[b]Adila![/b]

Strictly speaking, there’s nothing in the rules that says you can’t be a racer, as long as you don’t touch the ground. And that’s not a problem, given your whole wing situation.

Demon Gulch is one of the Bazaar’s more dangerous tourist attractions, a swelteringly hot crevasse dug into the earth for over a mile. It goes deep. Nobody knows exactly how deep. The Bazaar being what it is, there are a bunch of speciality saunas built on either side, heated entirely by the gulch.

The Gulch Race is an officially unofficial race. Racers, with specialized gliders, launch from the clock tower and try to make it down to the belches of hot air rising from the gulch. It’s thrilling and so, so dangerous. Sure, there are carpets on standby to save anyone who falls in, but every year there’s always at least one contestant who ends up looking like a lobster by the end.

It even makes a little thrill of excitement run up your spine when you get too close, making you wonder if there might be something in this world that burns like a dragon’s flame.

Officially, you’re off-duty and stretching your wings. Unofficially, you are allowed— encouraged, even— to bring down as many gliders as you can before you hit the gulch, and then floor it and get to the finish line on the beach as soon as you can.

How you feeling, hotshot?

***

[b]Alina![/b]

“I know you will.”

There is still some unyielding crystal inside your mother, Alina. Just like Argossa spreads its roots all throughout this world, so your mother has in her soul an unbreakable faith, and her faith is this: she has the honor of loving the most special princesses in the whole wide world.

When she fought Oberon, bereft of her Gold, she knew that one day you would come back for it. When she refused to break, it was because she believed in you. You and Jess and Free, working together, each one playing their part...

Who on Hyperborea could even hope to stop you?

Your mother wipes away your tears carefully, making soft and soothing sounds, like you were a little girl again needing to be comforted. She has her three wonderful daughters holding her; she is strong enough for this. She is tired, and the shadow of the ice is heavy on her heart, but she loves you. She [i]loves[/i] you. That is enough.

“I am willing to... to [i]lend[/i] you Gold again,” she says, carefully. She won’t be selfish. She won’t force you into the crown. It’s just a loan if that’s what you want, little Lina. “You will need its help when you fight him again.”

There’s no fear. Her voice does not tremble. When you see yourself reflected in her eyes, for a moment, it’s hard to recognize yourself. Rita may have grown on this trip, but she’s not the only one. You’re so silly, Lina. You can see how Jess and Free grew, but not yourself?

The next time you meet Oberon, he’d better have his running boots on. Because you’re going to beat him.

Jess puts her hand on yours, and Free puts her hand on Jess’s. They’re willing to help you with the magic again. More than willing, even. Eager. Ready to give as much as they can to help.

And when you come back... you’ll have thought of something. Figured out how to properly heal your mother’s heart. You will. You have to.

What does it feel like to pour your magic into your mother? Is it like wrapping up someone who got caught outside all night in a warm blanket? Is it like pouring hot water on ice, like when all those brave lava sharks thawed the castle basement? Or is it like the warmest hug in the whole wide world?

***

[b]Kazelia![/b]

The little girl stumbles into you without even an invitation. You are observed. You are drawn forth, the shadow cast by the light, surging forth full of hunger without a name and an urge to find the Truth.

No one ever has much Truth inside them. They are pale, faking things, assemblies of their environments and connections and memories and when you pluck them out of that context, there is nothing left at the bottom. You are so good at explaining this.

That girl is you. You remember being here. But that’s not where you are now. That’s the you that was, but that’s not the you who is, to put another way.

There are stars falling in her eyes. There are always stars falling here, into the waters on the deep, where they shine to fall again.

She’s jealous, isn’t she? Jealousy of things that aren’t True is a false emotion. But you will let her make a defense, anyway. It’s only fair before you disassemble her and show her all the false parts inside her. Maybe she will even be interesting, and make this disruption of your innocence of your loneliness fleetingly worthwhile.

How do you invite the observer of false reality inside yourself, Mother? And how disorienting is it to lose yourself in the role of another, Kazelia?