"Instead of killing Asher… you're going to let us all starve down here!"
Those words hurt.
They really did.
I've been replaying them in my head for days now, over and over, without pause.
And I keep asking myself the same question.
What am I supposed to do?
I honestly don't know.
My friends are right.
Painfully right.
Either Asher… or them.
But how can I decide to kill—
Asher?
Or stand here, doing nothing, while Milly, Beagy, Maya, Yosho, Bumbling, Làidir, and all the others slowly die… because of me?
They're sleeping now.
All of them.
I'm exhausted too, beyond words, but I can't rest. I just can't.
This weight inside me won't let go.
I watch them.
Beagy and Milly are curled up together, arms wrapped tight.
Their little faces are still streaked with dried tears.
It took me so long to get them to fall asleep.
They were hungry…
They still are.
And cold.
They miss their mother. Their father. Their little bedroom.
If it weren't for Làidir—if he hadn't helped me soothe them, and wrapped them in his cloak to keep them warm…
They're scared.
All of them are.
So am I.
Terrified.
Not of dying.
But of forcing them to die for me.
For me… and for Asher.
Gready's supplies ran out four days ago—if my counting is right.
They're all so thin now. Weak. Pale.
Their faces are so hollow they look like tiny, living skeletons.
We've talked. A lot.
And not one of them wants to sacrifice Asher to save themselves.
Only Donny kept pushing. Again and again. Pressing harder, trying to convince us all.
But in the end, even Assho shut him down.
And when his own best friend stood that firm—unmovable—
even Donny gave up.
Something happened yesterday. Something I can't shake.
I was rocking Milly in my arms when Fealsy crouched down beside me.
He placed a hand on my shoulder, looked straight into my eyes, and said,
"We'll make it, Meg. You'll save us all. Asher too. I know you will."
It only lasted a moment.
But his words… they steadied me.
Maybe he's right.
Maybe I can do it.
Save all of us.
Including Asher.
But how, damn it? How?
The truth is—I'm losing hope.
I've read and reread the Book of the Dynasty more times than I can count, searching for a way out.
For an answer.
But there's nothing.
Nothing at all.
And then… seeing them like this…
It's not just how thin they've become.
Their nails are turning purple. Their fingertips are shriveled.
They shiver constantly, their voices trembling, almost stuttering, their breaths short and strained.
Even their skin looks dull now.
Grayer. More lifeless with every passing day.
These extraordinary gnomes are sacrificing themselves for me…
and they won't last much longer.
"Cough, cough… Hck, hck!"
I spin around.
Maya can't stop coughing.
She's caught a severe pneumonia.
Yosho stretches out an arm and pulls her close, holding her tight, trying to warm her with his own body.
I sit down nearby, watching carefully, careful not to intrude.
She's ice-cold. Her teeth are chattering. Her cheeks are flushed—
she must have a high fever.
She looks unconscious.
I see her rest her head against Yosho's shoulder.
He tightens his embrace, gently stroking her damp hair with a tenderness I've never seen before.
His face is tight with fear.
And he's right to be afraid.
Without magic—without medicine, food, and warmth—
she won't survive.
What am I doing?
They love each other so deeply…
and I'm about to drag that love straight into the grave.
No.
I can't watch Maya like this.
I can't be the reason for their pain.
I clench my fists.
Gather what little strength I have left.
And I stand.
I know now.
I know what I have to do.
-----
That poorrr boy…
He's completely lost.
He hasn't eaten in at least two days now.
His gaze is empty.
Always wet with tearrrs.
The sound of crushed leaves.
I turn.
Queen Bànrrrion and King Ciallmhar stand before us.
They look worn down.
If the King werrren't so pale, he might almost seem calm.
Almost.
The Queen, though…
She's gaunt.
Dark cirrrcles ring her eyes.
From what I know, they've spent days trying to reassurrre the parents of Majory's friends.
Yesterday, one of the fathers tried to stab the King.
If the guarrrds hadn't intervened, it would have ended in tragedy.
Queen Bànrrrion steps closer.
Quickly.
Then she stops, right in front of us. Hesitant.
"Well?" she asks.
The boy shakes his head, defeated.
"No news."
Asher is at his limit.
I see it.
We all do.
The days rush past, seasons shifting with unnaturrral speed…
and nothing happens.
Since we returned, he hasn't listened to a single worrrd from Fheall. Not once.
He's thought of everything to save Majorrry.
Everything.
He even decided to break through the outer walls of the underground chambers.
Dorrrcha tried to stop him.
"When a place is cursed like those walls," he told him, "it cannot be destroyed. If you tried, you'd find no one—neither Majory nor your friends. It's as if they exist in another dimension. Any attempt to tear those walls down would pass straight through them. Useless effort."
It didn't matterrr.
That day, Asher looked possessed.
He went back to his house…
then returned arrrmed with pickaxes.
And he attacked the walls.
He stayed there.
Hammering day and night.
For days.
And nights.
With no result.
He hacked at the stone and scrrreamed.
He hacked at the stone and crrried.
He shouted the girl's name—desperate.
A hoarse cry.
One that still echoes in my head.
Then he strrruck again.
And finally… silence.
At first, Aileen and Dorcha tried to stop him.
So did I.
Then we let him be.
Sometimes he still goes back there.
Even though he knows now it won't change anything.
But it's the only way he knows how to let the pain out.
"There's no food down there…" King Ciallmhar says, more to himself than to us.
"How much longer can they hold on?"
The Queen brrreaks down, turning on him with fire in her eyes.
"This is all your fault! Yours! Yours and your ridiculous, foolish, useless family!" she screams at him.
He…
I pity him.
It's clear he doesn't know how to answerrr.
He's devastated too.
"Do you remember what happened to the Majory of the prophecy, don't you? … Don't you?!" she goes on.
He nods slowly.
Eyes lowerrred.
"They found her a hundred years later! A skeleton! Drowned in the only fountain down there! A skeleton, do you understand? A skeleton! My child… my child!"
The King tries to embrrrace the Queen.
Ouch.
That hurts to watch.
She slaps him so hard that the imprrrint of her fingers blooms across his face.
Aileen steps between them.
Calm.
Unshaken.
"Your Majesties, forgive me for speaking so plainly, but blaming each other won't help. As the Witch Fheall herself told us, Majory is very different from her ancestor. She will make the right choice. We don't know when she'll accept the challenge and open the underground gates—but she will. And when she does, we'll help her. Right, everyone?"
"Ready," Asher snaps.
"Of courrrse," I say.
"Obviously," Dorcha adds.
"Ihhhhihihihihhh," Hercules and Raertha neigh together, rearing onto their hind legs.
"Groarrr!"
My dear Sidae roarrrs proudly, tossing his magnificent, thick white mane in a regal motion.
The King and Queen look at us.
Both of their eyes are filled with tearrrs.
"Go and rest now," Aileen says gently. "We'll bring your daughter back to you. Safe and sound. I promise."
The Queen turrrns toward her husband.
She looks embarrassed. Ashamed.
Unsure of what to do after the slap.
He spares her the moment—wrapping his arms arrround her shoulders.
She leans into him.
They give us a silent nod of farrrewell and, with heavy hearts, return to the castle.
-----
I feel… hollowed out.
Drained.
And yet, at the same time, I've never been more certain of the choice I've made.
I take advantage of the deep, fragile silence of my friends' sleep.
I rise.
Alone, I stand before the Book of the Dynasty.
I open it to the pages of the prophecy and commit the dangerous words of the ritual to memory.
…
I'm done.
It's time.
I close my eyes.
Draw in a deep breath.
I lower my head, chin to chest.
Cross my arms.
Then I lift them toward the sky and begin to spin—fast, light—until the world around me dissolves into a vortex.
As I turn, the words spill from my lips.
At first, barely a whisper.
Then louder.
And louder still.
My voice vibrates, quickens, rises—
carried by a growing force I can no longer hold back.
«I, Majory Mcyea,
do stand prepared to seal the fate laid upon my soul.
For Love, and Love alone,
I do beseech that these enchanted walls
by mine own will be rent asunder;
for Love, and Love alone,
I do lay claim that all my friends
unto those they hold most dear may safely return;
for Love, and Love alone,
I summon hither Asher McConley,
that I may look once more into his eyes.
And though my heart be bound to love him evermore,
against that very heart I shall rise,
and with these hands of mine
I do consent to grant his death.»
I repeat the words three times.
And with each repetition, something inside me breaks.
The more I speak them, the more I understand them.
The deeper they sink into me.
The tighter the knot in my chest grows, until my eyes burn and sting.
A warm, blinding light wraps around me.
My friends wake up.
They stare at me, terrified.
Some of them rush toward me, trying to stop me.
The light holds them back.
It has to be a barrier.
They're shouting.
But I can't hear a single word.
And then—suddenly—they're gone.
Gone.
Good.
Maybe now…
maybe now they've made it home.
-----
"We've got it. The energy just shifted," I say.
I can feel it—
sharp and unmistakable.
There's no way I'm wrong.
Urchoicha trained me too well to miss something like this.
"Hands. Everyone—now. Asher, here."
Asher runs to me and grabs my hand.
Aileen takes my other one, reaching out to clasp Grogher's.
Still mounted on Sidae, he grabs Raertha's mane and hooks Hercules closer with one leg.
One heartbeat.
Asher is yanked away.
Bound to him, we're pulled after—
dragged straight into Majory's enchanted dimension.
And now…