“What does that mean?” you shout, but no one answers. The air crackles with confusion—questions flying like arrows: Who is she? How is this possible?

The gray-cloaked woman calls herself Elysian, claiming to be the power source you’ve been searching for. How could a person be that? And what does she want?

Your powers are gone—inflicting, telepathy, fire, shields—all dead. Everyone’s shaken, even Lady Gisela, whose trolls stand frozen.

“I am not responsible for trespassers,” Elysian says calmly.

“But you know what’s happening to us?” Gisela presses.

Elysian ignores her. “I want to know how you found me.”

Gisela points at you. “Ask her. The moonlark led us here.”

You clench your fists. “Your starstone brought me—starstones only go where they’ve been. So tell me how you got here first.”

“I do not remember,” Elysian murmurs, tugging her hood lower.

Keefe leans close. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Probably not,” you mutter, heart racing as you glimpse the long red hair under Elysian’s hood.

He grins. “At least you’re blushing instead of panicking.”

“Keefe—focus.”

“I am. You’ll thank me later.”

Gisela cuts in, her tone sharp. “You claim you’re no villain, yet you erase our powers and hide behind riddles.”

“This is my home,” Elysian replies. “Not a prison. I stay because I choose to.”

“Choice can be an illusion,” Gisela says. “Ask my son.”

You step between them, ready to stop the fight, but Keefe beats you to it. “We know how this ends,” he says. “Mom tries to recruit Elysian, fails, calls the trolls, chaos starts. Foster saves everyone, Mom escapes, and we all wait for round two.”

Elysian watches in silence.

“But not this time,” Keefe adds. “Because I still have Hope.”

Your stomach drops—he means your dagger.

Before you can move, Keefe lunges. Silver flashes. His mother falls.

The grass turns red.