A grueling journey behind them, an exhausted Dante, a sturdy Scarlet, and a still-gravely-injured Bronwen arrived back at Deianira. Progress had been slow, it took them twice as long to get back than their initial travels had taken them.

Dante’s head spun after he had used so much of his energy to heal his mentor. He would have asked to lean on Scarlet during the first leg of their journey, had she not needed to support Bronwen. His lightheadedness didn’t leave him, even after they slept, but he was functional enough.

Bronwen, on the other hand, faded with each step. Dante offered to heal him more, but Bronwen refused, saying he was well enough to get back to Deianira.

Dante was sure the whole way back that mage hunters or Calder or Riordan himself would appear behind them. What had Scarlet been thinking, goading Calder to try to kill her? Scarlet said little on the way back, returning to her brooding ways.

It was night now, as they returned to Deianira, the twin moons shining above them. They paddled across the river, and found Death waiting for them at the opposite pier. She took account of Bronwen’s condition solemnly.

“He was the only one left?” she asked.

Scarlet nodded. “We ran into Calder. He said Riordan saved your favorites for you, as a gift.”

Death snarled at that. Then, together, they took Bronwen up to his quarters. His rooms seemed so luxurious, especially now, after the difficult days on the road. They helped him get settled in his bed.

“Let me finish healing you now,” Dante insisted. He couldn’t stand Bronwen being in this much pain for any longer.

“I think it’s over, Dante. I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about? I can heal you. You’re going to be fine.”

Bronwen shook his head. “I feel it. Infection. Internal damage. It’s too much. You’re a good healer Dante, but your energy reserves aren’t large enough to take this on. You’ll go down with me if you try.”

Scarlet turned to Death. “You saved me. Can’t you save him?”

Death shook her head. “Keeping you alive took some complicated magic on my part as well as Bronwen’s aid. While I can give him energy through our bond, I’m not a proper healer. I can sustain him for a time, but not long enough for his critical wounds to heal. If we had a team of healers, or someone as talented as Bronwen himself is at healing… there would be a chance. But a single, apprentice healer, and with my powers drained… no, it won’t be enough.”

“So Bronwen is right?” Dante whispered. “There’s nothing we can do?”

Death took a moment to consider. “You are not a powerful mage, Dante. I am sure you know this. You are satisfactory, competent in some areas, but you lack the capacity to draw energy from deep within yourself. You cannot heal Bronwen from this brink alone. But, if you could draw energy from another source, well—that could change everything.”

“What do you mean?” Dante asked.

Scarlet gazed flatly at Death. “She wants you to become an emissary.”

“Yes. If you bond with me, you can draw on my power, and you can use it to save Bronwen. I don’t have much energy left, but what I do is better utilized by you rather than me, in this instance.”

“You can’t do it,” Scarlet said.

Death glared at her. “Are you really arguing against him saving Bronwen?”

“No,” said Scarlet. “I’m arguing against Dante committing his life to you.”

“It’s not your decision. Dante?”

Dante’s emotions were tied into a knot he wasn’t sure how to even begin untangling. “Do I have time to think about it?”

“One more healing session,” Bronwen said, “and Death holding onto my soul... I believe I can last the night.”

“Bronwen, I want to save you, I just…”

“Take the time. I understand.”

Scarlet and Death left so that Dante could focus on healing. During the session, Dante paid close attention to the infections and internal damage that reigned within Bronwen’s body, and he gave in to the fact that his healing wouldn’t be able to outpace it. Death was right; he would need help if he was going to save his mentor.

After the healing, Dante retreated to his room. Before he went in, he knocked on Scarlet’s door, but she didn’t answer. Dante sighed. Some advice would be useful, but at the same time, Death was right. This was his decision. Maybe it was better he made it on his own.

The moment he laid down in his bed, he knew he wouldn’t fall asleep, not even a little. It was like the sleepless days when he was pushing back his dream of Jayden. This restlessness had a different flavor to it. It was rare that he wanted to escape from his waking mind more than his sleeping one. The churning of his thoughts made him queasy.

Dante wondered what his life would look like as an emissary. If it weren’t for the threat of Riordan, living in the Crossworld wouldn’t be so bad. But after seeing Riordan in his vision, and Calder twice in the flesh, the danger this god and his minions posed was no theory.

At some point, he had to find out what happened to Jayden and the rest of Briarglen. The necessity of helping Bronwen had overrode the potential of Scarlet opening a portal for him. There was a chance they could carry out that plan later, but if he were to become an emissary, he wouldn’t necessarily have the opportunity to sneak away.

Being here temporarily was one thing. But permanently? Was that what he wanted his life to be?

And yet, how could he leave? Scarlet would be alone again. While their friendship had been slow to start, it was unbearable to think about abandoning her now. Maybe he should have held less affection for her, with how sharp she could still be sometimes. But there was a softness to her too, when she was able to let down her defenses for a moment.

He’d never had a friend like her before. Back in Briarglen, he had friends, sure—it still hurt to think of his best friend, Milo, tattling on him for using magic. Since he’d come to the Crossworld, he hasn’t had to hide that part of himself. Nor had he had to fight to justify his interest in healing and herbalism over skills that he had no talent or interest in.

Adjusting to being a mage was a challenge. But for the first time in his life he felt like he didn’t have to hide who he was. And while he and Scarlet struggled with different aspects of their training and isolation in Deianira, he also felt like he had someone who was in this with him. Scarlet had his back. She worked on their friendship even though it was difficult for her. She saved him from the mage hunters in Riordan’s realm. She was there for him after waking from his worst vision. She was the only one who he’d even told about his visions.

And then, of course, there was Bronwen. A man who had mentored Dante and accepted him more than his own parents ever had. His old master, Ferrick, had supported Dante as well, but more for his own benefit than anything else. Dante could tell that Bronwen cared about him beyond his usefulness.

Dante’s parents, Ferrick, Milo… they all could have died in that awful blaze he’d seen in his vision. His parting with his father was awful, and he hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to his mother or anyone else other than Jayden. He never would now. Riordan had convinced his parents that magic was wrong for mortals to have, and their whole relationship had been ruined because of that.

He couldn’t save anyone from Briarglen, but he had the choice to save Bronwen. To have a shot at fighting Riordan and freeing his homeland from his rule. Or he could flee from the dangers of living in the crossfire between gods, and have his freedom and perhaps save the last of his family.

Dante was so wrapped up in his cascade of thoughts that when he ran out of words for a moment, he realized his face was wet with tears. He wiped the dampness away and tried to steady his breathing.

His door creaked open a crack. An orb of blue light illuminated a block of his room. “Dante? Can I come in?”

Dante’s chest felt so heavy that he couldn’t force a response out. Scarlet creeped a bit farther into his room regardless. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to be there or not.

“I know you’re awake,” she said. The light she was gently carrying shone on him softly as she approached. “I mean. I felt like it was a pretty good guess, anyway.” She sat down on the edge of his bed, where she had perched when she guarded him during his blindness. “I can’t sleep either. I just… keep thinking. I’m worried.” She cleared her throat. “About you. It’s a big decision, an important one. There’s just… a lot. There’s a lot.” Her dark curls guarded her face from him. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

Dante sat up a little and took her hand. Though her hand was about the same size as his, it felt small. Too small to contain her fire and passion. “It’s okay.”

“Okay enough.”

“You’re more than okay.”

Scarlet looked up, not at him, but across the room. Her hair fell away from her face, softly illuminated by her light. “I don’t think you should do it. Don’t become an emissary.”

“Scarlet—”

“You saw. You saw their bodies out there.”

“Bronwen will die if I don’t.”

“You can save him on your own. Don’t sell your soul to Death.”

“Bronwen and Death both think I can’t. And if they’re right…” Dante choked back the rest of the sentence. He rolled away from Scarlet. Tears were stinging his eyes again.

He never wanted to be a mage. He never wanted to be a part of all this. Now his magic might not even be enough to save Bronwen. He would never be able to forgive himself if he couldn’t do it.

Scarlet put a hand on Dante’s shoulder. He jumped a little, surprised at the touch. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Should I go?”

His heart dropped at the thought of her leaving. “No,” he said. “Stay.”

They remained like that for a while, Scarlet resting her hand on Dante as he lay in his bed facing away. Soothing warmth radiated from her.

Eventually, Scarlet said, “You should sleep.”

He snorted. “I wish I could.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m afraid.”

Scarlet ran her hand down his arm. Her touch was gentle. “What are you most afraid of?”

“When I have visions, I’m usually just watching a scene play out. I can’t do anything, I’m helpless. I see horrible things happening, and I can’t stop it. Then I wake up blind. I can’t even bring myself back into a reality that feels safe when it’s over. And now,” Dante sighed. “Now, with Bronwen… I have to save him. It’s not even a choice.”

“You do have a choice. I told you, I think you can save him without becoming an emissary.”

“You’re the only one that believes that.”

“They’re wrong. I’m right.”

“I don’t know if I can take that chance.”

“Well… sleep on it.”

“I’m not going to sleep. The last thing I want to do tonight is dream.”

Scarlet stood up. Without her touch, he was suddenly cold.

“If you’re going to heal Bronwen, you need all of the energy you can get. You have to try.”

“I can’t handle dreaming tonight. Not alone.”

Scarlet slowly sat back down. Dante’s face burned as they made eye contact for a brief moment. He saw her eyes flicker between sharp and gentle.

“Then I’ll stay.” She pulled her legs onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard.

“You can sleep too.”

“I can’t guard you from dreams if I’m asleep. And I’m not the one who has to heal Bronwen.” Scarlet snuffed out her light orb, leaving them in the dark. “You rest, I’ll be here.”

Dante wasn’t sure what he’d be expecting, but it hadn’t been for her to actually stay. He didn’t want to be alone, but would he rest better or worse with her sitting beside him as he tried to sleep? He was lying face up next to her, so close they almost touched. It was the wrong time to admit to himself how much he liked being close to her.

Dante could hear the pounding of his own heart. Fearing that Scarlet could hear it too, he forced steady breaths to calm his nerves. He couldn’t process anything, his brain full of twisting thoughts. Bronwen dying, unless he could save him. Riordan using them as game pieces in his conquest. Death wanting to bind him to her service. Jayden, captured, fate unknown. Scarlet sitting next to him.

She murmured something, but Dante couldn’t hear her over the chaos of his mind.

“What was that?”

“Nevermind.”

“Say it again. Please.”

He looked up at her, barely able to make her out against the darkness. She stared across at the wall, unblinking. He closed his eyes again, resigning himself to her silence. Just as he did, she said, “You aren’t helpless. You can save Bronwen. And we’re going to stop Riordan.”

“He’s a god, Scarlet.”

“I don’t care. I’m done letting that stop me from trying. I’ve trained, and I’ll keep training. I’ll—we’ll do this.” Her words were instilled with confidence. Dante wondered if she truly felt the conviction she conveyed.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked.

“No.”

That couldn’t be true. He’d seen her shaking when they had found Calder and Bronwen. “Not of anything?”

“I don’t want to answer that.”

“You can open up to me, you know.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

She paused. “My dad left me behind. Then my mom did. They’re all I had.”

“So you’re afraid of trusting people? Because they’ll leave?”

“Dante,” she said, although the way she said his name made it sound more like shut up.

“It’s alright to be scared.”

“Not now. I can’t be distracted by fears, by feelings. They’re useless to me.”

Scarlet’s cold words left Dante’s chest hollow. How could she be so distant, cut out all of her emotions like that? Maybe he’d been wrong about how he felt about her. Regardless, the emptiness he was left with soothed him to sleep better than the racing thoughts of anxiety that had been eating him, and in the following silence, he drifted into sleep.

#

He was standing on the outside of a cell. The air was moist and heavy. Water dripped somewhere down the dark hall. In front of him, metal bars separated him from a girl. Her chamber was small, and she had compacted herself into the corner, knees pulled up tight into her chest.

She looked up at him. The first thing he noticed, even in the dim light, was her eyes: one blue, one brown. Dante noticed her hair next. Blonde, sheared to a chin-length. She looked young, maybe twelve. He couldn’t help but be reminded of his sister. Jayden had been that small and innocent only a couple of years ago.

This girl shouldn’t be in a cell.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The girl blinked, then her eyes focused in on him. “I’m Ange.” Her voice was too light and pretty for this place. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He wondered where here was, exactly. Dante felt off-balance, stuck between the unreality of a dream and the hyperreality of his visions. His mind did flip-flops like he was about to tumble out of this dream. He had to find out what he could while he was here. “Why are you locked up?”

“Eva put me here,” the girl said. “You might know her better as Death. That’s what she goes by now, isn’t it?”

“You’re just a child. Why would she put you in here?”

“It wasn’t fair. Please, I can’t keep you here long, but I can explain more if you come in person.”

“You’re in Deianira?”

“Yes. I need your help. Please come.”

The ground was ripped away from under Dante’s feet, vertigo taking over as he fell.

#

Dante’s eyes shot open. It was dark. His sight hadn’t been stolen.

Also to his surprise, Scarlet was still there, and not just next to him—at some point, she had rolled over and wrapped her arms around him. Her breathing was steady; he wondered if she was awake. Maybe she had drifted off and ended up wrapping herself around him by accident.

“Scarlet?” he whispered.

“Did you have a vision?” she mumbled, half-awake.

“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“But it’s okay?” she asked. “Is… this okay?”

“It’s okay.”

“Sleep, then.” She let out something that was between a sigh and a yawn as she pulled him just a little closer.

She was so cold sometimes. Prickly, harsh, distant. But then there was this: her being soft, her holding him, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, her hair tickling his cheek, the rise and fall of her breathing taking him to a place of calm.

She was a girl of fire, and she made his heart burn.

Part of him wanted to kiss her, but he knew he couldn’t. She was so close, so warm—this moment was too perfect. If he moved even an inch he risked breaking it. He couldn’t do anything to scare her away, to break the magic of Scarlet’s vulnerability. He tried not to even breathe too deep, lest his movement shake her out of her tenderness.

He didn’t want to sleep away the moments of closeness with her, but eventually, he did. He had to. There was too much to do.