The first thing I see when I wake up is Amelia. She is sitting at my bedside.

Sunlight filters through the silky curtains behind her, casting her frame in a glowing haze. Her alabaster skin, full blonde hair, and buttoned-up shirt shimmer with a faint green light, from the demize clock.

"You're awake," she says, pulling me from the cusp of consciousness.

"What are you doing here? Where did you get that?"

Her bright eyes gleam with mischief, but she says nothing.

I wouldn’t put it past her to try to steal it again, especially while I’m bedridden. Her lips curl into an evil smirk.

Without thinking, I roll forward, close the gap, and jab at her throat.

She falls back, evading with unexpected finesse.

While the demize clock drained me, she must’ve been honing her craft, because I’ve never seen her move like this. Even by mistake, I should have landed a kick.

She dodges every punch, hook, and kick.

"Frankie, stop!"

We both crash to the ground in a tangle.

I try to reach for a chokehold. "Hey, look at me! Stop!"

Her alabaster skin melts into gold, turquoise eyes shift to obsidian, concerned. Her face morphs—into Xanthe’s.

"It’s me... It’s Xanthe," he whispers, breathless, both hands gently holding my face. I grip them instinctively, dazed.

"It’s okay... it’s okay, you’re hallucinating."

His voice anchors me. The warmth of him feels oddly safe. Then, I recoil, realization hitting like cold water.

"What are you doing here?"

He runs a hand through his hair, attempting to collect himself. "There’s an explanation—"

The bedroom door opens. In walk Tetris, Bottega, and Jade.

"What’s going on? What’s he doing here?"

"First of all, it’s good to see you’re up," Jade offers with a relieved smile.

The others nod before Bottega clears his throat. "Lord Xanthe..."

Lord?

"...is a qualified doctor in both the underworld and the Upperland."

Xanthe’s eyes meet mine briefly, something unreadable behind them.

"Well, I have to be going," he says, stepping forward and placing the clock gently on my bedside.

"Take it easy and rest."

"Already?" Tetris pouts. "I had so many ideas to run by you."

"Feel free to come by the office anytime," he says with a smile.

"Thanks for everything," Jade waves politely.

He bows, then exits.

***

"What was that?"

"What was what?" I place the clock on the drawer.

"You could’ve at least said thank you instead of glaring at him like you wanted to eat him alive."

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "I don’t owe that man anything. Like you said, he’s a doctor. He was doing his job. Besides, he’s using my office and my room. That’s thanks enough. Or did we forget how he and his men ruined our Serminian mission?"

"About that," Jade starts, "they didn’t know we were coming. Madame Brooke kept our visit off the records."

"How do you know that?"

"He spent the whole night here..."

"What?"

"...most of it at your bedside, monitoring your vitals," Tetris adds, casually.

"And you let him?"

"We couldn’t remove the arrow from your arm," Bottega says.

I blink at the three of them.

"Tetris fainted at the sight of your blood," Bottega mutters. "From there, things kind of... went downhill. We needed a doctor, and he was the closest."

"Since when do you faint at blood? You’ve shot people."

"I was counting on the Sisters for that side of things. And Madame Sage’s healing powers."

I show them my bandaged arm. "At least tell me who did this."

"Sebura clan siren. Yelena. Seeking revenge for your father's role in the Typhoon. Brought her into this world. Left her two children in another."

Great. Second time. This time, she got me. So much for a break.

"On the plus side," Tetris brightens, "the underworlds have agreed to back off all our operations. They’re out of our way. Xanthe confirmed. He’s kind of awesome."

"Yeah, principled guy, that merman," Bottega adds.

"Can you all get out? I need rest. Doctor’s orders."

Really, I just need quiet. Time to think.

My condition... it’s strange. I feel reborn. Like I’ve been dragged back to life.

***

True to their word, the underworlds have stepped aside. With their interference gone, our schedule has been running smoothly. We decide to move on the mission.

"You sure this is the spot?"

The Serminian sun scorches my eyes as I kneel beside the quicksand pit.

"Yes, I’m sure," Tetris says, pocketing her compass.

In front of us: a marshy field surrounded by forest. Embedded in the sand are enormous footprints.

"Mark it," she says.

"We need to talk about this."

"The Panjandrum already decided, Franchesca. All that’s left is our part."

"Just hear me out. Look at those prints. These creatures are only going to get bigger. Less cooperative. We’re risking a lot."

"And the 88 merchants? Nightfall season’s coming. What do we do about that?"

Silence.

I sigh and start drawing the golem symbol in the dirt.

The ground shifts. Rises. Massive golems erupt from the mud.

Handguns are banned in Pyrenees—except for moments like this. Tetris always finds the loophole. We draw, stepping back in sync.

"We demand a meeting," she says, flashing the meruba flower.

***

The golems lurch down a dry trail, guiding us into a dark cave.

We use our weapons and the flower as a shield. Not that it matters. They’re not sentient. Just muscle.

Eventually, we reach a chamber. One golem rumbles something unintelligible, then lets us pass.

"Ah, the flower girls."

A bald man with sagging skin and an oozing belly rises from a muddy pit. A robe is thrown over him.

He moves like a pig. His smile, yellowed and wide, makes my stomach turn.

"Franchesca. A celestial surprise. You live up to the hype. Lord Fredra."

"Lord Fredra," I repeat coolly, the stench clawing at my nose.

He gestures to the muddy lair, glowing with lanterns and flanked by golems.

"Don’t mind the look. I’ll be swimming in the Morais Sea later."

"Can he stop?" Tetris gags.

"We hear you’ve been troubling the villagers."

"We need food."

"Not their livestock. They depend on that."

"Then we’ll take the children. That’s an idea."

"Fredra—"

"Lord Fredra."

I grit my teeth. "Lord Fredra, we’ll make room for your kind, if you cooperate. Leave the villagers and their resources or go back underground."

"Is that a threat, child?"

"No. That’s a promise. I’m ready to wipe you out. My friend here still sees value in you."

"In what way?"

"We could use an ally."

"The flowers want allies," he snorts, like a pig.

"Fine. While you ponder, let me show you something."

Tetris holds up the gun, then the meruba flower.

His eyes widen. The facade crumbles.

"Where did you get that?"

"The flower that dries wetlands? That can erase your golems? From the depths of Pyrenees."

He stumbles back. "You have no right."

"Neither did you—when you created a species to sway Pyrenees’ power. Now you’re just another pawn in Madame Brooke’s game."

He seethes. "They follow me."

"And you’ll follow us."

Tetris raises the flower again.

"You wouldn’t."

"Try us. We’ve got more. Or… work with us. Leave the people alone."

♤♤♤

Back at the cottage, laughter fills the room as Tetris relays how quickly Fredra caved.

It’s the kind of evening that makes you want to curl up and forget the world. That’s exactly what I do. Early to bed. Sleep has come easily since I woke from the arrow.

I’m about to drift into dreams when I notice the demize clock.

It’s glowing again.

Back to its original, eerie green.