“Well, it might be enough for you,” a voice rasps from the shadows of the forest, “but it’s not enough for me.”

Laia and I both stare for long moments at the figure that emerges from the shadows, small and white-haired, with ocean-blue eyes that are hard as agate, but that soften at the sight of her daughter.

“How—” Laia finally manages to choke out. “The Karkauns—”

“Didn’t bother checking my body,” Mirra of Serra says. “And I touched the Star, remember? We’re tough to kill.”

“But why did you not come to me?” Laia says. “Why would you not try to find me?”

“Because revenge mattered to me more than you,” Mirra says. Laia, stunned, steps back. “I was never a good m-m-mother, girl. You know that. I knew no one would have a shot against the Bitch of Blackcliff unless she wasn’t expecting them. Her spies told her I was dead. So I stayed dead. The only ones who knew I lived were Harper, who gave me a place to sleep in Antium, and the Blood Shrike.”

At the outrage on Laia’s face, Mirra holds up her hand. “Don’t go getting angry at her now,” she says. “Helped her in the tunnels of Antium, but she didn’t know it was me. She didn’t know I was alive until the night before the battle. After I’d had a little chat with Karinna.”

“I didn’t sense you—” I begin, and Mirra laughs.

“There were thousands of humans in this forest, boy,” she says. “What was one more? I could trust Harper to keep his thoughts to himself. Had a mind like a steel trap, that boy did. As for the Shrike, I ordered her to keep her mouth shut—to not even think my name, lest the Nightbringer pick it out of her head.”

“I believe your exact phrasing was ‘If you breathe a word of this to anyone, girl, I’ll gut you first, then wear your skin as a cape.’”

The Blood Shrike appears behind us. “I’m sorry.” She looks worriedly at Laia, as if expecting her anger. “It was the only way to kill Keris.”

Laia throws herself at her mother, who rocks back, surprised, before lifting her hands and holding her daughter close.

“I’m not alone.” Laia buries her face in her mother’s hair. “I thought I was all that was left of us.”

My eyes get hot, and the Blood Shrike looks away, rubbing her hand against her cheeks and muttering about mud in her lashes.

“You’re not alone,” Mirra says, and her voice is gentler now. “And if I have anything to do with it, you never will be again.” She detaches herself from Laia and turns to me.

“Soul Catcher. Can you call your master?”

“Call?” I say. “Mauth?” I should stop using single syllables. The mother of the woman I love probably thinks I’m dim.

“Yes.” Mirra speaks slowly. “The jinn queen mentioned a certain vow you made to Mauth.”

“You knew Rehmat?” Laia says.

“A moment, cricket.” Mirra holds up a hand, gaze fixed on me. “Rehmat told me of the vow. Something about serving Mauth for all eternity. I’d like to speak with him about it. Call him.”

Mauth? I reach out with my mind, and when there is no answer, I shake my head. Mirra snarls with such force that Laia, the Shrike, and I all flinch.

“Don’t you ignore me, you pretentious brute,” Mirra says to the forest. “I’ve walked the edge of your realm more times that I can count. I’ve stared into the Sea. You told the boy he will not be free of his vow until a human takes his place. Well, here I am. Ready to take over. And you don’t even have to bring me back to life.”

A long silence, and then Mauth’s ancient rumble. Do you know what it is you ask for, Lioness?

Laia looks between Mirra and me, for she cannot hear Mauth. But before I can explain, Mirra answers.

“A few months of training from my future son-in-law—” She shoves me in the chest, and I nearly choke. Laia’s cheeks turn red, and the Blood Shrike smiles for the first time in an age.

“The occasional argument with our fiery friends down in the Sher Jinnaat. A lot of excellent Tribal food, since I’ll be their Bani al-Mauth. And an eternity in this forest, passing on ghosts to the other side.”

“Wait,” Laia says frantically. “Just a moment. You cannot—”

“You want me in the world of the living instead?” Mirra asks. “Weighing it down with my hate? I killed Keris Veturia. Slid a dagger through her throat and watched her die. But all I dream about is raising her from the dead so I can do it again.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I am haunted, girl. By your f-f-father’s eyes. Your sis-sister’s voice. Dar—dar—” The Lioness shudders. “Your b-brother’s laugh,” she finally says. “I do not belong among the living. To be a Soul Catcher is to feel remorse, the jinn queen said. I am made of it. Let me go. Let me do some good.”

Lioness. Mauth speaks before Laia can. Will you, like the Banu al-Mauth, seek to hold to who you were? Or will you release your past, so that you might pass the ghosts more easily?

“Just free the boy, Mauth. I’ll do whatever you bleeding want.” Mirra considers. “Except forget her.” She nods to Laia.

You are her mother, Lioness. No power in the universe could wrest her from your heart. She is of you. Very well. Mirra of Serra, kinslayer and Lioness, hear me. To serve the Waiting Place is to light the way for the weak, the weary, the fallen, and the forgotten in the darkness that follows death. You will be bound to me until another is worthy enough to release you. Do you submit?

I notice that he does not threaten to punish Mirra for leaving the forest. Nor does he call her the ruler of the Waiting Place, as he did me.

Perhaps she won’t be bound for an eternity after all.

“I submit,” Mirra says.

Her vow is unlike mine, for Mauth does not need to bring her back to life. Still, her body goes rigid, and I know what she feels—the power of Mauth passing into her as he gives her a touch of magic that he can never take away.

A moment later, the Lioness shakes herself and turns to me.

“Right, then,” she says. “You best start telling me what I need to know. And since you won’t be Soul Catcher for much longer, don’t mind me if call you Elias.”

“The Mother watches over them all,” I say. Cain and his bleeding prophecy. “I thought the Augur was talking about the Commandant. But it was you. You’re the Mother.”

“That I am, Elias.” The Lioness takes her daughter’s fingers in one hand and mine in the other. “That I am.”