HERWERDE WAS STILL IN there, somewhere. Every village he terrorized, every poor child whose mother he executed, every soul whose pockets he emptied of change caused his heart to break a little more, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was a prisoner of his own flesh, his body a slave to a master he didn't know. There was nothing he could do, and it ached every time he deprived the world of another innocent life because he could not control his own blade.

Whenever Connor figured out where Kristofer was, Herwerde tried to fight. "You know how to raise a sword," he'd tell himself. And it never worked, because every time his foolish mouth would tell the King the best way to reach them, the quickest paths to take. There was no way to save the boy he loved like a son from danger anymore. Maybe he should've left sooner, but it was too late.

He was too late.

It felt all too easy now. His body had a mind of its own as he alone took down a small crowd, leaving no one but an old woman wearing nothing but rags, weeping in fear before Connor's feet.

"You know the way to the skyline," said the King, holding up a rough sketch. Ever since he figured out how to watch Kit, Herwerde hasn't been able to sleep. He laid awake every night, praying to every God he knew that the prince would stay as far away as he could.

The woman cried out when Conan pulled her arm back further against her back. "I don't! I've never seen it before, I swear it!"

"Herwerde," Connor growled, and his heart sunk. "Is she lying?"

He didn't know how he could tell such a thing, and he prayed he had his own will. Then he'd avoid the truth, tell him she wasn't lying, that she didn't know where the Grail was. But he knew Connor. He'd kill her if she was telling the truth. If she lead the way, maybe she would be spared, but Kit and his friends would not. Was one old woman worth it?

His body seemed to think so, because as it always did, his lips betrayed him. "She's lying," he said. "She knows the way, so you better not kill her for treason just yet. She can take us to Kristofer."

* * *

Selene's stamina never failed to impress Morgana. She and Kit were built of steel and stone, and no amount of stab wounds or dehydration or exhaustion could get them to stop. For God's sake, Kit had to pass out from a loss of blood in order to stop pushing his own limits. And for the first time, it seems, he'd reached that limit.

They were traveling through tall, windy mountains now, covered in clusters white trees and strong-smelling plants crawling with insects. Selene never had to stop and rest her arms, she held Giselle the entire time and refused to let go. He supposed it wasn't that shocking considering how long she could carry Kit through the sand, and he weighed as much as a cow. Giselle was so small and light, even he could carry her at his worst. It must've been the same as carrying a cat to someone as strong as Selene.

It was hard not to fuss over the Seelie. He didn't want to think about why Giselle was tired, he didn't want to get any ideas. She hadn't cried yet, she wasn't sweating. If she was sick, they'd know. She was just tired. No need for a remedy.

They traveled long into the night, until they reached a range of cold peaks surrounded by thick forests. Chalice and Eurion assured them they were close, that they would reach it by the next nightfall if they traveled fast. Morgana could hardly sleep, though, even despite his exhaustion.

Giselle was already asleep when Selene laid her down on the ground against a tree. The Lady didn't leave her side, but Morgana still worried. As long as he wasn't watching her, she was in danger.

They needed that Grail.

A familiar warm figure settled next to him, inches away from him but still close enough to feel. "She'll be okay."

Morgana looked up at him, then back at his hands in his lap. "I hope you're right. She's fragile, Kit, I can't stand the idea of anything happening to her."

"We're close to the Grail," Kit assured. "And we still have a few remedies. You've only used one. She's going to be okay, I promise."

He was quiet.

The prince slid his callused hand over Morgana's thigh, catching his attention. "How about you?"

He quirked a brow. "Me?"

"How are you?" Kit's eyes searched him, and it made Morgana curl into himself. "You've been walking this far nonstop. Do you need help?"

He was offering his strength. Morgana still felt guilty for taking it without asking and causing a fuss back at the Capitol, so he didn't feel he deserved to take it now. But Kit insisted, and he didn't know how to tell him no when he looked at him like that.

"Fine." He turned so he was facing him, lifting up his only hand, letting Kit take it into his own. "Only a little. Just enough to get us to the Grail."

"I have a lot, Morgana, take what you need. I'll be fine."

"Last time you gave me strength you passed out," he bit, pulling his hand back. "I'm only taking a little because you won't shut up until I do. I know you."

Kit scoffed and took his hand in both of his own, bringing it up to his lips. "I passed out because I was bleeding, I don't know if you remember that part."

Morgana's eyes wandered to his chest, clothed for once in the cold, but he could still see those scratches in his mind. Deep, ugly, angry. "Touché."

With that, he closed his eyes. Kit's warmth was familiar to him now, a sensation that filled him with adrenaline. How he had so much energy, he didn't know. As he filled himself up enough, he still kept his hand in Kit's. He didn't want to let go.

"You stopped," the prince observed.

Morgana leaned sideways against the tree and opened his eyes again. He was startled to find Kit staring at him with a look so intense, he could feel it on his skin. "I told you. I'm only taking a little."

Kit rested their hands on his own chest, and Morgana could feel his racing heart. "You can take more. For free. It's yours, Morgana, please. I'm yours."

Something about those words turned his mind into a battlefield, and the sudden chaos was giving him a headache. His stomach turned and his face burned and he felt the world spinning around him.

Morgana pulled his hand away and rose to his feet, saying nothing else as he walked across their camp, tucking himself into a dark cluster of trees. He needed to be alone, and he didn't know why.

"Did I say something wrong?" It was Kit, standing behind him with the face of a kicked puppy, Morgana was sure.

Kit made him feel confused. Not because of anything he did, but because Morgana didn't know how to feel about him. He didn't know what he was doing to him or why it was working, but he hated it. No one ever made his stomach flip like this, not even Namyra.

"I'm sleeping alone tonight," Morgana told him, fixing him with icy eyes. Kit shied away, and he wanted to feel bad, but he refused to let himself give in to that gorgeous face watching him walk away.

He kept his word and slept by himself next to the fire, curled up in his cloak. Except, he didn't sleep. He watched Giselle, wrapped up in Selene's arms. He counted her breaths, tracked every movement, studied every expression on her face to make sure she was okay.

In the morning, he avoided Kit. He wasn't angry, he was just confused. Thankfully, Kit kept his distance.

"You didn't sleep."

It was Chalice, standing silently several feet away. He turned to them with a raised brow. "You're one to talk," he murmured. "I don't remember the last time I saw you sleep like a normal person."

"Fortunately I'm not a normal person." There was a strange tension in the air between them, and if he didn't know better, he'd say it was his gut telling him to run. But he didn't feel like he was in danger, all he felt was confused.

He scoffed. "You can say that again. But why do you care?"

"You watched Giselle the whole time," they observed. "You love her?"

"Of course I love her." It was the easiest answer he could ever give a person. Morgana didn't do 'love,' it didn't come easy for him, but Giselle managed to break through every wall of his and show him something new. She was good at that, opening his eyes, showing him a better way. "Why?"

Chalice bit their lip and looked across his shoulder. He followed their gaze until it landed on Eurion, and he pursed his lips.

"Oh."

"Do you love her like Selene loves her?" they asked, and Morgana swallowed.

Sometimes, he wondered if he did. He wondered if that's what he wanted but pushed it away because she could never love a man. Perhaps an eternity ago, he could have. Maybe once, he loved her like Selene did, in a way she couldn't reciprocate. If he ever felt that for her, though, it was long gone now.

"No, not like that," he told them. "I love her more deeply than I love anything in the world. But a love like that doesn't have to be romantic."

He fixed his gaze on them. It was becoming clear why they were asking him this. They still felt something for Eurion, and though Morgana never really cared much for Chalice, it gave him hope. If they could remember their past, they would be their strongest ally. They could be the miracle they need, if all else fails.

The druid looked up at him, dark eyes searching. "I loved her," they said. "But I don't remember it."

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what to say to them, how to console them, but to his luck they smiled and nodded and walked away, supposedly satisfied with his answer. If he knew how to help, perhaps he would. Chalice was a mystery, though, one he didn't have the will to uncover.

"Let's get going," Selene called once their camp was cleared. She took Giselle's hand and held her upright as they trudged up the mountain. The Seelie seemed better, thank the Gods, she had a spring in her step again, but Morgana didn't dare look away from her for a second.

As Eurion and Chalice had predicted, they didn't find it until sundown. The skyline was unmistakeable, a strong silhouette against the horizon, only a few hours away. The Grail was within their reach now, and if he focused, he could feel it calling to him.

Their excitement revitalized the tired travelers, and their sore legs carried them along until finally, they reached it.

"We're here," Eurion said with a breath of relief. "We found the Grail, you guys. Follow me."

How she was so quick to scale the mountainside and up towards a small cave, Morgana had no idea, but he had to get Kit and Selene to pull him up to compensate for his useless arm, which took several awkward moments to accomplish.

The cave was dark and damp, covered in cobwebs and abandoned nests and a thick, impossible dark.

"Chalice," Eurion said. "We need a light."

"Huh?" The druid glanced around. "Why are you asking me?"

The thief raised up her palm. "Your hand," she said. "Make it glow. Come on, it's the easiest one. Just... think of your hand lighting up."

Chalice furrowed their brow and held up their hand, wiggling their fingers and focusing as hard as they could. "Light," they whispered. Nothing happened for several moments.

And then it did. Light sparked and flickered and flashed until finally, the druid got it under control, properly illuminating the cave. Eurion searched while Chalice lit the way, trying to find wherever the Grail might be hidden.

The thief froze then, when the exit of the cave was no longer in their sight.

"What's wrong?" asked Selene.

Morgana gulped as he took in Eurion's terrified expression. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, like she was trying to focus. But as time went on, she looked more and more discouraged, until eventually she gave up and looked at her friends.

"I don't feel it anymore," she said regretfully. "It's gone."