Heleitia waited among the stones and waters of Little Ikfael’s so-called Glen, the pool’s banks overrun by the engorged falls feeding it. All the rivers, streams, and brooks in her territory had surged in the storm’s aftermath, and many trees had fallen too. Yet it had been a small price to pay for a heaven-sent opportunity.

Heleitia had followed the narrow, narrow path charted by the stars for a millennium, and the day had finally come. She’d felt her beloved’s passing, the wall between them shuddering as it happened. The path had proved true, after all: Amleila was free.

From the beginning, every future revealed by the stars’ light had indicated perpetual slavery for both Amleila and Asiik—all except for one, a place in the sky of dim uncertainty. Pursuing that future had meant hiding for hundreds of years so a small village could become foolish, so a brave young girl might sacrifice herself, and so a god would one day come visiting.

Diriktot had asked her to watch over the boy he’d left in her territory. The lad had been unassuming and not too bright. Under the stars, he’d been shown to be bland and his future dim. Yet how could that be, with the god’s touch on him?

The stars wouldn’t have lied. The answer must’ve been that Diriktot hid Eight’s potential from divination. So instead, Heleitia had peered at the futures of those around him to see how they prospered, and with relief she’d found she’d been right to follow the path the stars had shown her.

Little Eight’s allies flourished, abundantly so. And his enemies fell, the low and the high, one after the other. All that was left, then, was to point him in the right direction.

There was such gratification in a divination proven correct. A spear thrown a thousand years ago had hit its mark.

From what she’d seen in the aftermath, Ikfael and Eight must’ve become silvered and gained immensely from her beloved Amleila’s death. Even better, the shadow across time that Baxteiyel had cast was disrupted. Baxta’s footsteps were now obscured, so anyone attempting to follow after him would find nothing but frustration.

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May those miserable creatures eat their own dung, she thought, and choke on their twisted ambitions.

Her zashareen had grown too large for the Glen. It was time for them to move on. Little Ikfael’s potential was now masked by dim uncertainty too. She and Eight must’ve become beloved—their fates intertwined. The heartbreak once illuminated by the stars was no longer visible.

Heleitia’s thoughts grew cloudy as she considered the relationship between the two. A spirit of the land’s blessing didn’t come easily, but Heleitia prayed they’d have an easier time than she’d had with her beloveds.

May Ikfael and Eight prosper; may their bonds be a source of strength and not misery; and may they wander as they like, finding contentment in this world of striving.

The two of them were free to do so now, their small argument resolved. With Ikfael’s duty to Heleitia complete, the otter could go wherever she liked. Not every spirit of the land tied themselves to a territory, after all, and the reckoning at the end of the Long Dark could be managed with a little forethought.

The idea was attractive enough that Heleitia pondered it too. Her other zashareen had all grown into fine spirits in their own rights. Let Leilu and Aetheleita care for this land in her stead, so that—she felt a flutter of nerves—so that she might leave too. Perhaps to join Asiik.

After Amleila’s passing, Heleitia had removed the block to their soul bridge, but then Asiik had erected his own—his thoughts and emotions remaining hidden from her. She’d once again depended on the stars to show her the way, and through them she’d learned that he roved the countryside. Even while the storm had still raged, he’d lashed out in anger at a thousand years of forced service.

In no future did he stay near Baxteiyel, but how else might his slavery have changed Heleitia’s beloved? The soul bridge between them was permanent, but might he never want to see her again? The stars had held no answer to that question. Too many choices in between had remained unmade.

The nervousness Heleitia felt was unbecoming, though she couldn’t help the fearful anticipation. In truth, the answer lay in both of them leaving this place together. Let Eight’s Deer God take the land if he wanted. All Heleitia needed now—

Far to the east, Asiik changed directions, winging toward her.

Oh gods, please let it be.