Down in her workshop, Nagi dozed beside the fireplace, with one hand resting in the flames. She kept expecting Sylesh to come over and tug on her hair. At the thought of Sylesh, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Sylesh, sahad,” she whispered. “Where are you now?”

She still resented Vraelen for sending him away, and most of all, she feared what would happen if he did not pass his test. Would he be killed? Would she be killed with him?

She sat up. Mahrag-and-Bahrag sat across the room, lost in their book. Nagi had asked them to keep her company, and to her astonishment, they had agreed. She spoke up. “What is that book, anyway?”

“The Sentinels’ Tome,” they said. “The stories of every Razaghal and Ferash Therall in existence. We add on to it continually as our knowledge grows and more things come to pass.”

Nagi walked over and looked down at the page they were staring at. Words and images formed on the page as she watched. She raised her eyebrows. “Most impressive. A remarkable gift. Whose tale are you working on?”

“Sotka,” they said. “All has come to pass for him.”

She crouched down and examined the page more closely. There was an image of Sotka in Azvalath’s arms, eyes and mouth wide open, blood all over him. She could almost hear him howling in agony. Was that what awaited all of them? A violent death?

Nagi asked the question burning on her mind. “Why did it happen?”

“He was alone,” they said. “His sahad died. A Ferash Therall must never be alone.”

She swallowed hard. “What about Sylesh? What’s going to happen to him if he…if he…?”

“If he deserts?” they finished. “That, we don’t know.”

“Do you know where he is?” Nagi asked.

The two snow leopards looked at each other for a moment, then answered. “He’s safe.”

“Tell me what’s happening,” she said.

“Our focus is elsewhere,” they said.

Nagienvik rolled her eyes. “Well, I need your focus for just a moment.” She snapped her fingers. “Come on. Tell me what’s happening.”

They didn’t look up.

A short burst of flame erupted from Nagi’s hands. The Sentinels recoiled in instinctive terror. Nagienvik gritted her teeth. “I need to know. Tell me!”

“Know your place, Nagienvik,” they growled. “We could just leave you here for the kralls to come and get you. You’re quite vulnerable with your mind like this, and you know there are too many to burn them all.”

“But you won’t,” said Nagienvik, “because you don’t want the burden of my death on your shoulders.”

They looked at each other, then back at Nagi. “The world turns, Nagienvik. Everything that is born, dies. There is no sorrow for us in the turning of the world. Only in the end of the world.” They paused. One of them licked its paw. Then they both stiffened. “A Kai’rei is home who should not be home.”

Nagi blinked. “What?”

“Vraelen has given the order. Did he not receive it?” They both stood up. “No, he’s coming this way. Right…now!”

They darted over and shoved the door open. A vaguely familiar young man fell to his knees in front of the Sentinels. “I…I need to…talk to Nagienvik,” he stammered, clearly out of breath. “She’s here, right?”

They parted to let him through. He crawled toward Nagienvik and dropped to lie on his back. Then she recognized him. It was Perst, the young man she had met in Teron. She blinked a few times. “I never thought I would see you again. You? A Kai’rei?”

He laughed bitterly. “You wouldn’t believe what’s under some people’s skins.”

“What do you need me for?” she asked.

“I need you give me some arrowheads,” he said. “Good, sharp broadheads. I can’t wait to put one through Azvalath’s chest.” He wiped sweat from his brow. “After what he did to me, I want him to suffer.”

“What happened?” Nagi asked.

“I thought I had him back in our grasp. I thought I had turned him onto the right path,” said Perst, “but then he impaled me and threw me off a cliff.”

Nagi’s eyes widened. “How are you still alive?”

“I went through a few blueholes. Healed me up a bit and got me back here. My ribs are still broken, and I’ve lost a lot of blood,” said Perst. “Azvalath clearly still remembers his training as a Kai’rei.”

Nagi shook her head. “Azvalath is a Kai’rei?”

“Yeah,” said Perst, “and he’s completely out of his mind. Though it explains some things. It sure as dirt explains how he’s so good at killing.” He sat up. “But I’ll see justice served. I swear it.”

“We hate to tell you this,” said the Sentinels, “but the odds are that he’ll kill you.”

“I don’t think so.” Perst grinned. “I’ve got a lightningfisher and he doesn’t. Valataer will zap them all to cinders.”

“Right.” The Sentinels looked back down. “You charm beasts.”

“Val, as it happens, came to me on her own accord,” said Perst. “She’s a devout worshiper of the Iron God. Can’t say that for the horse I manipulated to turn his hooves on the Razaghal. He wasn’t a real Kai’rei. Just a beast.”

Nagienvik snorted. “Tell me it was that bitch woman Machli’s horse.”

“Who else?” said Perst. “She’s dead now too. Azvalath butchered her after she heard him speaking Razar to me.”

“Good on him,” said Nagienvik. “Now, that’s enough chatting. Let’s get you those broadheads.”

“Come on, Nagienvik. Don’t you know how good it feels to speak Razar after so long? It’s like everything makes sense all of a sudden.”

Nagi got up and beckoned Perst to follow her. “You’re in luck. I made a whole mess of new broadheads after Sylesh left. I wanted to make a sword, but I didn’t have enough ichor for that. And I’m sick of making knives.” She handed him a small wooden box. “Careful, they’re sharp.”

“As they ought to be. You have any use for my old arrowheads? They’re only plain iron,” said Perst. “Could you use that for anything? Scrap?”

“Hardware, perhaps, but not weapons. Only ichor for my weapons.” She pulled a broadhead out of the box and admired it. “When it comes out of the shrine pool, it’s silver. When you heat it hot enough, it turns blue and toxic before cooling into this astounding metal. Truly a gift from our god.”

Perst shrugged. “Interesting.” He detached one of his old arrowheads and gave it to Nagienvik. “Can you melt metal with your hands?”

“Watch me.” She closed her hand around the arrowhead and coursed heat through it until white-hot molten metal dripped between her fingers. An excruciating chill spiked through her. “Oh, fuck!” she hissed, then stumbled over and shoved both hands into the fire. The chill faded slowly. “Sorry,” she said. “I overdid that melting. Good grief, I’m cold.”

She turned and saw that the Sentinels were staring at her with wide, alarmed eyes.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“It’s not about you,” said Mahrag-and-Bahrag. “It’s about Sylesh. Come here.”

Nagienvik came and crouched over the Sentinels’ Tome. She saw two blank pages. “I don’t understand.”

“These are Sylesh’s pages,” said the Sentinels. “We don’t know what happened to them. They weren’t blank before.”

“What’s going on?” Perst asked.

“We don’t know,” she said. “You didn’t do anything to the book, did you?”

“Me?” Perst asked. “How could I have done anything? I charm beasts, not books.”

“Wait,” said the snow leopards. “Look. Something’s coming to us.”

She looked back down. An image had begun to form on the page. “What’s that?” she asked.

No one answered.

Nagienvik watched the image form. She felt the chill all over again, but it wasn’t from cold. Goosebumps spread across her arms and legs. The creature in the image was not Sylesh. It had white eyes and jagged teeth. Then came a dizzying sense of déjà vu. Red glowed between those cavernous jaws, the same red that was now reflected forever in all their eyes, for they had all seen her.

Perst came over, took one look at the page, and screamed at the top of his lungs. The sound startled all of them. “The Reverse…she’s getting through…how?” Perst grabbed the page and nearly tore it in half before the Sentinels swatted him away.

“Wait,” said Nagienvik. “Is this what’s happening to Sylesh right now?” Sudden panic sped her breathing. “Is he dead? Dying? What’s going on?”

The twins were quiet for a while. Nagienvik’s hands burned red-hot with anxiety. She held her breath and stared at the image of Kaosaan’s jaws. It looked less distinct than it had a moment ago. She wondered whether the image was actually fading, or if it were wishful thinking on her part.

She bowed her head, closed her eyes, and prayed to the Iron God, though she doubted it would be heard. “Valad, Ferash. Lead my sahad out of darkness. Keep him from the abyss. I beg you.”

Perst took a deep breath and joined her in prayer. “Light his way, o Ferash, as we will light yours, one day that shall come.”

“One day that shall come,” said Mahrag-and-Bahrag. “A day that we shall see without pain, without fear of light. Let Sylesh see that day beside us.”

“Valad.” Nagienvik finished the prayer and opened her eyes. When she looked back at the Sentinels’ Tome, the image of Kaosaan was gone, replaced by a silver fox carrying Sylesh in its jaws. Its gaze bore all the power and mercy of the Iron God. Her sahad had been saved.