The first order of business was to get as far away from here as we possibly could. It was impossible to know how badly we'd been hurt by Iola's final spell, but none of us were vomiting up blood, so it could've been worse. And so the four of us retreated until the frozen battlefield faded into the snow. I had the presence of mind to channel disgust into a repulsion spell, scoring the earth with a wide X to warn future travelers away from the tainted land.

Even in death, Iola did nothing but radiate toxicity.

Lucet stumbled as Iola's corpse faded into the distance, peeling off her frozen gloves, and I hesitantly stepped next to her. She slumped into me, shivering, and I helped support her weight as we staggered away. Her fingers found mine, and though they were stiff and frostbitten, she still managed to give my hand a weak squeeze.

Wordlessly, Meloai creaked over towards us, and I held out my other arm. She was heavy, all metal and clockwork that had seized up in the cold of Lucet's grand spell, but the connection between her body and soul would knit her back together in time. Together now, the three of us supported each other as we bore onwards through the cold. I turned to Sansen, expecting to offer the old man a shoulder, but stopped as something caught my eye in the storm.

A soul.

His soul.

Sansen must have seen it too—it was blindingly obvious if you knew where to look. Because the soul was a candle against the dark, a beacon of fire in an empty night.

Sansen broke out into a dead sprint, nearly slipping and bashing his head in, and Lucet reached out to catch him before his journey could come to a premature end. He gave her a thankful look, nodded, and settled down beside us, making the final leg of our journey together.

The storm's teeth had tried to bury Jiaola whole, but the stubborn old man had resisted the fury of the entire Silent Peaks before. He wouldn't let something as mundane as an extradimensional winter take his life. A memory of the house he'd built with Sansen shone around him in my soulsight, air that had been hardened into a substance stronger than steel.

And in the middle of that house of soul and memory, Jiaola sat cross-legged, chewing on a brick of bread and smiling his knowing smile.

"Why don't you come in?" he said. "It's terrible out there."

Sansen couldn't restrain himself any longer. With a cry of ragged joy, he surged forwards, and Jiaola stood in response, holding his arms wide, tears shimmering in his eyes as he dismissed a section of his spell to let his husband in. Sansen crashed into him hard enough to send the two of them spinning around, simply delighting in being with each other for the first time in months.

Then Jiaola looked up at the three of us, huddled in the storm, and beckoned. "Come in," he said. "Door's always open to family."

I swallowed, something tight and warm in my throat, and managed to croak, "Thanks." The three of us collapsed as soon as we got inside the shelter of magic that Jiaola had woven, the floor of solid air strange beneath my feet.

Sansen finally pulled back from his husband and whispered, "I missed you so much."

"I never gave up hope," he whispered back, kissing him on the forehead. Embarrassed, I looked away. "I don't have much, but there's bread and water to spare. Are you all okay?"

And in the silence that followed, I felt Jiaola's soul flicker in uncertainty.

"Iola... he cast a spell on us," I finally said. "Some variant of the light magic he uses to kill people. We had shields up—darkness spells—but... well. If we all start sprouting tumors and losing hair in a week, we'll know who to blame."

"We—we're not going to die. Right?" Lucet asked. "I mean—with the secrets of attunement on our side—"

"All the knowledge of magic in the world won't save us if we die of cancer before we use it," I said. "Besides, what good does that even do us? Cancer's a thing of biology, not magic. By all the rules of magic, cancer's just an unusual arrangement of flesh in realspace. It might as well not exist."

"Magic's not the only thing that can help you," Jiaola said firmly. "There are doctors—good doctors—who I'm sure can undo any damage that Iola did to you."

"Right, because five broke spellcasters can afford that kind of medical care," I said. "What, are we going to go begging for Odin to save us again? I don't have any more secrets to sell. Or are we going back to the Peaks? Trade one Iola for a hell-mountain full of them?"

"We'll find allies." Jiaola's gaze grew distant. "Trust me. Not everywhere is like the Silent Peaks. Politics and money aside, cancers are everyone's enemy. There are healers who won't turn us aside if we're battling that particular oblivion."

I let out a tense, quiet breath. "I missed you, Jiaola."

He smiled. "I missed you too, kid. There's a lot of that going around." He paused to think. "Now that I think about it... there's a place I know that was good with healers. Good in general, aside from... some bad memories."

"We don't have to go if—" Sansen began, but Jiaola was already shaking his head.

"It was a lifetime ago. Besides, you're on a deadline, if Iola really got you with that spell of his. You need the kind of care that only they can provide." Jiaola stood up, packing away his bread into a knapsack. "So unless any of you have a better idea, we're headed to the Crystal Coast."

I got to my feet, struggling a little, and a chill went down my spine. Were those aches and pains from the long walk here, or were they the first sign of something worse? Was that numbness in my fingers from the winter cold, or were my nerves being slowly killed by a sickness that would turn my body against itself? As I looked around the room, I could tell that the same fears were quietly gnawing away at Sansen and Lucet.

Then Jiaola broke the silence with a polite cough. "Now, I don't suppose any of you know which way is north? I seem to have gotten turned around in this storm."

And I let out a rueful laugh. Times may have been tough, but we'd suffered worse.

We'd get through this, like we always had.

Together.