"Are you sure you're up for this?" Dante asked as I slipped on my shoes. "You can barely walk."

"Doesn't matter," I muttered, shaking my head. "I need to do this now."

I'd been sitting in my room for three days trying to recover from breaking the Thread. If I was honest, I wasn't ready to get up and walk around yet. I felt like roadkill. However, considering the information that had only just come together in my brain, I needed to grit my teeth and do it anyways. The Council needed to know this. They needed to know about magic dying.

Well, if they even believed me. If they didn't already know about magic dying. More than likely someone knew something, based on what Dante had told me before, but it didn't sound like they had all the pieces they needed to solve the problem. Not yet, anyways.

... One slow, careful, slightly wobbly step down the Sylvan Castle hallway at a time.

"This isn't going to be easy," Dante said, sighing as he wrapped his arm around me to help support me as I walked. "They'll want answers you may not want to give."

I didn't want to admit that his support made walking much, much easier. It would just make him worry, after all. I still found myself clutching onto him a little as we moved, though.

"What, like I was dating a guy who turned out to be legitimately evil?" I scoffed. "Hey, at least I caught it and came to my senses with enough time to steal his stupid book."

Embarrassing? Yeah, absolutely. It wasn't to the point of no return, though. The point of no return would have been allowing him to use the promise of some perfect, incorruptible, inevitable connection to seduce me into helping him build a really, really shitty world.

At least it wasn't that. I had to focus on the good parts for now, or else I'd probably scream in front of the Council. I might scream in front of the Council anyways, actually. It was that kind of morning.

Unsurprisingly, there was a guard at the doors to the meeting room. That was good, in a way, because it meant the Council was actually in session. I'd half expected them to be off today, at lunch, or conveniently somewhere else the one time that I really, really needed to talk to them. Good news, though: They were here!

Bad news: Judging by the look on the guard's face, I definitely wasn't on the list of people he was allowed to let inside.

"Please," Dante said, shooting the guard a look. "I assure you, it's important."

The guard hesitated, but he moved to the side so that we could open the doors. That was one of the advantages to dating the prince, I supposed...

Wait. Dating...

Shit, there was that rabbit hole again. I had other things to worry about now, though. We could hash through it later.

The Council room was much the same as I remembered it. There were the same number of people sitting around chattering, the same empty seats all around. I was almost surprised that there wasn't an audience, but it made sense. If there were guards posted at the door to protect the security of whatever they were jabbering about, why would there be an audience?

I went in first, Dante on my heels, and all the chatter in the room almost immediately stopped. I kept walking, the sound of my unsteady footfalls on the blue carpet the only noise in the room for a moment.

"Good morning, Miss Waters," King Balmir said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm afraid this isn't the best time—"

"I'm sorry, but it can't wait," I said, shaking my head. "I have new information." I carefully approached the bench, trying to plan how best to introduce what I needed to say—

Well, until my legs decided they'd had enough for the day and I tumbled to the floor in front of the entire Council, King and Queen included. I hadn't planned on the day turning into a comedy sketch, but clearly we were halfway there already, gasps from he audience included.

"I'm good," I muttered, already feeling a pair of hands pulling me to my feet. "I'm fine, I swear."

To my surprise, though, the person pulling me to my feet wasn't Dante. When I finally managed to look up, I was staring right into the face of Queen Yva, her wispy curls coming loose from her bun and concern written all over her expression.

"Are you sure you're in any condition to be here?" the Queen asked gently, trying to support me a little as she checked me over for injuries. This close, I could see her pointed vampire fangs when she spoke, and noticed the flecks of dark red in her bright green irises.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "It's important, though."

"Speak," the Queen said quietly, patting my shoulder. Then, she turned to Dante and pointed off to the side, gesturing for him to get me a chair.

"Oh, that's okay," I began, trying to wave her off. "I'll be f—"

And then I wobbled, and she just glared at me. Queen or not, a mother is always a mother, I suppose. I stopped fighting and settled myself on the chair that Dante brought. It was probably too late for me to recover any dignity whatsoever, so it was best we all move on with the program. The Council members quite understandably didn't seem pleased at the interruption, but they'd just have to deal with it.

The problem was how to start off a little more gently than "The Moon Goddess told my past incarnation all about the beginnings of magic and it's all going to die if we don't convince some Sylvans to have babies with humans or witches or both pretty soon."

Even I could admit that didn't sound great.

"What was the... urgency?" the King asked carefully.

"Magic is going to fade if we don't integrate, isn't it?" I blurted, and then immediately winced. This wasn't the first time that my lack of a brain-to-mouth filter got in the way and I'd unintentionally said something I'd only meant to think, and it wouldn't be the last, but it was certainly one of the most inconvenient moments.

Well, so much for gentle. It certainly didn't sound as crazy as past life dreams did, but it definitely wasn't the smooth approach I'd wanted.

"It's a genetic issue. It's dying out, and there won't be any more Sylvans in a few generations if we don't do something. Am I right?"

The room went dead silent. I wasn't sure how quickly Sylvans began to sweat, but it looked like the entire Council might start at any moment. No one wanted to speak, not even the King and Queen.

"That's why Dante is so strong," I continued. "He has human, vampire, and fae ancestry."

"Well, we..." the man stuttered. "We have no proven reports—"

"Right, sure," I scoffed. "I don't support what Calen is doing in order to grab at power," I said, "but he isn't entirely wrong."

"Calen? The man you brought with you to see the Council?"

I winced.

"Yeah... that was my bad," I muttered. "I really shouldn't have trusted him. He's a bigger danger than we thought."

"A human man?"

"The Hourglass. Not human, though. I don't... really know what he is anymore," I admitted, a horrible shudder and a wave of nausea rolling through me. Whatever he'd become over the last several centuries, Calen definitely wasn't human.

"Dante informed me of the Hourglass's identity, yes," the King said, eyes narrowing. "If you have a point, please make it quickly."

Right. Right. We could talk about the Hourglass later.

Dante gently patted my shoulder, and I looked up at him, nodding in a way that I hoped was reassuring. I was actually glad he'd saved me the trouble of explaining, at least to the King and Queen. A part of me was surprised that Dante hadn't mentioned he reported it, but I honestly didn't care. It wasn't a secret. I would have told the Council, anyways. I would tell anyone who would listen. Calen was a monster, and I wanted everyone to know.

Right now, though, I needed to focus on the imminent death of all the magic in the known universe.

"From a scientific standpoint, varying the gene pool makes future generations stronger. If we keep recycling the old genes among only Sylvans or only witches, that magic will fade and die," I said. "That's the real reason why Ataraxia was given that gift, isn't it? She was supposed to take magic to humans so that it could live on because Sylvans weren't intermingling with them to share magic on their own. They weren't even having kids with other Sylvan species."

"N—none of us were there..." one of the Council members said softly, wincing.

"Lucky that some part of me was, isn't it?" I snapped, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. If they wanted to challenge me, they could. I would win, in the end.

The only annoying part was that someone in the room clearly knew I was right, or at least they had an inkling that I might be. What I was saying wasn't illogical. In fact, it made so much sense that the Council was clearly uneasy, meaning I'd probably hit a nerve.

Time to keep poking it with a stick.

I waited for a response, but before any of the Council members could gather their wits enough to speak, the King broke the silence himself.

"Dante," Balmir finally said, waving his hand to cut off the Council. "I need to know if you trust her."

I blinked, all my guard suddenly down at the unexpected question.

The King spoke quietly, but that was part of his power. He didn't need to speak loudly to command the attention of a room. The entire panel of Council members looked up towards him, waiting patiently for his decision, though a few hesitantly glanced towards Dante.

Dante frowned, but he stepped forward. "Why me?"

"You've been around her more than any of us. You know her character, and I trust your decision," he said. "I defer to you."

I wasn't sure what this meant. My hackles rose just a little, mostly because it could very much be a test for Dante rather than me. I knew he trusted me— or I hoped he did, at least. I didn't want him to put himself in danger for the sake of that trust, though.

"I do," Dante said, nodding. "I think she wants the best for the future of us all."

He didn't even look at me as he spoke, which I thought was an effort to maintain a degree of professionalism, but it still made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"Trust or no, we can't base decisions on unproven visions," one of the Council members said. I could vaguely read the name plate in front of her as "Reflan."

"Can you base them on science and census numbers, though?" I pressed. "Because I'm right about varying the gene pool. That's been proven many, many times by pure scientific research. I'm also willing to bet that you've got records of all the past Sylvan marriages out there, and that the vast majority of them are within the same species. Want me to go check the library?"

"You don't have clearance to look," the man from before spat through pointed vampire fangs.

"I do," Dante said, stepping forward, "and I'm perfectly willing to look. In fact, I'm quite interested in what those numbers might indicate. Aren't you, Councilor Hadrick?"

Ah. That's what his name was. I'd have to remember Councilor Hadrick's unpleasant demeanor for the future, just in case I ever had to lobby my way through the Council again. You know, assuming we all lived through this situation to argue another day.

"Magic is dying," I said. "Not only is it actively dying at this moment, but Calen is going to absolutely ensure it dies out if he manages to take over Sylvan lands like he wants. Witches and Sylvans both will grow weaker by the generation until it dies out entirely if we don't try to form some kind of alliance."

Balmir nodded slowly, but was silent for a long moment. He looked towards the Queen pointedly, and I wondered if they shared some sort of telepathic bond. It wasn't uncommon for vampires to communicate telepathically, and I'd certainly seen their fangs only a few minutes earlier.

"What do you suggest?" the Queen asked carefully.

"I suggest that we start treating each other like real people," I said wearily. "I suggest we re-open travel through the Veil and allow both witches and Sylvans to live on either side they choose."

The Council looked... deeply uncomfortable, to say the least. It was clear they didn't like the idea of letting witches onto their side of the Veil. There was some deep, deep irony about that considering what I'd learned about the creation of the Veil in the first place, but I didn't really feel like getting into it at the moment. The King and Queen were a little more neutral, though by now I could swear they were using some sort of telepathic communication.

Fine. If no one else spoke, I'd just keep going.

"Do you want magic to die? I don't!" I cried, shrugging and laughing humorlessly. "I'm not going to force people to make babies, but clearly we have limited options, and all of them involve every single one of us getting over ourselves long enough to work towards a better big picture."

I paused, forcing myself to take a deep, slow breath.

"... After we take out the Hourglass," I amended. "That part is important."

Like it or not, brokering peace had to play second fiddle for the moment. The more important part of my agenda was what to do about Calen, and at this point... I really didn't know what the solution might be. We were, effectively, running on borrowed time at this point. It was lucky that Calen hadn't rewound yet.

"How do you suggest we.... 'take him out,' as you put it?" the Queen asked, leaning forward slightly.

"I'm... not sure yet," I admitted, cheeks flushing. "I'm working on it."

Another long silence. The Council knew I was right, and they didn't like it, but the Hourglass needed to go. That was the one goal we most certainly had in common at the moment, and apparently that was enough.

"Well, there's always witch burnings," Hadrick finally said. "Or we could trap him where the holes in the Veil keep showing up."

"If we know his location, we could simply overwhelm his forces," a woman with a plate in front of her that read "Ifvenar" suggested.

"You have to account for—" I tried, but Hadrick chimed in again.

"We could send an assassin. It would be the simplest solution, by far."

"Surely he's prepared for that," another Council member said.

"He can just rewind—" but my voice wasn't even loud enough to be heard in the growing cacophony.

I glanced at the Queen a little helplessly. She smiled wryly, her eyes briefly flicking towards the door to the Council chambers. That was a cue I could understand even without telepathy on my side. It was time to make an exit while we could.

I pushed myself to my feet, legs slightly less wobbly than before, and turned away from the group of clamoring Sylvans.

"Come on," I said, grabbing Dante's hand as I inclined my head towards the door.

"To where?"

"To make an actual plan," I grumbled.

If the Council wouldn't do anything to help beyond preparing for a war they would inevitably loose, we'd just have to do it ourselves. We had precious little time before Calen gathered his strength and inevitably prepared to attack. It would be stupid to waste it.