In all the years I'd dreamed about the life I'd forgotten, I had rarely considered what it would be like to be reunited with my parents. Usually, I assumed they were dead, since that was the only acceptable reason for us to have been parted. At least in my child's mind.

After I discovered the truth about my identity and my family, I still hadn't dwelled much on seeing my parents. Mara had taken up most of my attention, and I knew my mother was trapped beyond Dycidium. Until the moment Cethin said we were going to meet my father, I didn't realize I had simply assumed he was dead.

"Now, I should warn you about something," Cethin said as she appraised my appearance with a slight frown.

I wore a plain white dress and robe that had been borrowed from some of the younger Deathsingers. Being clean and wearing a dress again felt odd after so many days spent in trousers and covered in ash. Like I was pretending to be someone else, but Cethin had nearly swallowed her tongue when I asked if there was an extra pair of trousers.

"And what warning is that?" Remiel asked, settling his Reapers's cloak on his shoulders.

He'd shaved his face and trimmed his hair while I changed. It made him look younger. Unless you gazed too long into his eyes. There, behind the golden flecks, I could see the phantoms of past horrors staring back at me.

Cethin picked up a strand of my hair, rubbed the silky pieces between her fingers, and then nodded as if she had made up her mind. She disappeared into the back of the house, leaving Remiel and me staring after her in confusion.

"I guess it can't be too bad," I said, sitting on the padded window seat and peering through the foggy glass.

"Or it's so bad she's stalling," Remiel replied.

I pulled away from the window, leaving a smudge behind where my forehead had touched the glass. "That's not helpful."

"Sorry."

He shrugged, not looking the least bit sorry. I sucked on my lips to stop myself from smiling. The movement and expression on his face gave him a boyish air. It was almost enough to distract me from what was to come.

"Did you know?"

"That he was alive?" Remiel asked. When I nodded, he sighed. "There were rumors. Some called it false hope. Just before the fires broke out, a vast majority of the Reapers were engaged in a battle near the Vesper. Your father was there, leading the charge. Araphel was winning."

I winced, remembering that last battle in the Vesper all too well. The kind couple who took me in had hidden me away in the cellars just before the soldiers came. For days, I sat in darkness. It was strange to think my father had been so close to me during that time.

Remiel continued. "Supposedly, your father received a message from your mother, and he told his army to retreat. To not return home and find a place of safety. Then he rode toward Araphel. The fires began days later, and most Reapers assumed he perished in them, since a few of the survivors who made it to the Reaper's fortress in the mountains mentioned that the king had helped them escape."

Rubbing at my temples, I tried to insert these additional details into the missing spaces of my memories. "How does any of this make sense, though?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was there the night Mara took the fires of Dycidium into her. The fires would have started shortly after."

"Yes, I would assume so. I can't imagine she controlled them for very long, given what we saw of her."

"But I lived with the couple in the Vesper for two years before the last battle of the war. The timeline doesn't add up."

"Perhaps Mara did control it for a time?"

"Maybe?" I frowned, not convinced. "And my mother couldn't have sent a letter to him. "Maybe?" I frowned, not convinced. "And my mother couldn't have sent a letter to him, as she was already trapped."

Remiel rubbed the back of his neck. "You're right. And we heard you had died some time before the fires."

"So sorry," Cethin called out, walking back into the parlor with her hands full of ribbons and gems. "Turn around and let me fix your hair."

"Is this really necessary?" I grumbled. My conversation with Remiel had tamped down some of my anxiety, but it returned in full force as she pulled a brush through my hair. If we didn't start moving soon, I didn't know if I could make myself go.

"Yes." Her hands moved quickly, twisting and pulling at my hair until my scalp screamed. "You cannot go before the king without the proper attire. This is the ceremonial hairstyle all Deathsingers wear when they are presented at Court."

"I don't get why that matters? Don't I get a pass for being his long-lost daughter returned from the dead?"

She slowed. "That was actually the warning I wanted to give. I didn't tell him who you were."

I whipped around and gaped up at her. "Why not?"

"Because he can be...unpredictable these days. He might have hugged me, and he might have had me thrown into the cells. Mention of his family especially sets him off."

"So, what did you tell him? Why is he granting us an audience?"

"The only thing he truly cares about is relighting the portal. I told him we had miraculously recovered another Deathsinger, and that she wanted to relight it. He grants an audience with anyone who is willing to try. To give his blessing."

"Oh..." I turned back around and let her finish my hair. "And am I supposed to keep my identity a secret? How are we supposed to find out about why they told everyone I was dead if I can't tell him who I am?"

"Let us see how it goes. You favor him, and though I am sure you are much changed since he last saw you, a good father will recognize his child." She placed a silver chain on my head. The metal was cool against my forehead.

"Okay." My voice shook. "Let's go meet him."

"Morana," Cethin said, her expression solemn as she watched Remiel take my hand in his. "You are not the only one who has changed. He will not be the elf you remember."

"You're probably right, but then again, I cannot remember much. Until this morning, I did not even have hope that he was alive. I will take whatever version of my father that remains."

We shared a small smile and then left her cottage. At this early hour of morning, the streets were almost empty. Mist, not yet burned away by the sun, drifted over the road and fields like a great gray wave. There was very little in the way of noise beyond the occasional bird calling out and the whisper of the waves on the shore. I might have called it idyllic if not for the smoke tainting the breeze.

"Is your Reaper fortress up there?" I asked, pointing at the mountain ranges in the distance. It had been too dark to see them last night.

"Yes. Near the peak of the one closest to us. It is called the Haven."

"That's appropriate."

Remiel bumped me with his shoulder. "Did you know Estrellum is on the other side?"

My eyes widened. Astreia's homeland was just on the other side? Would it be too much to hope that she had somehow made it there? That she could be as close to relighting Vyta as I had been? My eyes grew watery.

Seeing my distress, Remiel cleared his throat and tried to distract me with more facts. "The entire range is called the Elysi Mountains, but each peak has its own name."

"What is that one?" I asked, pointing to the tallest and most distant peak. The way it sparkled reminded me of Astreia's skin in the moonlight.

"Starfyre." Remiel's tone shifted to one of reverence. "It's a very terribly kept secret, but that is where Vyta stands."

"I didn't realize the portals were so close to one another."

"Remember. It's a secret." He winked at me, earning a soft laugh.

Cethin stepped onto a worn dirt path that led into a copse of trees. She motioned for us to follow, and after a last look at Starfyre, I hurried after her. Once we stepped into the shadows of the trees, Remiel's entire demeanor changed, and his hand went over his shoulder to reach for his scythes. When he remembered they were not there, he cursed.

"What's wrong?" I asked, scanning the dimly lit path for threats. There was nothing obvious to my eye. Only the heavy weight of Death magic, and I would not admit to him I found it comforting.

"At ease, Reaper," Cethin said, catching onto Remiel's unease. "You never met the king, did you?"

"I only saw him from afar. Once."

"Even before the wars, to be in his presence was difficult for some. Especially those of us who possess an affinity for his type of magic. Death magic."

"It bothers you?" I asked.

"Bother is not the right word. Have you ever gorged yourself on your favorite sweet?"

"Yes."

"And you know that moment when the pleasure of eating it becomes pain?" I nodded. "That is what it feels like for many of us. It is simply too much."

"I see."

She reached out to pull aside a curtain of flowering vines that blocked the path. She paused. Curiosity brightened her green eyes as she looked at me. "You don't feel that way, do you?"

Remiel squeezed my shoulder when I hesitated. There was no judgment in his touch or gaze, so I sighed and answered, "I don't. It feels exhilarating."

Cethin laughed. "You really are his daughter."

"You doubted, and yet you brought us here?"

"One can never be too trusting." She pulled back the curtain and pointed down the path. There, a single tower made of ravenstone stood, its white walls glowing faintly. "King Keres waits for you inside."