Rhys grunts as Cassian and Azriel toss him back in the living room, battered and bruised, their hands all messed up but slowly healing. Feyre gasps and jumps up, running over to him.

"What is wrong with you, are you crazy!?"

Rhys coughs up some blood and stumbles to his feet. "No, no. Feyre—it's...I think I deserved it. It was a long time coming. I accept it. Honestly, if anyone should have done that to me, it should have been you."

Feyre shakes her head and helps him to the sofa as he pants, leaning his head against it as his face heals.

Cassian still wears a grimace but reaches for Nesta, who early hooks arms with him. Azriel's shadows swarm him in anger, and it's not helped by the way Mor had reappeared and taken his mate for some family emergency. He trusts her with Gwyn, of course. But the fact that he isn't there and can feel Gwyn's distress puts him severely on edge.

As if he has summoned her, Mor and Gwyn winnow into the River House. He immediately notes that her face is tear-streaked and he goes to grab at her to comfort her, but she evades his arms, making a beeline to Nesta.

"Nesta! Oh gods, thank the Cauldron you're still here. I need your help immediately!" Azriel's shadows quickly abandon him to swarm around Gwyn, toying with her hair to comfort her.

Nesta blinks and takes her hand. "My help? With what?"

"I need the Dead Trove."

"Rhys and Feyre sit up straight and Rhys's brow furrows. "The Dread Trove? It's locked up in the Day Court. It's a danger to have around, Gwyneth. Nobody can even access it—"

"Except me", Nesta interrupts him. "What exactly do you need it for, Gwyn?"

Gwyn takes a shaky breath and looks around the room at everyone weakly. "I know you all probably won't care. But I do."

Azriel hugs her from behind and nuzzles her shoulder. "If you care, I care."

Gwyn scoffs a bit. "I think you may care the least, Az."

"What is it, love?"

She swallows hard and glances between all the faces staring back at her. "It's my father—it-it's Eris. He's dead."

Faces turn stunned and Azriel's jaw sets slightly, but he keeps a hold of his mate. Before anyone can get a word in, she continues.

"I know he has a bad history, and he has not been the best person. I know that he is not on your list of favorite people, but he was working with us. He wanted to make Autumn safe for everyone when he takes over, right? And he promised we could get to know one another. Please. I need to bring him back. I lost my mother and my sister. I can't lose him too. I can't lose the opportunity to know him, and Prythian cannot lose out on having hope for a fair and just Autumn Court in the future. Please!" The tears begin to flow down her face again as she pleads her case and Nesta hugs her tightly, tears welling up in her own eyes, remembering how she was not able to stop her own father from being slaughtered in front of her very eyes.

Nesta sniffles and squeezes her best friend's hands. "I'll help you. Eris may not have been my favorite person, but I lost time with my father that I pray we could have had to get past all the bullshit. I never got that chance. If I can give you the chance, I will. You're my best friend."

Rhys stands up and crosses his arms. "Nesta, that is not a good idea. Yes, I get that it may be in our best interest to keep Eris around, but at what cost?"

Nesta flashes her teeth at him and a spark of that silver fire flickers in her eyes. Gwyn's lip trembles as she clings to her friend and mate.

Cassian speaks, lowly and carefully. "Of course you are thinking more about the best interests of us, than you are of Gwyn's grief right now. I fully admit there were times I hated that male with a passion. But I came to see that like you, he has to wear an armor like a second skin, pretending to be an evil that he is not to survive, to garner any sense of control or respect because of Beron. Rhys, you had a terrible father. So did I, so did Azriel, Amren, so does Mor, and so does half of Prythian. As much as I hated him, I don't think he would have been a terrible father to Gwyn. Not only that, but yes, it is in the best interest of all of Prythian to keep him here to take over Autumn when the time comes."

Azriel has been quiet as death itself until he pipes up, facing Rhys. "I was the first person that wanted him...gone. I nearly did it with my bare hands years ago. But this is my mate; and her happiness. And if I must deal with Eris to keep her happy, I will. It's her father. And Cass has a point...he would've been good to her if not to anyone else. Feyre, what do you think?"

Feyre swallows and looks from Gwyn to Nesta, then to Rhys. "I think it's time we pay it forward. I remember begging Tamlin for your life, and he gave it. He begged for mine, and you gave it. Gwyn is begging for her father's life...it's the least we can do. Not only for her, but for Prythian. I think Eris is a more important player than we anticipated. He really is the only true hope Autumn has.

Rhys groans and looks from person to person. Mor has been eerily quiet and Amren is curled up on the sofa, drinking wine.

"Mor? This affects you as well. He was your rejected mate."

Mor looks at Gwyn and takes a deep breath. He was...and I've come to the same conclusion. Maybe more than anyone else, I saw behind the mask. At the end of the day, he was a good male. It's...weird and hollow not to feel the bond. Uncomfortable. Painful, despite knowing we weren't together. But this is not up to me, it's up to Gwyn. If I had a father who cared to know me the way Eris wanted to know Gwyn...anyway, yes. We should help."

"Amren?"

Amren glances up at Rhys and raises an eyebrow. "Why should I have a say in this, I'm not invested either way. No offense, girl", she nods to Gwyn.

"I suppose I can't stop you then", he replies, looking at Gwyn and Nesta.

Cassian smirks. Mor and I will escort them to the Day Court. I have a feeling we will help persuade Helion into giving Nesta access to the chamber where they are kept.

Rhys rolls his eyes and Azriel groans. "I'm coming too. Those objects, as Rhys said, can be dangerous. If there is any threat posed to Gwyn—"

Gwyn turns and places her hands on his chest, pulling him close and placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Nesta won't let anything hurt me. Neither will Cass. I don't want to stress you out any more than I have to."

"You're my mate. I want to keep you safe."

"Yes, you are. But you're also the male who said that you trusted me to know when to fight for myself too, remember?"

He scrunches up his face in annoyance and a small smile comes to her face. "I'll be okay", she murmurs, cupping his face. "I promise, shadowsinger."

Az shakes his head. "Those objects only take a bargain in exchange for a life. Gwyn...I—I can't lose you either."

"I would never bargain away our bond. Even if it didn't diminish our love, my connection to you is sacred. I think...I think I have another gift the Cauldron may want."

"Gwyn."

Her eyes sparkle with tears. "It's foolish to cry over something so trivial, but my father's life is more important. I will tell you when it's done."

"Your nymph form is a part of you", he whispers, tugging her closer to him.

"I know, and it's not that. That's a part of my mother I'd like to keep. Don't worry about me, okay? I trust Nesta and Cassian. You do too."

Az grumbles and nuzzles her neck. "Alright, priestess. Go on then. Before I never let you out of my arms."

Gwyn kisses him once more and goes over to Mor, Cassian, and Nesta. Azriel watches as his shadows return to him, humming with anxiety as he watches them disappear.

.

.

.

Helion laughs as he makes flirty jokes with Cassian and Mor in the back of the foyer trying not to look utterly terrified of the Dread Trove objects being taken out of their encasement.

Nesta goes over and pulls Gwyn down the stone stairwell to under Helion's palace, where the objects are sealed. She takes a breath, looking at the flat stone jutting out of the wall. "What if I no longer have the power to open it?"

Gwyn hugs her arm. "You do. I know you do."

"I'll need a blade."

"A blade?"

"It is sealed to my blood. It will only respond to my blood."

"Is...is the fourth trove here?"

"The fourth? No. I saw it in a vision once, that the monster Lanthys had given me. He wanted me to find it, but it could have been a trick. He was evil and imprisoned after all."

"How did you find the others?"

"They called to me. Well...all but the harp. You led me to the harp."

"I led you to it? No, I didn't."

"Yes. You did. I don't know what kind of power you possess, Gwyn, but it's strong and within you. When you were singing at the service at the temple. You...glowed. Really brightly; this pure white light came from you, and your singing dragged me to where the harp was being held. It was like I was in spirit form. And I did get it. It's like you transported me there."

Gwyn nods slowly. "We need to get the fourth trove. I was doing research about it after the last time you had to use the other three. Merrill and I came across ancient texts about them. We had to translate them, which took months and months, but it is said that the fourth object is a box made of bone that can trap, keep, or destroy souls. It also said that it is the twin to the onyx box that Koschei possesses."

"Onyx is the symbol for power, stamina, and perseverance. That must be why Koschei is so indestructible. I believe he keeps his soul in the box, so his physical form can't die. Bone, as we know, is the symbol for life, death, and mortality. If we get the bone box, it won't only help bring my father back, but it could help destroy Koschei. We could have the one thing that queens don't have. I have a suspicion that they have taken so long to start the next war because they are looking for it. I wanted to do more research and see if I could figure out a location for it, but I haven't so far.

But unlike Koschei's box, which was said to be spelled by an old god, the bone box was once a Made item of the Trove. The rumors are that it was unmade since the veil between life and death was pulled too thin when it was used and caused too much of a risk, but that never made sense to me because the harp does the same thing right? Death bows down to the last string. So, I'm thinking that the bone box was not actually unmade, but that the old fae were so terrified of tampering with it, that they hid it somewhere even harder to find than the Crown, the Mask, and the Harp."

Nesta blinks and stares at her friend. "Gods you are way smarter than I ever gave you credit for, Berdara."

Gwyn blushes a bit. "I don't know about my bloodlines, not in depth. And I never knew why my singing affected people so."

Nesta gasps. "What if you are the descendant of whatever fae hid the fourth trove? What if their power spelled it away and your...siren gift is the key to finding it? And since I was chosen by the Cauldron to wield the items, maybe it's no mistake that we met one another. I am the lock and you are the key."

"Lightsinger, but..same difference. That would make sense though...as I am only a quarter light-singer and usually that wouldn't be enough to pass down this much power from that side. But Nes..."

"What?"

"I was going to bargain that very power to save my dad."

"Gwyn..."

"Maybe I still can. If I can help you locate the fourth trove now, after we use the bone box, maybe I can give it back to the Cauldron so it will never fall into the wrong hands, along with my power to locate it."

"But then you won't be able to locate Koschei's when the war comes."

"Maybe not, but that's...balance, right? Unfair advantage at finding the bone box and saving my father. For a disadvantage against Koschei."

Nesta sighs and shakes her head. "Rhys would be furious if he knew what we were giving up. Thank gods he doesn't know you have this power. Nobody ever will."

"Az does."

"Az wouldn't put you in harm's way, or at risk by Rhysand's wrath."

"No, he wouldn't. But I'll still feel guilty."

"There will be other ways. There always are."

"I hope you're right."

"Start singing priestess, while they're distracted; before they come down here."

"Nes, you're pregnant. Isn't this risky?"

"The Trove only answers to me. It has never harmed me before. I doubt it will now. Now come on, time is of the essence."

Gwyn chews her lip then closes her eyes and begins singing, the dazing melody echoing off the cavern walls. Her entire being becomes encased in a near-blinding white aura, glowing like the moon. Nesta grabs the wall as she becomes lightheaded and her vision shifts like reality itself, as if she is within a glitch in the fabric of the universe.

Suddenly Nesta finds herself alone in the dark. The hair on her arms and neck stand up as the frigid air hits her skin. At the end of the seemingly long tunnel she was brought to, a faint glowing gold light shines, having no beginning and no end. She forces her feet to move, closer and closer towards it, until it becomes clearer.

An altar—a stone altar with veining of gold, cream, and black. Animated shadows dance around it in a pattern; over and over, encircling the object placed on it. Doing her best to peek past them, Nesta focuses on where the light is directed; to an object that sits front and center on top of the altar. It is a gleaming piece of bone. No—not one bone, four bones, a lid in the shape of a rectangle on top of a box made of smaller ones, equally clean and gleaming. As she moves forward still, the shadows slow, sneaky and wary of her, and she gets a chill down her back. The feeling of being watched, like they are eyes, spies, protectors. Yet they do not attack her.

She doesn't think of her fear or her nerves. Now is not the time to become hesitant.

"For Gwyn", she thinks to herself. "For Gwyn."

Reaching her hands out, she is slightly surprised that the shadows continue to simply watch, even as they seem to pulse with energy, as they close around the box and she lifts it off the alter toward her chest. "Gotcha", she murmurs. Turning around she walks back the way she came, the golden light and the shadows following, twirling around her body. She ignores them, not knowing how volatile protectors of the most coveted trove items could be if confronted directly. They must have some sort of master, much like Azriel is the master of his.

Her world begins to sway and distort once again and she clings to the box in her hands as her vision gets dark and sparkly.

She groans as her head pounds, opening her eyes and squinting in the brightness of the lamps on the cavern walls. Gwyn stands there gaping at her before a broad smile crosses her face.

"Nesta, you did it! You found it!", she squeals.

Nesta gasps and looks down at her hands, the box made of bone still clutched in them, glowing gold, a smaller version of those creepy shadows making a path around it.

Gwyn raises an eyebrow. "Az's shadows?"

"No. Not Azriel's. They're colder. More ancient. Keepers of the box in some way."

"Hm...right. Well good news, those three are too busy chatting it up to have heard my singing. I'm thrilled that it worked though."

"Me too. But I still need a blade, I don't make a habit of carrying the one Cassian gifted to me."

Gwyn blushes and reaches into her boot, pulling out a dagger.

"Oh gods, I should have expected Azriel's mate to be prepared."

Gwyn giggles lightly and hands it to her. "I'm sorry you have to go through all of this for me."

"For Prythian, as well as for you. I will say, it's weird that your dad had a crush on me. But I'll let that slide and forget it ever happened."

"He what?"

"He actually proposed to me."

'Oh, gods, please don't ever tell me that ever again."

Nesta can't help but let out a laugh before she slowly slices her hand, hissing. "Fuck."

That's when Cassian, Mor, and Helion rush down there and heave a sigh of relief. Cassian swallows, looking at the blood pooling in her palm. "Nes..."

"You two had been down here so long we got worried", Mor says.

Helion is the farthest away, already wary of the mask and its odd effects that the magic has on him. "Yes, especially since those things are volatile even if you don't provoke them."

Cassian takes note of Nesta again. "Wait, what in Cauldron's name is that?", he asks, motioning to the bone box.

"The fourth object of the trove", Gwyn replies. "We need it to get Eris's soul back."

Mor gapes and Helion looks horrified.

"How did you get it?"

Nesta rolls her steely eyes at him. "I have my ways, darling. You should know that already."

With that, she places her hand down flat on the flat stone and it sparks to life, magic fed by her blood as the cavern wall parts, revealing a glittering room filled with light, the three trove objects in their rightful cases.

Helion grunts and staggers back. "I—I'm going back upstairs. That thing hates me", he mutters, rubbing his temples in pain before taking the stairs two at a time. Cassian goes to follow Nesta, to protect her but she holds her hand up to him. "No. I don't need the interference. Let it happen."

"Nesta, the babe..."

"...will be fine. I wouldn't let anything bad happen. I'd stop if I felt anything terrible. You have my word, Cass", she tells him, handing Gwyn her dagger back.

He grips the cavern wall, feeling helpless and Gwyn looks on with wide eyes, Mor standing back but watching in awe.

"Fuck, if I had seen her in all her power, maybe I would have been more afraid of her back then."

Cass tosses her an irritated glance and she raises her hands in defeat.

Nesta tucks the box under one arm and walks into the golden lair, first placing the crown on her head, then attaching the mask to her face, and finally, gripping the harp with her free hand as she strolls back out, the walls closing up again after her. Her body is outlined in powerful, crackling silver light that flickers like flames. Like her Cauldron power.

"Is...is her...?", Mor marvels.

Nesta rolls her eyes. "No, I think it just enflames whatever scraps are left in me. So...let's go save Eris then, troops." With that, she marches right back up the stairs as Gwyn, Mor, and Cassian trail after her.

.

.

.

Lucien paces back and forth as Nuan tries to calm him down. "They will be here soon. It will work. It has to work."

"What if it does?"

"What?"

"What if it does? What if he wakes up, and sees all of us, and himself laying there, and his hair mostly gone...he's going to blow up. And I mean literally. Autumn Court fire has a habit of coming out when we are cornered."

Nuan squeezes his arm and stops him from pacing. "Whatever happens, he will be alive, Luc. That's all that matters. He will be himself again."

"Will he? How do we know that he won't come back from this a completely different person?"

"Magic. The box knows which soul belongs to which body."

"Right...I suppose."

He looks at his friend, weary-eyed, and manages a small smile. "I'm sorry. I'm putting all of this on you, and you are grieving too. I never knew you two were...yeah; weird. But, you were and you have feelings. So I'm sorry I'm making this all about me, Nu. That's not fair. You've been so...put together and I've been falling apart when I'm usually not like this. I'm usually a lot more put together than this and I don't get why I am so frazzled right now."

"Because it's someone you love. And the last time it was someone you loved...they didn't come back. There was no way." Nuan hugs him tightly. "And that was not your fault either. I think you blame yourself for a lot of things that you seem to think you can prevent, but in reality, you simply can't."

Lucien tears up again, his thoughts flickering to Jesminda and her pained expression as she was murdered and she shakes it away, his breaths ragged again. "I hated him. But he was still my brother. The only one I called a brother. As horrible as he has been...there was a time when he wasn't. And I feel stupid for believing he ever truly changed. I guess I also hardened over the centuries." He sighs deeply and squeezes her shoulder. "There I go making this about me again. Sorry."

Nuan smiles sympathetically. "I have to be positive. Being negative won't help. I believe your niece when she said she would get it done."

"Cauldron boil and fry me", he mutters. "Niece. That is going to sound odd for a while."

"I'd imagine it was a shock."

"To Eris too I'd think. A secret daughter? As if he hasn't had enough taken from him. His choices, his dignity...and to find out his daughter too?"

"It was difficult for him to wrap his head around. And I know you haven't heard the full story but the girl's mother? He loved her. She was created in love. If anything I hope that will ease her suffering if this does not work. That they would be together again in the arms of the Mother. With her sister."

Lucien swallows hard and nods slowly. "Twins", he murmurs. "Gods, the losses Gwyneth has suffered too. Seems like a horrid Autumn Court curse."

"Which will hopefully end with your brother if we can get the fourth trove object to work. I have done some research but not to an extensive amount."

"I have", a voice says from behind them. Turning, they see Gwyn, Mor, and Nesta. Dahlia's jaw drops and she slides to her knees at the presence of the full trove, its power shining brightly, an electric buzz and pulse in the air. Nuan stares and Lucien's eyes widen.

Gwyn smiles slightly. "I live and work in the library. I'm an assistant research analyst most days. I know about the trove better than most. It just so happens that my best friend is also the one person who can wield it and gift it. You'll all need to stand back, just to be safe."

Cassian watches them, extremely concerned, but does as instructed, trying to trust Nesta the best he can.

Everyone else steps back and Nesta hands the bone box to Gwyn gently. She takes it and chews her lip, slowly placing it on Eris's chest. The small black shadows still surround it, but nothing happens.

"Why isn't anything happening?", Lucien questions.

"Shh, let me think. It was something that you said earlier", Gwyn muses, turning to Nesta. "That you were the lock. and I was the key. I knew that sounded familiar, but I didn't place it until right now. The fourth trove. There—there is a process to getting it to work. Three steps. Find it, possess it, and activate it. To...unlatch it so to speak. Maybe like a code of some sort. There has to be some sort of trick to getting it to open. To activate.

"Think, think, think", she mumbles to herself, rubbing her temples.

Nesta moves forward and places a hand on the bone box. The shadows around it twist around her hand and seem to hum, the melodic sound reverberating through the room.

Gwyn's eyes fly open again and widen. "I know what it is."

Nesta pulls her hand back and the shadows return to the box loyally.

"I—I've heard that melody before."

"Mor? Cass?"

"Yes?"

"You need to go get Az. Quickly."

"Az?"

Gwyn looks at them point blank. "The shadowsinger."

"Oh...OH!", Cassian's eyes widen. Mor's face lights up with sudden understanding and she nods as well, grabbing Cassian's arm and winnowing them out.

Gwyn looks at Nesta. "Three steps. Three old gods. Three ancestors. And three trove items, since this fourth one was supposed to have been unmade. But it wasn't. It's the only one spelled by the shadowsinger. That must be why they are still feared; as if the secret knowledge was passed down that they're the key to something that could be life-altering."

"That makes sense, actually. And why most people can't say or won't say why they are wary of Az, even though he's a good person. But...so it was a high fae, a shadowsinger, and..."

"And a witch. That spelled the items.", Nesta muses. "My family. We...we must have already had ties to Prythian."

Gwyn smiles softly. "And you're the eldest daughter. Many of the old fae, and the ones with darker magic who were called witches, held the belief that still stands today, that the magic of the firstborn is the strongest."

Nesta smiles slightly. "Here I was, thinking I would never be anything special to anyone."

Gwyn squeezes her hand. "Yet you are the most special to the Cauldron, to Cassian, and to me and Emerie. I wish she was here to see this right now."

"I'm sure she's plenty busy with her new beau and her shop, which has almost too many customers this close to winter", Nesta chuckles lightly.

Gwyn nods. Turning back to Eris, she sighs and strokes his chopped-off hair gently. "He didn't deserve this. I know he's done things he's ashamed of. But the way his father...how anyone could—Beron needs to go."

Lucien sighs. "Beron has needed to go for centuries. Even long before I was born. He became the carbon copy of his horrific father and his grandfather before that. Which is why Eris was such a call to change. He's...like you said, regrettably gray in some respects. But he had to be to survive living there. He's not like Beron though, not even close."

Nuan holds Eris's hand and strokes over his skin with her thumb. "I think even if he is embarrassed or feels vulnerable, he'd still be secretly flattered that you all even cared. He's told me a few times that nobody would care. He believed that. It will be good if he can see that...that isn't true."

Gwyn looks at her and blushes. "Were you two...?"

"Not super serious yet but...I think we were getting closer."

"I'm glad he had someone in his corner", she says softly. "Thank you."

Nuan inclines her head. "You're welcome. I must say, he was quite flustered when he found out about you. But he was happy. He wanted to be the kind of person who deserved your love, Gwyneth. He wanted to protect you too, however. If Beron found out about you, it wouldn't be pretty."

"That's what I'm afraid happened", she tears up. "What if this is my fault? What if he was killed because of this revelation?"

Nuan reaches over and places her free hand on top of hers. "It's not your fault either way. The fault is Beron's alone."

Gwyn sniffs and nods, taking a deep breath.

Just then, Mor, Cassian, and Azriel show up. Az rushes over to Gwyn, but stops short, his eyes averting to a very lifeless Eris on the slab with lashes and lopped hair, and he stares in shock.

Straightening up, Gwyn turns and grabs Azriel's hands, her eyes still watery. "I know you didn't like him, but we need this. I need this. Please."

"I—I don't know how I can help", he says, looking down at her wearily, glancing from Nesta decked out with the trove, to the body, to everyone else in the room before looking back down at his mate.

"The fourth trove", she tells him, motioning to the box on Eris's chest. "The soul box."

Azriel looks at it and his eyes soften slightly, noticing the shadows dancing around it protectively. "They're humming."

"The same song you sang to me", she whispers. "The one you mentioned your mother taught you."

"You're the code. The way to activate it. The shadows...they will only allow it to work if a descendant of the original shadowsinger who spelled it knows the right song. The right bar so to speak. It's only a very quiet hum to us but—"

"It's much louder to me."

"You're the code, Az. My ribbon and my code."

He sends her a nervous half-smile, his eyes filled with hesitancy. "I don't know..."

"Please". She whispers, looking up at him with her wide, innocent eyes. "Please. For me."

"I—", he swallows hard.

Never once has he sung in front of others aside from Gwyn in the comfort of their new home. Not once was he confident enough to do so, even if he knew he sounded good.

He peers around at all the faces in the room and can feel the anxiety eating away at him within his chest. Gwyn slides her hand into his and intertwines their fingers. "I'll sing with you. Focus on me, hm?"

Cassian grins and Mor watches curiously. Lucien looks on nervously as well, but Nuan squeezes his shoulder. Dahlia is in the far corner, in awe at everything going on in her lab.

Azriel closes his eyes. "For you, my light."

Taking a grounding breath, he begins to sing the tune of the shadows around the bone box. Gwyn follows his lead and sings with him, singing the bar of notes over and over. The box shadows rush over, seeming to play with Azriel's shadows in recognition of family. They swivel and swirl, and all of them return to the box, encircling so fast that they are a blur of motion.

Once the bar of notes has been sung four full times by Azriel and Gwyn, the box explodes with a blinding gold light and the lid swings open, one singular music note seeming to call for something. Within moments, a glowing orb of white floats into the room, taking up its place in the box.

Eris's soul. Everyone present stares at it, jaws slackened.

Gwyn gasps and Lucien leans forward on the balls of his feet.

The soul seems to vibrate with energy before it melts into a pool of white, seeping through the bottom of the box.

Nesta turns and bestows the crown, the mask, and the harp to Gwyn, her own white magic glowing around her. As his soul creeps back into his body, Gwyn swallows hard and taps into the full power of the trove, bringing Eris's body back to an animated state, his skin going from a ghastly pale to a glowing pink again, his lungs seeming to breathe and his heart beating once again within his chest.

When the last of his soul has sunk back into his body, that's when Gwyn leans over him—and plucks the last string of the harp.

A resounding ping floats through the air and Gwyn's vision goes tunneled and swirled with colors. In this void of power, she can hear the Cauldron speak to her.

"What will you gift me for his life, sweet priestess?" It hisses.

"My light-singer powers. My singing voice."

"Very well. It is done", it murmurs eerily, and she can feel its tendril-like fingers caressing the skin of her throat as she tries not to squirm away. Suddenly she's falling through the winding tunnel. Falling, falling, falling...just as Eris shoots straight up in the cot, a strangled gasp forcing air into him as he looks around wildly.