I hated picking up after my wife. She had always been the messier of the two of us, and it really showed in the way she left her assassinations.

Blood on the walls and rainy weather, those were her calling cards. Storms trailed behind her like the train of a dress. I could do nothing about the weather—I had never learned those magics like she had. I'd focused instead on the healing magics. And what a happy little coincidence that turned into.

May and I had met ten years ago at the University of Sciences and Magics on the island of Erya. She had a confidence, a violent assuredness of who she was, that hypnotized me. For whatever reason, the attraction was mutual, and we quickly became inseparable.

Now, a decade later, I stood at the mouth of a humid hallway. There were no windows here—the Re'zir royalty had built their palace underneath the ground. Shouts echoed down the hallway, servants and doctors scrambling to undo the damage caused by my wife.

I sighed and jogged off down the hallway. The braziers burned whelvvu oil, a nauseating incense that the people of this island, the Re'zir, were fond of. It made my eyes burn, and May knew that. Perhaps that was why she'd waited to kill the king and queen down here, instead of during the parade earlier today in the open streets. She could be quite petty sometimes.

As I moved down the corridor, desperate cries bounced off the cobblestone walls. Frantic shouts for help, words meant for nobody in particular. "The king and queen are dead!" someone cried.

I hastened my pace.

"She came like a vapor," a woman wept aloud. "She was impossible to touch…"

"We failed them…"

Re'zir people held their king and queen very highly, almost to the point of deifying them. As I ran, I found a corpse belonging to a palace guard. He hadn't been killed by May—this one had fallen on his sword in shame.

I leapt over a dozen corpses, regrettably unable to slow down and help them. The king and queen were more important, at least for now. Still, I noted the guards' corpses.

May was not a trained killer, but she had raw power and brutal determination. She was not precise—some of these people had lost their arms or legs, their entrails spilling out onto the floor. Bile, viscera, and brain matter pooled in the blood. None of them had met death without at least two or three separate wounds.

After another moment, I came to the end of the corridor and stepped into a large open room—the royal throne room. Usually there would have been guards barring my path, but they were dead at the threshold.

Inside were perhaps a dozen or so people, all kneeling or standing at the center with heads hung low.

"Move aside!" I called. "I'm a healer. I can bring them back." A few of them spun to look at me, but nobody took heed of my words. This was how it usually was. "Step aside," I repeated, pushing through the cluster of guards and attendants. "Don't worry, everything's going to be alright."

I knelt at the side of the king, his wife a few steps away. Both had been brutalized like their guards, and the odor of bile burned my throat.

"Don't touch them!" a woman gasped.

"Who are you?!" someone asked.

I felt a firm grip on the back of my shoulder. "What are you doing to them?!"

I turned. The man with his hand on me wore white leather armor painted, a brilliant blue diamond painted on the breast. He was of the guard, then. I could see tears in the corners of his eyes and noted the way he cradled his arm to his chest. Broken. He must've fought her.

And survived? Lords, she's in a hurry. I must really be catching up. "What's your name, soldier?"

He stared at me, and then just repeated, "What are you doing to them?" His voice was weak, almost exhausted. This was a man on the edge of collapse.

"I can heal them," I said, "but you have to trust me. I can bring them back."

"Bring them back?" He looked from me to the corpses. The weeping guards and servants around us just stared. They would defer to this man, I guessed. "Really?"

"Yes." Most likely. It wasn't a perfect science, especially now, but he didn't need to know that.

"Go ahead," he murmured, releasing me.

I knelt again, trousers soaking up their blood and viscera. Taking a deep breath, I began to assess the king's wounds. His legs were broken, his left arm severed. Someone had brought the appendage back here, which helped. In addition to that, his throat had been slit, and blood trickled out from the messy gash.

The onlookers stared silently at me. They were not crying anymore—instead, they were just watching, eyes on the man who had walked in and swore he could undo the greatest Re'zir tragedy in decades.

I took one of my gloves off and pressed it to the king's still-warm cheek. If there was still this much heat in the bodies, May was really not far at all. If I hurried, maybe I could catch her before she scurried off to Taleheart.

"What is he going to do?" one of the women in the cluster sobbed.

I ignored her and closed my eyes. By now, resurrection was second nature. It didn't take more than a second for the magic to present itself to me.

It had been ten years since I'd graduated from the University, a full master of the healing magics. It had been just as long, however, that May had held mastery of her own gifts.

I concentrated. Depending on the amount of healing a patient required, the magic would present itself differently—a little scratch, and it might just nuzzle up against my mind. Sadly, the days of little scratches were gone for me. The magic came as a tidal wave, a landslide that knocked my breath away. It wasn't pleasant, but then again, neither was being a corpse.

I granted the magic access to my person and all at once, it invaded me. I became a conduit, connecting the magic to the patient.

As the magic bled into me, so did the king. His body became my body, his stopped heart my heart, his lifeless eyes my own. The more intricate parts of his person were harder to attain—his memories, his personality—but his last moments were as clear as day. I could see the last few seconds before he passed into death.

I could see his killer, my wife.

She wore black form-fitting clothes and held a blade in her left hand, the gray metal soaked in crimson. Her black hair was cut short around her neck, the change a necessity of her bloody profession.

As I watched the king's last moments, I could see May wielding her blade with such terrible power. There was no accuracy, no delicacy in her method—it was more of a slaughter than an assassination. She hewed limbs and pierced flesh like she was cutting up meat for supper.

There was a pain in the king's legs, a fiery ache from the two stab-wounds I'd seen on his thighs upon arriving in the room. Presumably, they'd come from my wife.

The queen, mid-cower, fell like wheat beneath May's blade and I—rather, the king—screamed in anguish. May looked to me, amused, and stepped closer. "I know you're there, Theodore."

I stiffened. May only ever called me by my full name to irritate me, she'd always been like that. At a time I'd found it endearing—now it was just annoying.

May knew I followed behind her, undoing her work. She knew how my healing magics worked, and that I would experience the last few seconds of my patients' lives. "You've been catching up," she continued, turning to face a pair of guards. They held wobbly pikes, and I could've sworn I saw her actually smirk before hacking them to pockmarked corpses. "But it's no matter, really. I'll make the distance up soon enough." May sighed, wiping blood from her lip. "I'm going to say it again, sweet—you have to see reason eventually. I know what I'm doing looks bad, but it's all in service of the greater good."

My mouth—no, the king's mouth—moved, and with trembling lips, I said, "W-what are you talking about? Why are you doing this? Please, have mercy!"

May shrugged, twirling her blade easily. "Oh, right. I forgot about you. You'll be dealt with soon enough, your lordship. But before then, I have a little message for my dearest husband." She knelt down so she was at eye-level with the king. "Fourteen-by-Seventh Street, The Sailor's Misfortune. Room Seventeen, tell the owner that you're there to collect a package."

"What are you talking about?" the king stammered. "Please, who are you? Why are you doing this to us?"

A package? What is she talking about? I thought.

May gave the king a pointed smirk, and then leaned in closer. She swung her sword and before he could dodge away, his left arm was cut off at the shoulder. Blood spurted and he screamed. She knelt and slit the king's throat, and it only took a few seconds before I succumbed fully to the asphyxiation and died.

Now came the challenging part.

I—the real me this time—let the healing magic, the tempest that now inhabited my physical form, flow fully into the king's corpse. As always, it hesitated at first, as if breaking through some unseen barrier between a living and a dead organism. However, it only took a moment before the rush of life coursed in took over. It imbued every corner, every little part of the king's body, healing the fatal wounds and restoring him to life. His arm, which had been severed, knit back into its place, the flesh regrowing.

As soon as I felt his heart beating faintly, I coaxed the magic out again. That would be enough. If I let it, the magic would restore him to full health, but I had to save my energy. There was still lots left to do.

I pulled my hands away, fully disconnecting from the king's body. It was uncomfortable, like unsticking two magnets. Before me, the king gasped and spluttered for air, his lungs working once more.

Slow-aching pain washed over me. Resurrection was a challenge even for the best of healers, and I was not the best. Every time I used my body as a conduit for the healing magic, it took a little of my own health out of me. All this running around, undoing May's slaughters, was leaving me weaker and sicker. The only way to get better was to rest, but that wasn't an option. As long as May was so determined to rob others of their lives, personal health was a luxury I was willing to forego.

I ignored the aching sickness in my bones and turned my attention back to the king. My training told me to stay with him, to bind his remaining wounds and keep him calm, but there were other corpses to revive.

I knelt by the queen's body next, steeling myself for another bout of healing. This would have to be over quick if I still wanted to catch up to May, especially now that she'd given me a little message. 'The Sailor's Misfortune, Room Seventeen.'

After another hour, the royal family was breathing again. May's work had been reversed once more, though I felt thoroughly beaten down for it. No matter—as soon as he was well enough to speak, the king insisted on seeing me himself and as much as I wanted to run off after May, I could not refuse an audience with the king of Re'zir.

He'd been taken up to a large bed in the royal infirmary, his wounds bandaged with pressed white cloth. I knew how exhausted he must've felt, propped up by over-stuffed pillows, but he managed to hold himself with an impressive regality.

"My lord," I bowed, standing at the foot of his bed. The queen, prince, and princess were all in a secondary room, receiving their own care. A guard stood outside, but he was out of earshot. We were alone.

"Who are you?" the king asked, his voice weak.

"My name is Teddy Perriweather, my lord. I am a healer."

"Teddy?" he frowned slowly. "You wouldn't happen to go by Theodore, would you?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

Understanding flooded his eyes. "You know her, then."

I nodded again.

"Who is she?"

"The woman who killed you and your family is my wife. Her name is May Perriweather," I explained quietly.

"Your wife? You can't be serious."

"She has certain…misguided beliefs," I said.

He snorted faintly. "Misguided? Son, I've seen misguided, and this wasn't it. Whatever it is she believes, she's committed."

I made no motion.

"I suggest that if you ever find her, you do your best to slip a knife between her ribs like she did to my daughter."

"She is still my wife," I said evenly. "I ask that you refrain from asking me to killher."

He squinted at me, then grinned wryly. "Of course. Is there any way I can repay you?"

I felt my shoulders relax. I'd been hoping he'd ask this—some of the other royal families I'd saved had been less inclined to grant payment, and my personal coffers were growing empty. "Money, and a ship. Your fastest one, I need to be at Taleheart as soon as you can get me there."

Taleheart was the next island drift-wise from Re'zir. It was only a few days' voyage away. As soon as May got there, she would no doubt sneak her way into the Taleheart royal palace and slaughter the royal family there. I'd have to be hasty if I was going to catch up in time to head her off.

The king nodded. "You leave in half an hour with my best crew of servants. They will accompany you ashore in Taleheart and take care of you. Is there anything else I can give you?"

"I need someone to take me to Fourteen-by-Seventh Street, an inn called The Sailor's Misfortune. There's something I need to check on before we set off."

Twenty minutes later, I stood in a moldy-smelling upper hallway. The rooms were numbered, the floor creaking with every step. Rain pattered on the dusty glass windowpane at the end of the hall, rain caused no doubt by May's magics. She left as many storms in her wake as corpses.

Seventeen, the door before me read. The paint was chipped and flaking, the brass handle worn down to a burnished gold. I fit the key into the lock and fumbled for a few seconds before letting it swing open on rusty hinges. Alright, May. What have you left for me?

The room was lit by a single candle, though sunlight snuck through moth-chewed holes in the curtains. At first glance, there was nothing of note, and I almost turned and left. But then I heard a noise—a human sound, a little whine.

Oh, May. You didn't. Tell me you didn't.

I stepped into the room, my heartbeat thundering. Yes, I'd been right. There in the corner was a tiny little crib, and inside, a baby.

Our son. He was barely nine months old and still small for his age. He was swaddled in once-white cloths, now a tattered beige. The opening of the door had stirred him from his slumber and as I stood there over the crib, he began to fuss. His little eyes cracked open, fingers clawing at nothing.

"Hello," I whispered, voice faint with tears. "Hello, baby." I scooped him up gently and cradled him to my chest. "I thought she'd taken you forever." He whined against my shoulder, but I held him tightly.

As I rocked him back and forth, I saw there in the crib, where he'd been laying, was a little note, signed with May's distinguished handwriting. Shifting him to one arm, I plucked it up and unfolded it.

Dearest husband,

I trust you received my message and found our son. I decided to leave him with you for a number of reasons. Firstly, taking care of him has become a large hindrance to my goal. Secondly, I know you well enough to be sure that you won't leave him behind. You'll care for him while you chase me, and that'll buy me some extra time. Thirdly, and most importantly, little Theo misses his father. He's seen enough of me over the past several months.

Please see reason. You know I don't enjoy doing this any more than you enjoy chasing after me, but we read the same prophecy. I'm just doing what's right. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a handful of people to save the world. Why can't you just understand that?

I will not stop this. Eventually, your prolonged use of the healing magics will leave you too sickly to continue chasing after me, and you'll either succumb to the weakness or you'll give up. I wish there was another way to stop you, but I don't think there is. This brings me no more pleasure than it brings you, I promise. Though we disagree on things, you are still my husband, Theodore. I love you. Please admit reason and join me.

I am sure that by now, you have attempted reaching out to other masters of the healing magic, asking for their help in counteracting my work. However, I feel it only polite to let you know that the letters you sent out were intercepted by my network and destroyed. I always told you scrying magic was powerful, and now you will pay the price for ignoring it.

As I said before, dear, I love you. Take care of our baby for me, and please give up this ignoble quest to stop my progress. You know you will fail.

—May

I folded the letter back up and tucked it in my pocket, gently shushing Theo as he fussed. "I'm sorry Mama left you," I murmured, "but I'm here. You're safe with me."

I'd wasted too much time here. May was doubtless already at sea, and my vessel was waiting to give chase to her.

"Come, Theo. Let's go find your mother."