Guilt squeezed at Ben’s chest where he knelt behind a tree while Daivad hit Kure with everything he had. He should be doing more. He should have been better about keeping up his training since leaving the army—his stamina had once been ten times what it was tonight.

All of this, Ben shoved aside because lashing himself about it wasn’t going to help Daivad or the Wolves right now. The best he could do was stay out of Daivad’s way, and help when he could.

Once again, Ben closed his eyes and sent his magic out, ignoring the vertigo that swept over him as he pushed himself beyond exhaustion. He felt the vibrations of foot- and pawsteps, felt the way the hooves and mane of the beast tickled his roots as it glided by with unreal speed. He heard the beast’s cursed cries as Drauge dove forward and tore at its hind leg, then a swoosh and a heavy thump as Drauge was thrown. He felt Daivad’s magic, felt the way he stubbornly ignored the weight that fatigue piled on him.

Ben’s consciousness blinked, and for a moment he thought Daivad had lifted the piece of earth he sat on into the air because the stars spun above him, but it was exhaustion that made the world feel like it was swaying. The pain didn’t bother him—he only felt it secondhand, like it was happening in a dream—but the fatigue was dragging him steadily toward a dream. One he might not wake from.

His consciousness must have gone for longer than a blink, because the Wolves and their battle had moved farther into the night, far enough that Ben couldn’t hear them over the sounds of battle between Daivad and Kure.

He had to go for one last push. It was all he had left.

Ben called his magic to a single point, right in the center of Daivad and Kure’s battle of flying rocks and claws. Nausea flipped his stomach and suddenly the warm night seemed chilly, but Ben just forced slow, steady breaths of air into his lungs and maintained his focus. Just beneath the broken surface of the earth, Ben grew deep, strong roots and called one of the trees there. With a wooden groaning, it walked itself to the spot and its roots snaked down through the disturbed earth to sink into Ben’s building magic.

Ben felt a nudge from Daivad’s magic. He knew what Ben was thinking. They had never mastered this technique, and they hadn’t even tried it in years. Not since Ben had turned his focus more toward farming than fighting. But it was all Ben could think of to finally give Daivad the upper hand.

Daivad’s magic poured into Ben’s.

The concept was simple. Nature and earth strengthened each other. They fed each other, a constant give and take. Couldn’t it work for their magics?

Daivad had argued that Earthbreaking wasn’t magic of the earth, but the destruction of it. But Ben knew his brother better than that—he’d seen how Daivad’s magic could be used to protect life as well as to take it. So he had asked Daivad to trust him, and to try it.

It had never really worked before, mostly because Daivad had decided it wouldn’t—but this time Ben hoped Daivad was too distracted to overthink his own practice.

The tree drew upon the earth, infusing itself with minerals and magic. The world steadied and Ben’s limbs suddenly felt strong and sure. The tree stretched its branches, new leaves bursting all over, the stiff twigs growing strong and pliable. The bark hardened like stone.

In pouring his magic into Ben’s, Daivad left himself at a greater disadvantage than he already was, his magic and his movements slowing, weakening. Kure shrieked something in that twisted language, seemingly furious that he was winning as he bore down upon Daivad. He zipped through the trees, dodging Daivad’s rock and earth easily, and lunged. There was no time to call up a shield.

Their magics worked as one, and the tree lashed out, strong, grayish-green vines whipping around Kure’s limbs. As before, Kure simply slashed at the vines with his limbs—but these vines were tough. By the time he’d sawed through one, two more had snapped around him. Kure’s arms were yanked up into the tree, pulled taut to either side. Then the roots seized his legs, stringing him tight enough that he couldn’t move to practice. The Selachian roared and thrashed—until a vine whipped around his neck, choking…

Ben felt the vertigo take him over, felt the last of his magic slip from his grasp, and then slumped sideways to the ground, unconscious.

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What felt at once like mere moments but also several days later, Daivad’s voice brought Ben back to the world.

Ben found himself on his back, Daivad’s filthy, bruised, half-swollen face over him while he traced familiar runes over the bloody parts of Ben’s tunic with a clawless hand. Healing runes. “You back?” Daivad asked.

Ben managed a grunt.

A warm, pleasant sensation bloomed over the areas that Daivad healed, making Ben realize how cold he felt. Like he’d spoken the thought aloud, Daivad shrugged off his cloak and laid it over Ben. It was soaked with so much sweat and blood, and those were the parts that weren’t in ribbons, so it did little to warm him up, but he appreciated the gesture.

When Daivad started to tuck him in, Ben drew the line. He protested, “I’m alright.”

Daivad growled.

“Kure?”

“Smashed his skull in.”

“The Wolves?”

“Still fighting.”

“Go help them.” From under his swaddling, Ben tried to nudge Daivad’s hand away from him with his elbow.

Daivad shot a pointed look toward the chittering darkness, the monstrous eyes glowing hungrily in the shadows, waiting for the moment Daivad left Ben alone. With the battle over, they had returned to pick over the loser. Dryly, Daivad said, “I thought you were against feeding monsters.”

Ben couldn’t argue with that. But that luminescent beast, its giant, vertical mouth and eerie essence—he was worried about the Wolves. He cursed his helplessness.

Daivad grabbed Ben’s bag and pulled out one of Kadie’s potions and uncorked it before sliding a hand under Ben’s neck to lift his head.

“I—” Ben tried to argue, tried to fight one arm free so he could hold the bottle to his own lips, but the moment his lips parted Daivad had tipped the potion into his mouth.

In seconds, his chill was gone and a headache he hadn’t even realized he had dulled slightly. He blinked his suddenly much lighter eyelids in time to see Daivad sticking a canteen in his mouth this time. Ben gave up on arguing and drank deeply.

“Shouldn’t have pushed yourself,” Daivad growled.

Ben shot Daivad a look.

“What?” Daivad challenged.

“You made it look so fun,” Ben started. Perhaps exhaustion or maybe the potion had loosened the very fine filter behind Ben’s tongue, but regardless, the words flowed out. “Taking on the world alone, shutting out anyone who gives a fuck about you. Thought I’d give it a try.”

Daivad narrowed his eyes at Ben, but there was no fire behind the glare, no depth in his growl. He eased Ben’s head back down and sat back. Then gave a rumbling sigh.

“…I know.”

Ben felt something click back into place. Felt the ground steady beneath him. The world was right again. Slowly, Ben tugged one arm free of both his and Daivad’s cloaks wrapped around him.

“Ay—”

“The potion helped,” Ben explained, shoving Daivad’s cloak away. He pushed himself into a sitting position, then tried to stand.

“Where are you going?” Daivad growled.

“To make sure he’s really dead.”

“I know how to kill.”

“But I’m not sure he knows how to die.”

So Daivad pulled Ben’s arm over his too-big shoulders and helped him over the still-shattered earth. The tree came into view, its stony vines still holding the position it had when it strung Kure up, but the Selachian’s body had shifted back to its (mostly) human form. He sat slumped against the tree, head tipped back.

Daivad released Ben’s arm so Ben could lean forward and look closer, resting his hand on the tree for support. In the early, early morning light, Ben could see a clear dent in Kure’s skull, making him look like a half-deflated bounceball. The eye on that side of his head was popping slightly out of its socket, staring off to the left. And still, the Selachian wore that razor-toothed grin.

Ben took a deep breath, and then said, “Guess it’s time to call the Wolves and go home. Did you get that stone back?”

Daivad was silent.

Ben couldn’t help it. He laughed, ignoring how it made his wounds twinge.

Daivad cut his eyes at Ben and opened his mouth to retort, but then the wind shifted, severing Daivad’s growl. His eyes glazed over, and he took a deep, deep breath—Ben’s first thought was that one of the monsters who’d been watching them had decided to finally come after them, but Daivad wasn’t bracing for another fight. He was drinking in whatever scent the wind had brought his way.