“It’s time to move,” Jeremy said as he watched the early morning sun climb over a distant hill.

“Where are we?” Hope asked. Stretching her wings, she looked around their campsite, a bare spot surrounded by tall grass. Remnants of ancient walls lined the clearing on three sides. Des pushed herself up beside Hope, her black body a stark contrast to Hope’s white. It was still warm enough for him to sleep without a fire, but just barely. He wondered if the Moirai felt the chill like he did.

“We’re close to St. Francis,” he said.

It felt like they had been traveling for weeks, but he knew they had left the battlefield only a day before. Fortunately, Europe was full of Sanctuaries, ancient places abandoned by people thousands of years ago. They had encountered a few lesser Moirai here and there. Still, they managed to keep to themselves, covering great distances from one to the next. He could usually sense the state of a Sanctuary before knocking. If Moirai were living there, he would reach out to the next. Places that saw ritual human sacrifice usually had the most power. Violence produced the strongest emotions. It was sad, Jeremy thought, to find what seemed to be an endless supply of places with violent pasts as they traveled the countryside. Humans were the worst, and his father’s rage and aggression had been more normal than he realized. Hope and kindness were the exceptions. Even as he recoiled from the darkness of these places, at least they helped them avoid humans and their cities.

After leaving the battlefield in France, Jeremy realized he could sense abandoned places around him for miles. It was like a map of Sanctuaries spread out in his mind. Maybe the power he’d siphoned from Crag gave him the ability, or maybe it was something he carried back from the bridge gateway’s nether. Or could it be Adelia’s memories? He didn’t care as long as it helped him reach her. They were finally a short walk away from Prague. The thought of Adelia twisted a knot in his stomach. What were they doing to her right now? Was she free from the gold? Was she in a cage?

“How will we get in?” Des asked. Unlike these ancient Sanctuaries, barren and forgotten, St. Francis was thriving with humans and Moirai. Folk could not just enter an occupied Sanctuary; after they knocked, terms had to be negotiated. He knew from Adelia’s memories that humans came and went in the chapel above, and Moirai resided below, at least during the day.

“Does Prague have a marketplace?” he asked as they started walking down a wide path. It wound down a towering hill in a meadow just outside Prague. They were close enough to sense the city and its inhabitants. Jeremy’s stomach growled, and he pulled out what was left of his last energy bar. As they walked, he took small bites, savoring each one, willing his stomach to be satisfied and wishing he had water to wash it down.

“It’s hard to make out any differences between the city and where we are. It’s almost like this entire area is a Sanctuary,” Des said.

“I bet Folk can wander far here. Imagine the freedom. No need to find Sanctuary each night,” Hope said.

“But I think something is moving toward the city, something malevolent,” Des said.

“I feel it, too,” Jeremy said. “It’s a tension. It’s getting stronger.”

“There’s so much interference here, though, I can’t make out anything for sure,” Hope said.

Pausing, Jeremy knelt beside a white stone. It sat at an angle with a sharp edge reaching up out of the dirt and grass. When he placed his fingertips on it, intending to brush away years of grime, flashes of light overtook him. An entire road of white stones appeared under his feet. Dwellings assembled themselves to his right and left, ancient rocks flying out of the ground until a town surrounded him. Down the road, past a slight bend, a central building with marble pillars stood in a common area. Eagles perched on the corners of its rooftop. A Roman settlement. He couldn’t tell if the last was his thought or Adelia’s, but he knew it was true. Women, children, and men sprang into existence all around him. Warriors in armor carried straight, wide-bladed swords as they rushed past him. He followed the ancient road, spinning on his heel as he walked, trying to see everything at once.

Everyone looked so real. The noise of wooden cart wheels on cobblestone and children crying was overwhelming. The aroma of the morning’s freshly baked bread made his stomach churn, but underneath, he smelled sweat and sensed fear. Women cradled babies and dragged wide-eyed children along by the hand while soldiers in armor dashed about, shouting orders. As the crowd thickened, Jeremy pressed himself against the wall of a building and stared at the growing chaos. The stone blocks were cool against his back.

“What is this?” he asked, but Des and Hope were gone. He was alone and invisible, watching the turmoil unfold around him. Suddenly, thousands of voices echoed through the valley. The bustling people slowed, terror registering on each face, citizen and soldier alike. Glancing up to the next hilltop, Jeremy saw the source of the rising voices. A horde of figures stood in a sprawling line, waving swords, bows, axes, and spears. Adelia’s memory told him it was a tactic to instill fear. It worked, he thought, as the townspeople slowed and seemed to take a collective breath before exploding into chaotic action. Women and children ran away from the horde, screaming. The soldiers ran toward it, their expressions hardening into grim determination.

Rational thought disappeared, even for Jeremy, as the horde raced toward town. Thousands of feet shook the earth. The collective voices raised in a single battle cry sent some of the town’s soldiers running in the other direction, past the women and children. But most of them raised shields and swords toward the oncoming horror. They were vastly outnumbered. Jeremy could see that the outcome of the battle was predetermined. Despite this, a column of Roman soldiers braced themselves at the edge of town. Others lined up around the capital building with the eagles perched high, looking down impassively at the battle about to unfold below. From the defensive line, a few soldiers glanced back at the fleeing families. Not with thoughts of abandoning their comrades-in-arms, Jeremy knew, but with a hope to catch a final glimpse of a wife, young son, or daughter.

“Archers!” an officer called from the front line.

Arrows flew, fired from archers on rooftops that he had not noticed before. The volley arched up before diving into the shrieking attackers, delivering death. But it was not enough to stop or even slow their charge. With terrifying speed, the fur-clad attackers collided with the line of armored defenders. The front line broke in what felt like an instant. Jeremy was suddenly in the midst of the violence. It was confusion and chaos on the cobblestone streets and alleys between buildings. Clashing steel, screams, and showers of blood from grievous wounds flew through the air around him.

Jeremy pressed himself into the wall as if trying to pass through it. Pushing his palms into the coolness of the stone, feeling the texture on his fingertips, he muttered, “It’s not real, not happening now.” As he watched with wide, panicked eyes, he realized there were more than people clashing with swords, axes, and spears. Moirai dodged in and out of the combatants. They weren’t fighting each other, though. He watched one small Moirai, who reminded him of Nod, place her fingertips on a man as he choked on his own blood. She whispered words of power to the invader, and his eyes closed as his chest stilled. Another, taller, Moirai, the color of night, touched a warrior’s shoulder as he drove a sword through the chest of a barbarian. Clearly, there were two sides to the Moirai, but they focused on the humans, ignoring each other.

Jeremy forgot his own terror and took a step away from the wall, studying the Folk. Where did they come from? This wasn’t a Sanctuary; it was a living town. Why did they care about human armies with human affairs? As he took a tentative step from the wall, his fear forgotten, he caught a glimpse of her skirts. Without hesitation, he dashed between the combatants. An instant later, he found her confidently striding through the battle. Her hair was long instead of the bob cut he knew, and the defiant green streak was missing, but he would recognize Adelia anywhere. His hands shook as he watched her glide between barbarians with their painted faces, mismatched armor, and fur as they struggled against the uniformly armored Romans.

Suddenly, she kneeled beside a warrior with a blue-painted face streaked with gore. His bare chest lay open, exposing splintered bone and tissue. The man’s mouth moved in what looked like prayer, and his dark eyes glassed over, but as he found Adelia’s face, his gaze snapped into focus. Her palm glowed as she placed it on his forehead and his silent prayers ceased, lips forming into a serene smile.

“Rest, brave warrior,” Adelia said. “Your deeds will be sung in this world as you move to the next.” Her words drifted to Jeremy through the din of battle, settling over the memory she had given him of this moment.

“They are the Boii, and you are their goddess,” Jeremy whispered. “A healer, born from an abandoned place long ago, ages before the Romans invaded your homeland.”

“What did you say?” Des asked, her voice coming to him from his left shoulder.

“What’s happening, Jeremy?” Hope asked from his right.

He blinked, and Adelia vanished along with the warrior’s sightless eyes and serene smile. The buildings were gone, replaced by trees and grass. The ancient stream below the village was now a gentle indention in the meadow; the waters dried up long ago.

“What happened?” Hope asked again, her voice full of tension.

“I was…” He looked around at the rolling hills. It was a peaceful landscape. “I saw a battle in this town. The buildings were around us. The main square was just there, and the capital building, or whatever the Romans called it…” Jeremy pointed to a ring of massive trees with a clearing in the middle.

“The Romans?” Des asked, leaning past Jeremy’s chin to catch Hope’s eye. Hope shrugged. “Maybe channeling Folk magic has sent you a little off-kilter.”

Jeremy ignored her. “Adelia was never a Knight of the Cross with the Red Star. The Boii were here for thousands of years. She’s so much older!” He spun around, remembering the chaos he had seen. “Nick must have…I don’t know, done something to her.”

“But why?” Hope asked.

“I don’t know, but we have to find her. She’s in terrible danger.”

Jeremy ran down what used to be the ancient street. He could sense Moirai energy all around him, faint but present. Hope and Des were right; this whole countryside was Sanctuary if you knew how to look or feel for it. And since there was so much energy, thousands of Folk could move through the hills. That must be what he was sensing.

“They’re going to St. Francis,” Jeremy said as he jogged down the path.

“Who?” Des asked.

“I don’t know for sure, probably the Boii. I mean the Moirai born from the Boii. Or Roman Moirai. I don’t know, but it’s not good, whoever they are. We have to get there before they do.”

Moments later, they entered the city. Buildings and people whizzed by in a blur. Jeremy wondered if the Folk magic made him faster or invisible, or both. No one seemed to notice them.

“How are you moving so fast?” Hope asked as the buildings and people blurred around them. Her fingers dug into his shoulder as she screamed in his ear.

“The humans see you but forget instantly,” Des yelled, clinging to his other shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said, skidding to a halt. The two small Moirai fluttered their wings and hovered as he bent over, planting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “I think we’re here.” His words came out in a rasping whisper between gasps. How far had they run? Had Adelia’s memories of the city guided him through it? They stood at the edge of St. Charles Bridge, just under a tower facing St. Francis Church. A few people strolling on the bridge looked at him curiously but turned away as they passed. Unwashed drifters were nothing out of the ordinary here.

“What do we do now?” Hope asked.

“That is a powerful Sanctuary,” Des said, gazing up at the church as she settled back onto his shoulder.

“Since this Sanctuary isn’t abandoned anymore, can’t I just walk in?” Jeremy asked.

A tourist with an oversized camera dangling from a strap around his neck looked at him sharply. “Excuse me?” he asked in an accent Jeremy didn’t recognize. The man’s wife tugged on his hand, pulling him away.

“Sorry,” Jeremy said, touching his ear. “I’m on the phone.” He stepped away, still covering his ear, and turned his head.

“Be careful. Humans are dangerous,” Hope hissed. Des chuckled on his other shoulder.

“I know,” Jeremy whispered, looking around to ensure no one else was close enough to overhear them. “I can just walk in, right?”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I suppose you can,” Des said.

“Let’s try it,” Hope said. “Humans go in all the time. If the Sanctuary is below, we’ll find an entrance once we’re inside.”

“If the church is open,” Des said.

“Think positively, Des,” Jeremy said.

“You know my full name is Despair, right? My sister got all the positive for both of us.”

“Well, we’ve been lucky enough so far. Here it goes,” Jeremy said, stepping up to the giant structure. It was square with a green, domed roof. Angelic statues perched midway up the walls stared down at him, with similar ones lining the top. As he climbed the stairs, Jeremy saw a sign advertising an organ concert later that night. The noise of the busy street, the bridge, and the river traffic faded into the background as he approached the thick wooden doors. As he placed his palm on the iron knob, he was relieved to feel it turn. Pulling the door open, they stepped inside, leaving the modern world behind them.

Instantly, he was overwhelmed by two sensations. First was the chapel’s beauty, with its domed ceiling and intricate paintings. His parents’ version of a church was a one-room house on a gravel country road. It had been an angry place with strict rules, defined roles for children, and harsh discipline. The second overwhelming sensation he felt was that of massive power. Des and Hope cringed on each shoulder.

“I’ve never…” Des started to say but trailed off.

“Nick knows we’re here,” Jeremy said, glancing around, “I can feel it.” The few people in the church sat in pews toward the front, well out of hearing range.

“We have to move quickly,” Hope said.

“What do we do?” Jeremy asked.

“Over there,” Hope said, pointing her small, chalk-white finger.

Jeremy walked past a line of pillars to the right of the pews and into an open hallway. There, he found a statue of a woman in a long shawl. Her stone face, polished and smooth, was full of sorrow. She hung her head as if in prayer.

“This might be a doorway,” Des said.

Slowly, Jeremy placed his fingertips against the statue’s cheek. A frigid wave of energy crashed through his body, and he shivered violently. Hope and Des gripped his shoulders and flapped their wings, barely keeping their balance.

“What is—” Jeremy’s words froze as the polished stone under his fingertips tugged him violently. Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but he was no match for the statue’s power. “Hope, what’s—” His body felt like it was in a blender as he flew, twisting through a dark corridor. A moment later, he crashed onto a granite floor. Sprawled face down, he let out a groan. “Hope, Des?”

“Do you know what you’ve done?” The authority in that tone reduced the memory of his father’s voice to a childlike whine. Jeremy rolled over and looked up to find himself in a room lit by flickering candlelight.

“Get up,” Hope and Des said urgently as they fluttered back onto his shoulders. Struggling to his feet, he tried not to wince as pain lanced through his abdomen. Otto and Ulrich stood to either side of Adelia’s kneeling form. Her head was bowed, showing him the top of her bobbed hair and green streak. It was the Adelia he knew, not the battlefield goddess. Does she remember now? He doubted it. Nick wouldn’t let that happen, and he was certain that Adelia wouldn’t bow to anyone, not willingly. Standing behind her, next to an ancient altar, an enormous Moirai in dark armor and a sweeping cloak glared at him.

“Let her go, Nick,” Jeremy said.

“Those humans up there will raise your reckless entry into my domain as a miracle, and we will have to deal with it for the next hundred years,” Nick said.

“Let. Her. Go.” Jeremy’s jaw tensed, and he dug his fingernails into his palms to keep from lashing out. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this angry, not even at his father.

“I’m not holding her, foolish seer. We are helping her deal with the damaged gold,” Nick said. “The gold she stole when she fled her home and betrayed us.” As Nick spoke, Jeremy noticed the bag of gold resting on top of the altar. Moirai couldn’t lie without consequences, but they also didn’t have to share the whole truth.

“This isn’t her home,” Jeremy said.

“I must continue, or she will be trapped forever.” Nick studied Jeremy as he spoke, the angry glare turning to curiosity.

“He is powerful, my lord,” Otto said, peering at him. “Something has—”

“Wait!” Nick said, turning to Adelia’s kneeling form.

Jeremy watched golden energy burst out of the gold, through Nick, and into Adelia.

“Something is wrong,” Hope whispered in his ear.

“She’s fighting back,” Des said, gripping Jeremy’s shoulder painfully.

“Where are my friends?” Jeremy asked. He would need their help to free her even if she was fighting.

“Remove them,” Nick said, waving a dismissive hand in Jeremy’s direction, not taking his eyes from his work. “I must focus.”

Otto stepped forward and reached out to take Jeremy’s arm. Ulrich didn’t move; he just stared at Adelia and back up to Nick.

“I’m not leaving without her.” Jeremy pulled his arm away from Otto’s grasp and lunged toward Adelia. Hope and Des leaped into the air and streaked into Otto’s face, sending him stumbling back against the wall. Three more Moirai charged into the room, swords at the ready, but Ulrich raised a hand, stopping them instantly.

“Adelia, wake up!” Jeremy pleaded, kneeling in front of her. With a palm on each cheek, he tilted her face up. “Please. We can’t do this without you.” The stream of energy faltered, and Nick grunted beside him, trying to keep it under control. “You’re not helping her. You’re binding her!” He glanced at Nick’s face, contorted with rage, as the Moirai struggled against the powerful flow. Was Adelia fighting, was she pushing back? “Adelia, I know who you are, and so do you.” He pressed his forehead to hers like she had done to him in the subway station. It seemed so long ago now. “Remember. Please, remember.”

He screamed as a thousand hornets dug into his back, growing more intense as Nick’s blade thrust deeper under his shoulder blade. Holding on to Adelia, he slipped his hands down to her shoulders and pressed his forehead into hers as hard as he could manage. Adelia’s eyes raced back and forth behind her eyelids but didn’t open.

“You were born from the Boii,” he whispered as the strength in his limbs ebbed. “Their goddess.” A profound fatigue settled over him then. Blinking sweat away from his eyes, he thought, not yet. I can’t give up yet. His amulet flared to life, searing his chest. Strength of the bear, massive and powerful, and wisdom of the snake, close to the earth. “For you, Adelia.” He willed every ounce of energy he could muster into her. As consciousness slipped away from him, the amulet cooled.

In the far away distance, he heard the wet sound of the blade leaving his body as Nick pulled it free. Maybe he would visit Zitkala Sa in the souvenir shop one more time before his spirit moved on. They would have a pleasant visit, and then it would be time to rest. But what if he didn’t move on? What would it be like as a ghost? Or had his sins been so severe, would he find hell? Was hell a real place? He heard a roar from Nick and a scream, but it was all far away, and he didn’t have to worry about that anymore. Somehow, in the blackness, he still felt the texture of Adelia’s skin and tried to hold the sensation, memorizing it. Her brilliant brown eyes and the stubborn green streak of hair. Her sing-song voice and tilted smile. It was enough, he thought; he wasn’t dying alone.

“What did you do?” she whispered, her voice swirling around him.

“I fixed you,” he said or thought he said. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He wondered if she understood his final words, which he thought were pretty good as far as last words went. The feel of her skin was replaced by the granite floor as he felt her lay him down. He coughed one more time, emptying the blood from his mouth. He wasn’t scared. Not anymore. Or angry at his parents. Or even confused or disappointed with himself. There was no need to escape down the open road. He had friends. He had Adelia.

“I am Adelia of the Boii.” Jeremy heard her voice through the blackness and felt her warmth pulsing through his neck and head. He knew she was trying to heal him. He tried to blink his eyes open, to tell her it was all right, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. As he struggled to speak, he was whisked upward, the blackness replaced by the scene below him. Adelia standing over him. His own body lying on the floor in a pool of blood. It streamed out of his mouth and poured onto the floor from his back. Was he dead? Did everyone float from the ceiling when they died?

“You have made a grave error,” Adelia said, rising to her feet. She turned to Nick, who held the bloodied sword at his side. “I am not Adelia of the Knights of the Cross with the Red Star.” Her head was down, eyes locked onto him, and her voice was a caged storm, moments from breaking across the landscape in front of her. Jeremy imagined it filling the entire church above and below ground, maybe even the city. It rolled out with malice and the promise of destruction. Otto raised his sword, but she lifted her index and middle finger. Lightning sparked between them and shot out. Otto fell to his knees. His sword clanged to the floor as he clawed at his bleeding eyes.

“You are bound. You can’t—”

“Shut your mouth, Lord Nickolaus, or I will remove it.” She took a single step toward him, and he flinched away. “You took me from the Boii. You saw us as a threat to your Sanctuary. You held me here so they would not attack you. You, Moirai-born descendant of the Roman invaders.” She glanced at Ulrich. “Bring my friends now.” Ulrich nodded and dashed out of the room. Hope and Des landed in front of Jeremy’s face. Stepping around the pool of blood in front of his mouth, they put their tiny hands on his cheeks. He reeled at the sensation and lifted a phantom limb to the spot where he felt their fingers. He could feel their touch! If he was still tied to the sensations of his body below him, maybe he wasn’t completely dead yet.

“If you hadn’t taken the damn gold, you would be bound to St. Francis still, you—”

“The Boii Moirai know I am free. They have left their ancient places and even now gather outside.”

Sinta, Pinta, and Nod rushed into the room and kneeled beside Jeremy’s broken form. He watched from above as Sinta ran her hands across his wounds. Up and down his limbs. He did not feel any of those touches, just the tiny fingers still on his face. Maybe Nick’s blade had severed his spinal cord.

“You’ll be fine,” Sinta bent down and whispered next to his face. His chest was not moving, and his eyes were closed.

“Liar.” Jeremy smiled in his ghostly form. Pinta pressed his hands into his back wound. The red blood smeared across his red skin, blending in. Still, he felt no touch except on his face.

“You saved her,” Pinta said.

Nod laid his head on Jeremy’s shoulder and watched Adelia raise her hands toward Nick, palms out. A writhing mass of liquid fire clashed between the two powerful Moirai. He could clearly see that Nick would fall under Adelia’s overwhelming power. How much of that had he given her? Not much, he suspected. He could sense a growing force inside her like nothing else he’d seen, not even from Crag. Sinta pulled the children’s book from her bag and pressed it to his chest. Heat flooded through his corporeal form, and a hurricane wind overcame him.

“Stop!” Jeremy rasped, blinking the world into focus through blurred tears and sweat. He was back in his body, looking up at the Moirai around him. An instant before, he’d been floating above the room, above the violence. Now he was in it, and the smell of his own blood filled his nostrils. “Sinta, please.” He gazed into her round, liquid black eyes as she pressed the children’s book to his chest. She whispered words of power that cleared his mind. “Stop,” he said again. This time loud enough for everyone to hear.

Adelia looked down at him as she kept Nick’s power at bay. Otto writhed on the floor, still clawing at his eyes. So much fighting, Jeremy thought. The Roman battlefield, the French battlefield, Logan’s death, and Crag. His parents. The hate.

“You’re a healer,” he said, raising his voice over the crackle and roar of the golden power writhing between Adelia and Nick. “I saw you in that town. Don’t let Nick change you. And the rest of the Folk here, they were your family once. Nick is paying the price for his lies. Moirai always do.” Jeremy looked at Otto rolling on the floor and then at Ulrich. “He’s corrupted, and so are those who follow him.”

“I didn’t know,” Ulrich yelled. “I swear.” He held his hand up, palm out, as if to illustrate his sincerity. Adelia grimaced as she studied his face. Nick’s power pushed toward her.

“Enough!” she roared, pressing forward with outstretched arms. An explosion shook the room, and Nick flew backward, crashing into the opposite wall. He tried to stand, but she swept her hand across her body, and he collapsed.

“None of you have to make the mistakes humans make just because you’re born from their emotions. None of you has to kill each other for…for….” Jeremy’s strength failed. He closed his eyes.

“I am a warrior and a healer, Jeremy. I can’t change that.”

“You were born from the Boii, but you don’t have to be anything you don’t want. It took me a long time on the road and your friendship to figure that out. Don’t let his fear decide who you are. And St. Francis is full of Moirai, don’t let them suffer because of him. The Boii will...” He felt the blackness envelop him again as it had before. This was the limit of Sinta’s healing power. She pressed the book harder into his chest and whispered furiously, but he knew it was no use. This time, he was going for good.

Adelia looked down at Nick. “You survive by my grace and the mercy of the Boii, for now.” Jeremy heard a flurry of motion and armor rattling as boots stomped out of the room. A second later, he felt Adelia’s hand on his cheek. The soft skin of her palm filled the surrounding blackness with warmth.

“Sinta?” she asked.

No response.

“Paralyzed,” Adelia whispered. Her voice was a song once again, the one he remembered from their first encounter at Kenneth’s Cabin. “I have to try, wait…let me.” Warmth spread from her fingertips into him.

“Adelia,” Sinta said. “He’s…it’s been too long.”

“I died,” he tried to say but wasn’t sure if the words came out.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, leaning into him.

“The gold!” Sinta cried.

“What do you mean?”

Jeremy heard loose coins jangling in the distance as the void finally took him.

Peaceful nothing.

No fear.

No anger.

No joy.

Nothing.

“It’s time to wake up.”

The melodic rhythm of Adelia’s voice.

“Please, wake up, Jeremy.”

Sinta’s high-pitched concern.

“Come on, boy, open your eyes.”

Pinta’s gravelly demand.

“You can do it.”

Hope in one ear.

“I know you can.”

Despair, the Des he knew so well, in the other.

“Is that optimism, Des?” Jeremy murmured. He felt tiny hands wrap around his cheeks and heard giggling. His mouth was full of pebbles and dust. His cracked lips burned as he moved them. Blinding light invaded the serene void as he squinted at his surroundings. “What happened?”

“You died,” Adelia said.

“Twice, probably,” Pinta said.

“To save us,” Sinta said.

“Where are we?” he asked, looking around as his eyes adjusted.

“In the Turbova Manor, a powerful Sanctuary in Prague. Can you move your fingers?” Sinta asked.

Jeremy flexed his fingers and then his toes. He lifted his hand to his face. “I can feel my body. I can move!” He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness knocked him back to the mattress. “How did you—”

“Take it slow, boy,” Pinta said. “You’re not ready to move yet.”

“How did you, you know…bring me back?”

“I saw the Moirai power in you, so I thought maybe we could bind you,” Sinta said.

“After they did, Hope and Des told us about your fight with Crag in the gateway nether,” Pinta said.

“You took Crag’s stolen power,” Adelia said. “So we could bring you back by binding you.” She held up the bag of gold that was so familiar to him now. She flashed her crooked smile and tilted her head to the side, sending the green stripe of hair over one cheek. “I’ll be carrying you in my pocket from now on.”

Jeremy smiled back. “But I’m still human. I didn’t think—”

“Not entirely. Not anymore,” Sinta said. “That power you took changed you. Maybe you could do it because you’re a seer, maybe because you were in the gateway nether, who knows?”

“The gold will heal you over time,” Adelia said. “Technically, you’re still paralyzed, but the magic is sustaining and rebuilding you. Someday, you can unbind. But until then, I’ll keep you and the gold safe,” Adelia said, bouncing the bag in her palm. She flashed that smile once again as the coins clinked.

Jeremy stared into her bright eyes. A goddess on the battlefield and a farmer at Kenneth’s Cabin. His friend and…something more? Saving him made all the difference to her, he could see. Maybe she could finally forgive herself for Logan’s death. Looking around the room, he studied all his friends. Creatures of all shapes and shades standing in a dilapidated room with peeling plaster and a lopsided chandelier. They had saved more than his physical body, he knew. And there was nothing inside him to run from anymore, no lonely roads to walk.

“It’s a deal, Moirai. But I’m counting the gold pieces first.”