Zydnus died. Guinevere sacrificed herself. Astera gave ger Essence away. Pyraz left. Now, after three years together, Rook was gone, too, and Aletheia was left only with Eris.

Everyone she ever cared about died or left her or worse. Everyone she knew abandoned her. For a year she had adventured behind Astera, anxious and self-conscious but content to be free from her studies in Chionos. Then she had been betrayed, and while she still loved Astera, she would never be able to see the world the same way again. Life became meaningless. She did not understand her purpose. She lived like a shadow across the ground, powerless and cast by something greater than herself; she could affect nothing. She had no purpose. She did not know what she wanted, if she even wanted anything. All she knew was that she couldn’t sleep unless she slept near Rook. All she knew was that he was the only thing she had left in this world.

Now he was gone. Dead. He died saving so many others, like he’d risked himself to save her. Aletheia didn’t know what he ever saw in her. Why he wasted his time with a sad, lonely, despairing little girl, while he had distractions like Eris to sleep with and duchies to run. But he had. All the way until the end. He had always been there. He became everything she thought Astera was, and he was it truthfully. He wasn’t pretending. He was her hero.

She wished he had stayed at the keep. She knew it was selfish, but the lives of so many faceless people weren’t worth Rook to her. Aletheia—she would have sacrificed herself. She would have risked herself for them. They were worth her life. But they weren’t worth Rook’s. He had too much to live for. He had…

And he was dead. Yet for the first time since she woke up in his arms in Arqa, and perhaps the first time since she ran away from Antigone, Aletheia did not revel in sorrow. She was not depressed over the existential meaninglessness of her existence. She grieved deeply, and she would always miss Rook, and she cried often when she thought to move into his arms at night and then remembered he was no longer there and never would be again, but this time she did not despair.

She did not despair, because now she had hope. The past became more horrifying by the day, yet for the first time she felt as though she had a future worth living for. She felt as though she had purpose—that being brought back wasn’t for nothing after all. She felt empowered to make it to tomorrow.

Eris had given that to her. Eris, and Rook together. Their son was hope. Their son was a purpose. Their son was what she desperately needed in her life, and she couldn’t wait to be his aunt.

And it was more purpose than just that. For the first time, Aletheia was also needed. Eris needed her to make this journey. She needed her to help grieve. She needed her to escape the knights of Korakos and the Archon and, when the sun set, to talk to, because now neither of them had Rook to confide in, and even the antisocial Eris needed a friend.

For three years Aletheia had been the party’s fifth wheel. She was the follower. The torchbearer. The little kid. But not anymore. Now she was a real member, and she finally felt like her existence mattered.

She just wished it hadn’t come at such a high price.

The bump was small but very cute. She knew Eris didn’t like it, didn’t like to have it noticed, so she was careful with her glances—but she stole them nevertheless.

Aletheia and Rook hadn’t been technically related. But they were very close, and he truly had felt like her brother. That meant his son truly felt like her nephew. Even in the midst of such death and fear and sorrow and uncertainty, seeing that cute bump made her heart smile with excitement. Rook’s son. The son he always wanted—and with the woman he always wanted it with.

Eris said he would be Aletheia’ to take and raise. After he was born, she wanted nothing to do with him. Aletheia found that hard to believe. Eris was…difficult, but she had truly loved Rook. How could she abandon her own child like that? How could anyone?

But some women did, and over the days and weeks since she made that comment, she maintained her stance. That turned Aletheia from aunt into mother. She did not know how she could ever be ready for that. She was only fifteen, or maybe fourteen. She had never even held an infant. She wasn’t qualified.

…but then Eris was only nineteen. Would five years really make that much of a difference? Was Eris qualified? She looked more maternal, but emotionally—Aletheia would be a better mother. Eris was right. It was better for everyone if she wasn’t involved. And Aletheia was excited to do it, happy to do it, eager to do it. She was just terrified at the same time.

“You are staring at me again,” Eris said. They were walking side-by-side. Robur was ahead of them, stumbling through briars, and to their left was a stretch of the Oldwalls subsumed by foliage.

Aletheia always used to be awed when she saw them. Now they were practically mundane.

She glanced away. “No I wasn’t,” she said.

“You were. You were gazing upon me like a child at a freak circus.”

She laughed at the imagery. “Nobody but you thinks of you that way. I was—never mind.”

“What? Gawking? Bemusing? Do not tell me you were leering?”

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Aletheia said. “I can walk with Robur.”

Eris frowned. She thought hard about something. However neurotic Aletheia knew she was, she also knew she did not come anywhere near Eris’ level. “No. You—I asked you a question, did I not?”

“If you really want to know…I was just thinking how beautiful you still are.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“You’ve been so self-conscious, but—you look amazing.”

“I hope this is not some trap of flattery designed to catch me off-guard.”

“I’m not smart enough to trap you,” Aletheia said.

“Yes, I—” She stopped. Glaring down. Aletheia smiled back. “I see. Very clever. Have you always been this way?”

“Yes.”

“Somehow I did not notice. ‘Tis most irritating.”

“Probably because you never talked to me.”

“That is because I was an adventurer, not a babysitter,” she said.

“Look where that you got you,” Aletheia said.

Aletheia never liked Eris. She found her petty, vain, and mean, and she was envious of her beauty. But since their reunion and journeys in Telmos, she had been part of the team. She was a friend, like it or not, and she was determined to be amiable. It was what Eris needed as much as Aletheia—even if it wouldn’t last past the start of the next year.

“Lamentable though my situation may be, at least I have never died,” Eris said. “A good reason to avoid mixing children and adventure.”

The words were more painful than Aletheia’s leg which, despite having healed over much since yesterday, still hurt worse than any wound she’d ever had. She felt her features go cold for a moment. But her determination didn’t wane. Eris couldn’t help herself; there was no point holding it against her. “Maybe Jason and Astera had the right idea. Maybe keeping kids around as vampire bait is a good idea for making quick getaways.”

They stopped to rest for a moment beneath the shade of a tree beginning to lose its leaves. Eris frowned. “You are disturbingly chipper. Should you not be crying alone somewhere?”

Shit bit her lip. She was in control of herself now, but in the depths of the lonely night it was inevitable that she would do just as Eris said. A core of grief still lurked in her chest. But she smiled. “I never cry anymore. You’re the one who cries.”

Eris had been crying, too, and Aletheia knew she hated to admit it, because her cheeks flushed. “I do not cry.”

“Yes you do.”

“I do not cry! I have never—” She clenched her jaw and turned away. “Leave me be. Please. I tire of you.”

But she didn’t mean it. If she meant it she would be demanding it, not whispering. So Aletheia stepped nearer. “I’m just kidding,” she said. “I know I cry. I can’t help it. But we’re girls, so it’s okay, right?”

“Are you a girl? You look skinny as a boy to me.”

Her remark brought only sadness. Aletheia sank and retreated an inch away, folding her arms. “You always say that.”

“There may be a reason why.”

There was, but she took a deep breath of the cool autumn air anyway. “Am I really that ugly?”

Eris sighed. “No.”

For some reason, of all the remarks, that was the one that hurt Aletheia the most. She didn’t understand why. She knew she wasn’t beautiful. Yet she was also vain. She loved nice things. Unlike Eris she would have given anything to live her life as a glamorous duchess, steeped in luxury and finery.

“Why do you—put me down like that? No one is like you, I know that, but…what do you gain by saying those things?”

She waited before responding. A deep frown.

“I do not know,” she admitted. “I cannot help myself. I…know no other way to be. But do not blame me for it; ‘tis you and Robur who insist on accompanying me wherever I go. I have told you to leave me again and again. Any abuse you suffer is at your own invitation.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if we left?”

“I did not say that,” she added quickly. “Only that—I do not know. I…we are not friends. Why are we discussing this?”

“I want to be friends.”

“Why do you want to be friends with a woman you regard as a bitch? Is this the same reason why you still say you love the elf who murdered you?”

Aletheia shrugged. “Astera didn’t murder me. And it’s because…we don’t have anyone else. Because Rook loved you, and I loved him. Because you need me to help with the baby. And we’re stuck together.”

“We may be stuck together without this endless talking.”

“And—even though you’re prettier than me, I don’t know we’re that different.”

Eris had been drinking from her waterskin, but at this comment she stopped. Her eyes narrowed. She glared down at Aletheia. “We are very different.”

“We both ran away from the Tower.”

“I did so alone.”

“We’re both magicians.”

“I am a far better magician than you.”

“We both have golden eyes.”

“Yet you were seared gold, while I was seared green.”

“We’re both adventurers.”

“I have adventured far more successfully than you.”

“We’re both sarcastic.”

“And there it is! I take it back; you are very observant after all!”

“…and we’re both young women who loved Rook.”

Eris stopped. She growled. “Then he should have impregnated you in my place.”

Aletheia’s thoughts on that matter were unthinkable. She could never repeat them to anyone, except to say that she would take no shame in claiming, one day, that Eris’ son was hers by blood. She would have taken that sacrifice for Eris if she could have, if she were older, if…things were different. But that went back to her longtime wish—her wish that she herself was Eris, because she could do so much more with her life than Eris did.

“There are my reasons,” Aletheia said. “Ok?”

“So be it. Let us be friends.” She raised her voice to a mocking tone. “We may frolic together through the fields before us. And sing songs in harmony—I alto, you soprano! Perhaps we may even do each other’s hair!”

Aletheia raised her voice in excitement. “Really?”

“No.”

“Is that what you think friends do together?”

Eris frowned suddenly. “I—have never been ‘friends’ with a woman before. I do not know. Nor am I interested, before you receive any rogue notions.”

Aletheia smiled. “Well—there’s one thing. And if we did it…I would stop annoying you.”

They continued down the path after Robur. Eris rubbed her eyes. “Do I dare ask?”

“Friends ask each other whatever’s on their minds. Friends don’t keep secrets.”

“And what friends have you had, pray tell? I am the closest thing to a girl your age you have ever known.”

Aletheia was poised to respond, but she realized Eris was right. “I had Pyraz…and Astera…and Rook…and there was Diana! She was my friend!”

“Do not remind me of her.”

“She was nice. I hope she’s okay. But I talked to her about—a lot of stuff.” She sighed. “But you’re right. I’ve never been friends with a girl my age. So we can learn together, right?”

After so long, it was bizarre to talk to Eris this way. Aletheia was trying very hard to be nice. With Jason and the others she couldn’t hold her tongue, but for some reason, without Rook there, her instinct to strike back at every stray remark was tempered. Maybe it was the baby. But it felt good. She felt like she was herself. And she wasn’t sad, she didn’t feel out of place; she was certain she stood right where she needed to be.

Sadness would come later. Guilt for surviving while her friends died. But not now.

The sigh that left Eris’ mouth could have put out a bonfire. She wobbled on her feet somewhat, putting a hand to her chest like she came suddenly out of breath. Then she said, “You mentioned a price to ‘stop annoying me?’ The prospect is beginning to seem more appealing.”

Aletheia let the question sizzle a moment, then said, “I’ll stop annoying you…if you let me feel your belly.”

She lurched away. They came to a stop once again. “No.”

“Please?”

“I will kill you if you try.”

“Pleeeaaase?”

She raised her staff. “Touch me and ‘twill be your death. I am not joking.”

“Eris! Please! You get to be with him every day, all the time—I’m going to raise him, and I—I just want to prepare. And it’s what normal women do.”

“We have established I am not normal. I am insane, a psychopath, a bitch, et cetera; step not an inch closer.”

“Can’t you try? Just for today?”

A long moment of hesitation. That was good, Aletheia thought. It meant Eris was considering it, and consideration might beget a change in opinion. But eventually she shook her head. “The only thing worse than being without Rook’s touch would be to replace it with yours. This conversation is over. Do not dare attempt to lay your hands on me, Aletheia.”

That was a serious threat. She sank again. “Okay,” she said.

She didn’t have the willpower to keep up the conversation after that.

They bypassed the Chasm of Koilados. It never quite came in view. Aletheia found herself disappointed to miss such a great landmark, but she told herself she would return someday and view it in person. Then they continued on. A week passed. Aletheia’s wounds finally closed. Her feet ached.

She tried to build a rapport with Robur. She didn’t know him at all. She asked him about his time traveling with Eris, and in turn told him about their adventures while he was away.

“She has never told the stories?” he asked. “Of the Magister’s Vault, and the Archon’s Tower, and the owlbear and Arktids?”

Aletheia shook her head. “Not to me. But we don’t get along very well.”

“I see.”

He said nothing else, and would have said nothing else for an eternity. “So…” Aletheia said. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen. I believe it was just my birthday this week.”

“Really? Why didn’t you tell us?”

He looked at her with a blank expression. “I didn’t think to.”

“We could’ve bought you a cake! Or…made one.”

“That would have been impractical with our funds so low. I do not want to be a burden.”

She smiled. “Why are you friends with Eris? You’re—her complete opposite.”

“I believe she has a better future in store than the state in which we found each other,” he said. “Perhaps we are near the cusp of her finding it.”

“I hope so,” Aletheia said. “But…do you like her?”

“Like?”

“Yeah. You’ve followed her around for so long just to make sure she gets to a better place, but do you even like her?”

He stared at her. Then he simply replied, “No.”

She burst into laughter. “No?”

“She is rather abusive.”

“I think Rook found it endearing. He thought she didn’t really mean it. Or maybe he liked it, I don’t know.”

“…I am not so certain she doesn’t mean it. To be more thorough, I am not certain—‘like’ is the correct question. If I liked her I would hope I found it less satisfying to see her in pain.”

Aletheia laughed again. “Pain?”

“In particular with her pregnancy, she is—emotionally compromised. I find it amusing.”

“Try talking to her,” she muttered.

“But,” he quickly added, “I do not want to see her in danger.”

“…so do you do like her or not?”

He shrugged. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

He was a very strange man. Almost incomprehensible. Eris wasn’t so confusing; she was petty, nasty, vain, mean, sadistic, lustful, ambitious, impulsive, curious, selfish, and temperamental. Aletheia understood her easily. But Robur—she didn’t even know where to start. After a moment of silence, he was the one to follow with a question:

“May I ask how old you are?”

Aletheia stared at him with wide eyes. That was the one thing she was not prepared to answer. “I was born fifteen years ago,” she said, like she were guilty of a crime.

“But you were…not awake for a year,” he said.

“For almost a year,” she said. “I don’t know…if I aged or not. But I don’t remember anything. It was like I was asleep. I don’t think I aged, I woke up the same as how I died. I hope I didn’t age because I need that extra year to grow boobs.” She tried to be jocular, but she wasn’t joking, and the topic was serious. “Anyway…I never know what to say anymore. I was born fifteen years ago, but…I think I’m fourteen.”

Robur considered this. “You could simply say you were born fourteen years ago.”

“Is that allowed?”

“I do not believe anyone would know.”

Aletheia licked the back of her teeth. Somehow this seemed like cheating, yet he had a point. “I would know.”

He shrugged again. That was the end of that conversation, and over the course of the week they had few others. Robur was not easy to talk to. He rarely had anything to say. But Aletheia liked him. He was nice, and honest, and good. He deserved better friends.

She decided the next day she was fourteen. The year of her birth was moved forward by one. Robur was right; no one but her would ever know.

Down from the hills of Koilados. They entered the grasslands, heading northeast toward the mountains that would take them through to Voreios. Another week. The going was slow; they kept off the highways and main roads. That doubled the time required. But there was no rush. They had only one time limit.

Their time limit was very self-conscious. She was obsessed with her stomach. One night, while Eris was on watch at their camp, Aletheia rose to refill her water at a nearby stream, and there she found their watchwoman in the moonlight. She stood with her back straight and a hand on her gut, watching her reflection, trying to suck the ever-more-pronounced bump in, and doing a poor job.

Her head raised. Her lungs filled. Her bump—moved slightly inward, but she was too thin, and her height was all in her legs. There was nowhere for it to go. She groaned and tried again.

Aletheia decided to ambush her. “I think you still look amazing,” she said.

Eris made no reaction whatsoever. Instead her eyes closed. She sighed. “Go to sleep,” she commanded.

“I’m not lying. Don’t you trust me?”

“I am not interested in what you find attractive.”

“Are you trying to attract men right now?” Eris fell silent. “Does it matter to anyone but us?”

“It matters to me.”

Aletheia approached. She had to play diplomat. She didn’t much know how, but she wanted to get it right. “You don’t look fat.”

“I know that,” Eris growled.

“I don’t know what you see when you look at yourself, but…when I used to look at you, I thought you were like an elf. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful. I wished I could look like you.”

“Most did,” she sighed.

“I thought you were the perfect woman. But…I still see that when I look at you. It’s just that you’re not the maiden anymore. You’re the beautiful mother. And I think that’s even more beautiful. You still look amazing, it’s just a different way.”

“I do not want to be the mother,” Eris said, “I want to be the maiden. The mother is not who I am. Do you not understand this by now?”

Aletheia took a seat by Eris’ feet. No sound passed over them by the running of the nearby stream and the crickets in the cool air. She considered her next avenue of attack with great care.

“Rook told me what he saw in my locket.”

“What?”

“When he wouldn’t tell you. He told me what he saw.” Eris went quiet—she wanted to hear this. “I know he didn’t want you to know because he was afraid of what you would think, but…” Aletheia shrugged. “Never mind.”

“What?” Eris said, shifting. “You cannot—I know this is a ploy. Tell me what you are thinking.”

“It was you. He saw a future where he had you, and you had a son and a daughter together.” Aletheia sighed to express all this; it was very challenging to articulate. “He knew you better than anyone else. He loved you. And he saw you as a mother.”

Another long silence. At last Eris took a seat next to Aletheia, and with her voice low she said, “I do not barge in while you are moping and interrupt your self-pity. Must you do the same to me?”

“I didn’t plan to, but you were by the water. Is it working?”

“Your voice is at least some respite from my own thoughts.”

That was an invitation to keep going. Aletheia had a few more ideas. “Okay. Well. The mother is who you are. It doesn’t matter what you want to be. I want to be tall, but I’m still short. You’re carrying Rook’s son. You’ve decided to keep him. So why are you still upset? Shouldn’t you be happy?”

Eris tugged at her own hair. For someone who had slain demons and killed dozens of men, it was jarring to see her so distraught over something that seemed so simple. If and when Aletheia had a child of her own, she would want everyone to know. It would be exciting. What was wrong with Eris?

A lot.

“A woman can hold two thoughts in her head at once,” she said. “I might be angry at Rook for deserting me with his child, yet happy some trace of him is left. I might be resigned to enduring pregnancy, yet upset that it will destroy my beauty.”

“It won’t destroy your beauty,” Aletheia said. “Look how big your chest has gotten.” They both laughed—and for some reason, making Eris laugh was like slaying the greatest demon on Earth. Then she continued, “Anyway, you said I was ugly because I was skinny like a boy. Nobody would ever mistake you for a boy, but especially not now. You’re doing the most feminine thing ever. You always loved girly things. Shouldn’t you enjoy this, too, while it lasts?”

“Do you enjoy being stricken with the flu?” she asked. “For that is how I have felt.”

Aletheia shrugged. She didn’t know what it was like. She could offer no wisdom there. Instead she said, “I’m just saying you aren’t ugly. Nobody thinks that. When women have babies—like Diana—they feel more powerful than ever, like they’re beautiful. That’s what she told me.”

Eris thought this over for a long time. Aletheia watched the moonlight on her features. She truly was elfin, and she knew it. It wasn’t fair. The silence broke when her lips finally moved:

“What is there to be ashamed of?” she mused distantly. “That I am a woman, and my body can create new life? Why should I be ashamed of that? Surely I should take pride in doing it better than other women?”

Everything was a competition for Eris, but if that was how she needed to frame it, Aletheia wouldn’t object.

“‘Tis the son of the man I loved. I wish it was not conceived, yet I am grateful it was all the same. And while it burdens me—it is the son of a duke, the heir of Korakos, and there is no reason to hide the fact that our union produced evidence. Indeed—such evidence is proof to other women that I laid with the handsome Strategos, that he gave me his child, while they are left barren.”

She put a hand on her belly.

“You are right,” she said. “Perhaps I am a mother after all.”

“…will you still give him to me?”

She glanced Aletheia’s way. “Yes,” she said, but her voice was uncertain. “I—‘tis better this way. For the both of us. For you, for me, and…for…’him.’ I will not be able to care for him.”

Aletheia nodded. They made small progress, taking small steps. She was ecstatic with what she got. She put a hand on Eris’ slender bicep. “Now can I feel him?”

A long, dissatisfied sigh was the only response. But then at length Eris said, “Fine. Just this once. You will likely feel him move. But while you do, you must marvel while you consider that Korax XXXII is the one who chose me to carry his heir.”

Aletheia smiled back at her. “Okay. I think I can pay that price.”