Liv had declared that she intended to depart Al’Fenthia by nightfall, and in the end it was a close thing. The days had grown short and the nights long, which caused her a bit of concern regarding their mission at the Tomb of Celris; in any event, the sun was dipping below the western mountains when she and her friends gathered at the waystone.

After her grueling session with her grandmother and Aira Tär Keria, Liv had returned to her guest rooms in the tree-top manor for long enough to bathe and get a change of clothes. The dress that had been provided for her was in forest colors: unsaturated browns and greens that would not draw the eye against foliage. They would have been fine for hunting in the summer, but against white snow she would have preferred one of her white dresses.

Still, she’d strapped her battered armor on over it. The enchanted leather pieces had seen Liv through everything from the scrabbling hands of corpses at the Well of Bones, to a fall out of the sky onto the mountainside. The white finish was scraped, pitted, cut and scarred. She’d lost a piece of the skirting when the eagle had attacked. As far as Liv could tell, the enchantments were still functioning, but she wasn’t certain for how much longer that would be true. Liv wondered whether she might be able to have something done about that at Mountain Home.

A small farewell party had met them at the waystone. Airis ka Reimis was, it turned out, commanding the encampment in Varuna so that Liv’s father could see her off. The merchant’s kwenim and son had come, however, along with both the elders who had put Liv through her paces earlier in the day; Sidonie stood next to Aira in a clean dress, with the attitude of someone ready to take notes at any moment. Two warriors of House Bælris stood close by Keri’s side, speaking in low tones. Even Steria was there, the mare’s reins in Arjun’s hand.

“I almost feel embarrassed to bring it up,” Vari said, walking up to Liv and standing an arm’s length from her. “But I am under the impression that my father and mother negotiated a few terms with you.”

Liv couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes. It seems a bit less urgent than everything else that is happening, but that’s true. The first was simply to come north, and meet you,” she recalled. For a moment, she remembered a much younger version of herself boldly shaking hands with the Elden merchant she’d only just met. “I consider that one fulfilled.”

Vari smiled and nodded. “I suspect that my father wanted to arrange a match between us,” he admitted. “No, that isn’t quite true. I know – he said as much many times.”

Liv heard a bootheel scuff on stone, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Rosamund frown. She realized that her friend was jealous, and wasn’t certain how she felt about that. “I’m not looking to be matched any time soon,” she said. “I decided that after the attack on the Hall of Ancestors.”

“No, I understand,” Vari said, shaking his head. “And I agree. I hope you don’t take this unkindly, Liv, but – I don’t think anything like that would work between us, in any event. Your aunt’s ghost still hangs over us both. We each carry her name. I think if we were together the legacy would be suffocating.”

Liv smiled. She was glad that the young Elden man seemed to have no interest in pushing a betrothal of some kind. “We’re agreed on that, then,” she said. “But I do owe you one other obligation. The imprint of a word of power. Only, after talking with our grandmothers, I understand a bit more of how such things are done among our people, and I’m not certain any of the words I know would be very complimentary to yours. As I understand it, Cer is about growing things.”

“I’ve given that a bit of thought,” Vari admitted. “I know you have the words of the mages guild, in addition to Cel.”

“Cel, Luc, Aluth, Cei, and now Dā,” Liv told him. “But I can’t give you Aluth. I’ve taken an oath to the mages’ guild not to teach that to anyone who hasn’t earned the rank of apprentice.”

“And you would keep that oath, even after what they’ve done to you?” her father called over. It was clear that Valtteri had been keeping one ear open to the conversation, but until now Liv’s father hadn’t seen fit to get involved. “They attacked you. Chased you out of Coral Bay, where you should have been safe. They’ve tried to paint you as a murderer.”

“That wasn’t the guild,” Liv said, turning to meet her father’s eyes. “That was a few people, serving Benedict. Most of the guild probably has no idea what actually happened. A lot of them only voted to accept Genevieve Arundell because they were frightened of what would happen if they didn’t.”

“A good portion of them did it out of greed,” Sidonie pointed out. “She bribed them with a word of power, and they fell all over themselves to get it.”

Liv nodded. “I think a lot of them are going to come to regret that,” she said. “But regardless. I’ve tried to do what I think is right. I don’t feel that learning Luc was wrong - magic shouldn’t be constrained by laws. I killed Anson Fane in self defense. But this oath, I’ll keep, because I gave it freely, and that means something.”

“Did you make any promise regarding Cei?” Vari asked her.

Liv shook her head, somewhat surprised. “You aren’t interested in Dā? There must be some spells that use time magic to help in maturing crops more quickly,” she pointed out. Even if she didn’t know of any, it seemed a safe assumption. “I only know of a single archmage spell that used dreams, and the man who created it is dead now.”

“I actually think that’s exciting,” the young man admitted, with a grin. “I can be something of an explorer - I can break new ground. Perhaps I can grow flowers whose scent promises restful dreams? Willow-bark that not only dulls pain when brewed in a tea, but also helps the wounded to sleep?”

“You’ve given this a bit of thought,” Liv realized. And perhaps it made sense – that the young man who’d lived his entire life carrying a dead woman’s name, guided by his father’s plans, would want to do something entirely his own. Something that no one had ever done before.

”I have,” Vari confirmed. “Have you ever done this before?”

Liv pursed her lips. “No. But I’ve seen it done, and I know the incantation,” she assured him. It would be a day of firsts, it seemed. A part of her - the portion that yearned for the luxury of time she’d had when learning from Master Grenfell for all those years - felt rushed. As if she’d started running downhill, and now had so much momentum that she couldn’t stop without falling.

“Would you like to sit down?” she asked. Vari nodded, and they found a place off to one side of the waystone, in the dust of the encampment. There, they each crossed their legs, facing each other. Liv reached her hands out, and the young Eld leaned forward so that she could reach his head.

It was a jarring intimacy, one that Liv wasn’t entirely comfortable with. She didn’t really know Vari. If it had been Arjun she was imprinting with a word, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

”Dō Cei,” Liv intoned.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

The word of sleep and dreams rushed forward, like a flood carrying all the winter snows down from the peaks. Mana surged out through Liv’s fingers into Vari’s head, and Liv had only the faintest sense of what precisely the magic did to him. It worked a change, certainly, and she suddenly found the young man collapsing, bonelessly, forward into her.

Liv was afraid to remove her hands until she was certain the process was complete, so she simply put up with Vari’s larger body, slumped against her shoulder and chest, while she did her best not to fall over under his weight. It was a bit embarrassing, and she resolved that the next time she did something like this, she would follow her grandmother’s example and make certain the other person lied down.

Finally, the magic trickled to a halt. “Help,” Liv said, and both Keri and Rose knelt down beside her. Together, they rolled Vari off her and down onto the ground.

Liv stood and brushed her dress off. It had been clean. She glanced to the waystone. Should they wait until he’d woken up before they left?

”Go along,” Aira told her. “I can take care of the boy when he wakes. Get yourselves to Mountain Home and don’t worry about us.”

Liv nodded, and turned to Sidonie. “I’ll miss you,” she told her friend.

”It won’t be long,” the other girl promised. “And when we meet back up again, I’ll have all the notes we need to take control of the rift in the badlands.” Her eyes twinkled behind her spectacles, and Liv knew that wouldn’t be the only information filling Sidonie’s notebook: she would pry every piece of knowledge she could out of Elder Aira, before she left Al’Fenthia.

Liv turned to her grandmother, who immediately embraced her. “Will you be staying here?” she asked.

Eila leaned back, but a grasp on Liv’s shoulders. “No. We have six houses working together, but that may not be enough. I’ve spent too long grieving when there’s work to be done. I’ll make my way on a tour of the north, and do what I can to bring more allies to the fight,” she said. “But we will see each other again. That, I promise.”

Liv nodded, released her grandmother, and turned finally to her father. “I know you didn’t want me to do this,” Liv said. “Thank you for accepting it.”

”Don’t think for a moment that I like this,” Valtteri said. “I don’t suppose there’s any hope of me talking you out of this plan?”

”Not at this point,” Liv confirmed.

”Then please, please be careful,” her father begged. “If you get in over your head, there’s no shame in retreating. You’re more help to us all alive, than lost beneath the ice.”

Liv bit her lip. “I don’t intend to fail,” she said. But she also didn’t want to worry her father too much; he would be in enough danger of his own without the distraction. “This is not by any means the first rift I’ve entered, and I have a good team. The Tomb isn’t erupting, so far as we know.”

"It was only a routine eruption when your aunt went there,” Valtteri said. “But perhaps you’re better suited to do this than she ever was. My sister’s first love was blades, not magic. You’re far more flexible than she ever was.”

”I’ll meet you in Varuna,” Liv promised. “Just make certain you’ve found that rift for us by the time I get there.”

”You don’t need to be concerned with that,” her father said. “I believe I have the easier task, of the two of us.”

Liv embraced him for a long moment, and allowed herself to close her eyes. Then, she stepped away and walked over to the waystone, where she took Steria’s reins in hand. Rosamund, Arjun and Keri all followed her onto the slab of white rock. Keri’s two warriors were a step behind. She hadn’t realized they’d be coming, but Liv decided they could speak about that in Mountain Home.

The four of them surrounded the sigil, knelt, and pressed their palms to the stone. The two warriors faced in opposite directions, and Liv realized they were keeping watch for an ambush. She pushed a tendril of mana into the rock, and watched as blue light began to spread from the sigil.

Around them, brightness erupted, blotting out Liv’s last view of the people they were leaving behind.

☙

This time, Liv didn’t stumble.

Mountain Home was both north and west of both Al’Fenthia and Whitehill, but still built on the same mountain range. Compared to the hot, wet air of Varuna, or even Coral Bay, it still felt like home to her. It was an odd thought, that Keri had grown up so close to where Liv had spent her childhood - and yet it might as well have been an ocean between them.

The slopes of the mountain were lit by lanterns, and Liv was amazed at just how extensive the manor was. Rather than going up, like the castles and townhouses of Lucania, Keri’s home spread outward, in a series of halls and buildings connected by pathways kept clear of the snow. Above the buildings, evergreen trees dusted by snow stretched up toward the twilight.

Liv narrowed her eyes. She thought she saw - “Is that steam from the hot springs over there?” she asked, recalling the glimpse she'd had of Mountain Home years before.

Keri laughed. “It is. Do you have them at Whitehill?”

”Beneath the castle,” Liv answered. “Oh gods, I can’t wait. I haven’t had a real soak in over a year.”

”Come along, then,” Keri said, stepping off the waystone. “Let me welcome you to my home.”

Liv led Steria by the reins, and found Rosamund walking beside her as they followed the path up from the waystone to the manor. Below them, she could see houses and streets on the lower slopes, and a wall around the entire settlement.

Arrival by waystone was not subtle, and House Baelris clearly kept a watch on arrivals. Elden warriors in beautiful steel armor hailed Keri by name, and Liv could imagine that if they had not arrived with him, the reception might well have been very different. As it was, they were all treated like honored guests.

”May I stable your horse?” one of the guards asked, approaching Liv and inclining his head.

”Thank you,” Liv said. She gave the mare a scratch behind her ears, and handed the reins over. “Her name is Steria.”

”A beautiful name,” the warrior said, then led the horse away to wherever the stables might be.

Liv guessed that the guards watching the waystone must have sent word up to the house as soon as the incoming party was spotted, for a group of Eld who were, with a single exception, unfamiliar to her descended the path.

There were two elders, a man and a woman who not only bore a resemblance to each other, but to Keri as well. With them came both a young man and a young woman who shared Keri’s sun-kissed hair and skin, several shades more tan than that of Liv and her relatives, but not so dark as those of House Keria. In the arms of the young woman was a small boy, and he was the single member of the group whose face Liv recognized.

The child’s hair was a shade of blond so yellow and bright that it resembled nothing so much as a freshly cooked kernel of sweet corn. His eyes were the deep blue of a cloudless summer sky, and if he had been human, Liv would have put his age at perhaps six or seven years. Upon seeing Keri, he immediately began to kick and squirm until the young woman holding him was forced to set him down.

”Daddy!” the boy squealed, and tore off down the path toward Liv and her companions without the slightest care for the likelihood of treacherous ice on the stones.

Seven years before, Liv had gone to the edge of the shoal surrounding Bald Peak with her father. After they’d finished hunting a mana beast to get her bones for a wand — the same wand she now wore at her hip — he had guided her in a vision there at the edge of the rift. In that vision, Liv had seen Ractia for the first time.

Now, she felt a curious, disorienting sensation: as if she had stood here, on this very path, once before, and watched Keri scoop up his son. The boy’s wide smile and laughter were pure, innocent joy, and Liv couldn’t help but smile as well.

Keri swung his son around three times, hugging the boy to his chest, and whispering in his ear.

That, Liv thought to herself. That is what I want for my children. A father who loves them.

The thought was immediately followed by a rush of guilt — because Liv wasn’t at all certain how Rosamund could fit into such a dream.

”Rika!” Keri swung his son onto his hip, easily supporting the boy with one arm, and spun his spear about. He thrust it, blade down, into the snow-covered earth to the right of the path, and then extended his empty hand. He was, Liv saw, inviting the mother of his child into his embrace.

The young woman, however, had not stepped forward — nor had her eyes lit at the sight of her husband, or even her lips curled in a smile. Indeed, Liv saw, her eyes drawn as sharply as an arrow loosed from a crossbow, that the woman’s hand rested on the forearm of the armored warrior standing beside her.

That man’s eyes held no joy, either, but he carried himself with a grim determination that might have seen a criminal to the gallows.

Liv looked back to Keri, and her heart broke to watch the emotions play across his face. Relief and happiness, at being reunited with his family, was first replaced by confusion, then a mixture of shock and disbelief. Before he could speak, however, his kwenim broke the silence.

”Who is that?” Rika demanded, pointing a finger at Liv.