Zara woke in a place without sky.
Millions of names floated around her like stars.
Some whispered.
Others cried.
There was no ground beneath her feet, but she could smell roses.
Portrait of a Lady had followed her.
Not from her body.
From something deeper.
Adisa stood at the edge of a black river.
Zara could not see his face clearly.
But Gris Charnel reached her across the water.
Fig.
Black tea.
Warm wood.
She followed it.
The Hollow One waited across the river.
It had no face.
Only a mouth.
Leave him. Take his power. Become complete.
Zara stepped into the water.
Hands rose from beneath the surface and caught her ankles.
Each hand carried the scent of a stolen life—soap, smoke, oil, flowers, skin.
Adisa looked at her.
“You should go back.”
“Not without you.”
“One of us must stay.”
“That prophecy was written by people who did not understand us.”
The Hollow One rose from the river.
It showed Zara a world with no war.
No hunger.
No grief.
Every person followed one perfect path.
No one was free.
The false world smelled of nothing.
No perfume.
No memory.
No individual life.
Adisa looked at it.
“This is what Taiwo wants.”
“No,” Zara said. “This is what fear wants.”
The Hollow One screamed!
The river rose around her.
Zara followed Gris Charnel through the darkness until she reached Adisa.
“You lied to me.”
“I know.”
“You almost died.”
“I know.”
“I am still angry.”
“I know.”
Portrait of a Lady rose between them.
Gris Charnel answered.
She kissed him.
The kiss carried fear, rage, love and forgiveness.
Their scents joined.
Rose and fig.
Incense and black tea.
Amber, sandalwood and smoke.
The river caught fire!
The Hollow One pulled back.
Adisa held Zara’s face.
“You cannot carry both of us.”
“Then hold on.”
She pressed Portrait of a Lady against the place where his heart should have been.
Gris Charnel returned around him.
Zara called his spirit back into his body.
They woke in the chamber together.
Adisa gasped!
The first thing Zara smelled was Gris Charnel.
Weak.
But alive.
She laughed once—in relief.
Then she reached for her power.
Nothing answered.
Portrait of a Lady remained on her skin, but it smelled ordinary.
Beautiful.
Deep.
Silent.
Adisa watched her face.
“What is wrong?”
“My power is gone.”