I balk. "You're an Heir of Kolikai? Why are you here? Where's my family physician?" I realize I'm being rude, but at the moment I can't bring myself to care.

"I'm an Heir from Kolikai," they correct. I raise my eyebrows, but they don't elaborate on the importance of the distinction.

"And I'm here because our delegation boarded at the same time as yours and because I offered to be, once I heard what happened. There are things I can do which your physician—although I'm sure they're perfectly adequate—isn't physically capable of."

For a moment I sputter, my eyes still roving over them. This is not the first encounter with a Kolikai that I'd imagined for myself. But my knee aches and throbs, and the slash across my chest and shoulder stings as though broken blades are embedded in my skin. "What can you do, exactly?"

"It's easier to demonstrate than explain. May I?" They gesture to my shoulder, which looks to have been hastily bandaged at some point while I was unconscious. "It won't hurt, I promise." I nod, although I have to work not to cringe away as they reach out to take my hands. Their touch is cold. Carefully, deftly, they remove the bandages, tsking under their breath. Then they reach back into their satchel with their left hand and place the right firmly over my wound.

My skin goes numb immediately, as though their hand is made of ice. Then the chill spreads into me, and it begins to feel wonderful—like my flesh itself is made of millions of soft, tiny stars. Shiny and radiant. Throughout all of this, their ember vibrates more and more rapidly-burning ever brighter on the web. I'm disconcertingly aware of it. Not only that, I'm drawn to it.

A desperation wells up from somewhere deep within me. A drive to travel across the short, fiery thread between us and merge myself with the brilliance of their ember. Like a moth to a candleflame. I resist, shocked and more than a little frightened by myself.

I fully appreciate for the first time that I know nothing of the extent of my abilities, or the changes the Mire had made in me. What if I lose control of myself, and—

"There," says the Kolikai Heir. Snapped out of the strange state of only heartbeats before, I study their face, realizing that they're probably a bit younger than I'd initially guessed. Nineteen, maybe twenty. They withdraw their hand, revealing beneath it the faint, silvery scars which are all that's left of the gashes. Then they pull the other out of their satchel, clenching a bundle of dead moss which they then transfer to another pocket.

They smile briefly.

"And your knee?"

"I-" I drag my eyes from theirs, fumbling for words. They quirk their head at me.

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"Y-yes, alright," I say at last, pulling up the voluminous layers of my pant leg to expose more wrappings. I grit my teeth as they peel them away. My knee is swollen and mottled in shades of purple, blue and black.

But as soon as they touch it, the tingling cold spreads through my leg, and the pain ceases. I close my eyes, losing myself again in the intoxicating rhythm of their ember. I try to redirect my focus to my breathing, but for the most part, I fail.

"Thank you," I say in a hush as they pull away and transfer more dead moss from one part of their bag to another.

"Of course," they reply, clenching and unclenching their hands in turns as they rub at their wrists. "I should get back to my own car. They'll send in your personal physician when they see me leave, although I don't think you'll be needing them." They turn from me and head towards the door at the front of the car before hesitating and looking back.

"It can be hard, being Mirefallen. Even for the lucky ones like us, with more subtle marks." Their eyes flick to a spot just above and to the side of my temple. "If you ever need someone to talk to, someone who understands—well, we Kolikai are known for our ability to keep secrets." They say, jerking their head in the direction of the sleeping form of the Fallen Hunter Guard. "You can tell him I said as much, too."

They leave the car, and within moments someone else is shoving their way in-but it's not the family physician.

"Oh, Nikka-va," Aunt Mahara exclaims as she practically throws herself at me.

For a long time, we just hug. Then my aunt pulls back from me, her hands on my arms. Her gaze catches on my hair for a moment before she meets my eyes. "I'm so sorry you had to wake up alone. We-"

"No. I'm sorry," I blurt, shaking my head at her apologies. Tears track down my face.

"Aunt Mahara. I'm so sorry I messed up. Kai—"

"Kaidin survived.," Mahara says, drawing herself up. "And I'm grateful for that."

"His arm—"

"Is no longer bleeding or hurting him. And he's had the Kiss of Sleep, so he'll get the rest he needs now."

A take a deep, shaky breath. I suppose it was ridiculous, to think that perhaps the Kolikai Heir's abilities might extend to the regrowth of limbs. She holds me close again, and for a few moments we're silent. Then she lets go of me, gently pulls away. Gathers herself.

"Nikessa, love," she begins,and anxiety bubbles to life in my stomach. I know what's coming. "Do you feel different now, after...after what's happened? Are there any changes you can sense?"

"I..."

How do I describe a sense that's so new to me that even I barely understand it? And once I do, will no one trust me ever again? My blood turns to ice.

"There are some people who could see you from the road who say they think you were the one who made the beasts run away."

I look away from her, but nod. "It's like...it's like how you can feel the presence of your akhana, but I feel the presence of everything around me, and it's like there are threads of connection that tie me to everything else. And I just...sort of pushed the command through them, and into the beasts."

For a long moment, Mahara just looks at me, her gray-green eyes troubled.

"Nikka-va, there are people who are going to be scared of you. They won't know what to think." Again, her eyes flick to my hair. She purses her lips, gathers a breath. "But I want you to know that I trust you. I know you. I know you will not misuse this. Your other aunts and uncles, your parents, the people who love you...they know this. That's what matters."

Her eyes search mine, her gaze almost uncomfortably intense. I swallow and nod. "Thank you, Aunt Mahara," is all I can bring myself to say. My voice shakes.