For a while, Mart wandered across the terrain, though he didn’t get far—junk was scattered everywhere. Bits of metal, rusted-out machines… He found his way by touch and eventually dropped down onto a thick pipe. The last thing he wanted now was to break his legs. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he stared out at the city in the distance. He wished there was someone he could share his thoughts with—just to help make sense of them. Someone who hadn’t buried him underground for five years because it seemed like a neat solution to a secret that couldn’t come out.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

He realized Aravin had never answered his question—why people thought he was dead. Had he used one of his tinctures to make someone take on Mart’s appearance, then had them executed?

He must have. Aravin was clever enough—that much was clear—and Mart couldn’t think of another way to fake a death. If he’d truly been charged with the murder of a Scion, Vince’s family would’ve demanded to witness the execution. And so would many others. Which meant an innocent person had died to keep his secret.

He thought of his mothers. How must they have felt about his death? The orphan boy they’d taken from the Cradle turned out to be a killer.

A monster.

He had often wondered why his real parents had given him up. Now he had the answer. They must’ve known he was a Soultaker and passed him on to let someone else deal with the burden. It was a small mercy they hadn’t drowned him at birth.

Mart froze when he heard footsteps. The soft rustling of skirts told him it was Alyss. She sat down beside him without saying a word.

He felt the urge to get up and walk away from her. She reminded him of the past—of what he once had. Of a happiness he wasn’t sure he’d ever find again.

“I wanted so badly to go to you,” she whispered. “But the blood oath… It would’ve made my blood clot. It was one of the strongest tinctures he had. Or so he said. And I… I didn’t dare take the risk.” She lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Mart. You must have felt unbearably alone.”

“I wanted to die.” His voice was hollow. “But I couldn’t.” He gave a bitter snort. “Because my soul was tied to that bastard’s.”

Something else he wanted to blame Aravin for—but if everything he said was true, then his soul had made that connection. For whatever reason. Even my own soul betrayed me.

He could tell by her breathing that she was crying.

He couldn’t do much with that. In the past, he would’ve wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close. Now he felt nothing but coldness. Even toward her.

“Why now?” He kept his gaze fixed ahead. “Why did you let me go now?”

“I… The Golden Heart is dying,” she said softly. “Only a Soultaker can save it.”

Mart turned his head. “What?”

“The soul flames are dying. My brother discovered it three years ago. He—he was murdered by people who wanted to keep it quiet. I took over his research, and it’s true: in no more than ten years, the light will be gone. Maybe even in five.”

Thommen was dead? Mart shivered. He had liked the boy. A pang of sympathy twisted in his stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to offer a comforting gesture.

“And you want me to just… go find new souls somewhere?” The disbelief dripped from his voice.

She exhaled gently. “We’ll… have to train. And find dragons.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Aravin knows a monster hunter.”

He looked up, toward the faint glimmering in the sky. In Tranendal, you could never see the stars. “I’m the monster being hunted, Alyss.”

“No, Mart.” She took his hand. He didn’t pull away. “You’ve been wronged. By me, by Vin, by so many others.” She fell silent until he glanced at her. “You’re a good man, and I believe your gift can do good. It has done good. Your people… they’re getting a second chance. Will you help me? Please? So Thommen didn’t die in vain?”

He pulled his hand free. He didn’t like that she was trying to appeal to his feelings by bringing up her dead brother.

“Maybe this is how it’s meant to be, Alyss. That we all freeze to death. That humanity’s done for. We’ve made a mess of things, and I don’t feel the urge to clean it up.”

She bowed her head in defeat.

A ripple of light passed over them; the Golden Heart pulsed again. He blinked, though the glow wasn’t as strong here as it was in Tranendal. Ahead of him, Koperhaven rose—an uneven patchwork of crooked, decaying structures eternally cast in shadow. Between the city and the landing site stretched a field full of discarded machines and factory parts. Obsolete and forgotten.

Just like humanity would be, in a few years.

Mart couldn’t bring himself to mourn it.