropped into a pond. For her to have been the leader, she had to be very powerful. What would she make of me?

Remiel hung his cloak on a drying rack beside the fire, and when he held out his hand, I gave him my jacket. I wrapped my arms around my chest, not just to conserve warmth, but because without the extra layer, the deep purple bodice I'd worn beneath it felt like far too little. A quick glance under my hands revealed that the thin linen material had gone see through, and I hunkered down in my chair.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

He squatted in front of me and pushed a damp strand of hair out of my face. Eyes burnished gold by the firelight, he frowned as he studied me. "You would tell me, wouldn't you? If you'd been hurt?"

"Why do you think I'm hurt?"

"Why are you hunched over like that?"

"I'm cold."

And my nipples were attempting to cut through my top. It wasn't a fact I was comfortable sharing with him, even though not that long ago, he had actually drawn those same nipples into his mouth. At the thought, my nipples grew even harder–a feat I didn't think was possible.

"Morana. Damn it. Tell me if you're hurt. Every moment I was separated from you has been torture. Imagining Mara hurting you..." He tugged on the neckline of my bodice, pulling it low enough down my shoulders to reveal my scars and the fresh wounds. "Burning you."

Remiel's voice broke, and I threw my modesty out the window, unwrapping my arms from around myself and throwing them around his neck. We stayed just like that until Cethin returned. Him on his knees before me, his face in the crook of my neck, while I held onto him.

Once more, she cleared her throat to get our attention and handed us the towels when we reluctantly separated. I wasn't sure what had happened since she left us, or if perhaps she had been moved by what she witnessed, but a little of the suspicion was gone from her eyes as she seated herself across from us on a cushioned chair.

"We're sorry," I muttered as I patted my skin dry.

"No, we're not." Remiel raised his chin in defiance.

"It's been a very long time since I've seen a true soul bond," Cethin said, shocking both of us. "Some believed soul bonds are only gifted to the purest souls."

Wrapping the towel around my shoulders, I met her eyes. "And what do you believe?"

Her lips quirked upward. "Another question, but I suppose it does no harm. I believe there is truth to that, but what was once pure does not always remain so once it begins its new life. That is why after each life, a soul must go through the judgment fires."

"That's kind of hard to do since Vyta is unlit."

Cethin's lips pursed together as she picked at a piece of lint on her skirt. "And is that why you came here? To try to relight the fires?"

Remiel and I shared a look. He nodded, so I answered, "It is."

"Do you think you are the first who thought to do so?"

"Actually, um... Yes?"

She burst into laughter, but there was no humor in the sound. When she calmed enough to speak, she said, "You are the twenty-first to attempt this, but I will give you this accolade. You are the first to survive the attempt. The others were gone before we ever had a chance to reach them."

Bile choked me as I imagined the twenty who had gone before me. Mara had killed all of them, and unless her madness had completely consumed her to the point of incinerating them at once, they probably experienced a slow and miserable death.

"So, tell me this. How does a young, completely untrained Deathsinger cross the continent without dying in the fires, find the only safe path to Vyta, and then keep Mara calm long enough to allow one of you to escape?"

"What does it matter?" Remiel's voice was crisp. "Vyta has to be relit. You must know this."

"We do. Why do you think we have stayed here for all these years, so close to danger? There have been times the fires have burned so hot we could feel them across the water. So hot our crops withered, and we nearly starved. We could have sent groups into the mountains to try to enter Estrellum or followed the inland sea into the Crystal Sea. But we didn't, because someone must relight the portal and allow all the trapped souls to enter the Other World."

"Why have you not told the Reapers you were here? They could have come and helped you. Instead, they have grieved your loss."

Cethin's shoulders slumped. "There are some Reapers here, though not many. We barely made it to the island when the fires broke out. So many of our kind did not. It took us a long time to figure out what happened, and then even longer to learn the rhythm of Mara's anger. We unanimously decided not to ask others to risk their lives on this mission.

"We would have gladly given our lives to save Araphel."

I reached over and squeezed his hand. He turned his palm over so he could clasp my hand in return. Cethin didn't miss the exchange.

"And if you had died, who would have brought this young Deathsinger to us?" Her green gaze moved upward slowly, finally settling on the spot behind my left ear. Right where the damning streak of white would show if I had not cut it. "The one who has already strayed from the path."

"I-I can explain."

"I'm sure you can, dear. There will be no judgment from us."

"Th-there won't?"

"How do you think we figured out what had happened to Vyta? There were so many souls trapped here, and it became a temptation for even the strongest of us. Especially those who thought it might aid them in the quest to relight the fires. The Reapers here have helped contain the souls they could, but it grows harder. Your scythes will be most welcome here."

"They are yours to command."

"Good. Now." She turned back to me. "I've asked many questions, but you have yet to answer a single one. Let's try an easy one. What is your name?"

It was my turn to laugh. "Sorry, that's more complicated than you would think."

"I'm afraid you'll have to uncomplicate it. If you can't, you'll find we have to keep you in the cells until we can figure out what to do with you."

"You can tell them," Remiel said.

Drawing in a deep breath, I nodded and answered Cethin. "I've been told my name is Moranthia Rhiannon Bedisa, but you may call me Morana."

"Shadows preserve us," Cethin whispered, her hand shaking as she covered her mouth.

"I survived today because Mara is my sister, and I'm your only chance at relighting that portal."