She opened her mind to it, searched for the binding, and found it in the roots of the massive trees themselves. She tugged at it with her mental fingers, pulling and coaxing, until the world went white—

They were gathered near the edge of the cliff, a semicircle of two dozen mages. The air was already thick around them, like inhaling soup, but it still crackled. That was what came of bringing so many mages together, having them all hold their magic carefully, keeping it at the ready. If they’d done everything right, the clouds would burst with torrential rain the moment the binding was sealed, and over the next few weeks, rain would fill the basin below entirely. There was some water in the basin already—they’d built it on top of a natural oasis—but there would be so much more, and the magic would make sure the water would last forever.

Tandan’s mother stood nearest to the edge of the cliff, her back to the Well she’d spent so many years preparing and crafting. It was the largest work of magic ever—well, no. Tandan cast a look past his mother and toward what would be the distant shore of the Well. The mountains back there had been the biggest work of magic in history, and the biggest mistake. But the Well his mother had masterminded wouldn’t be like that. It would protect and heal, not destroy, and it would keep their land safe forever.

“It’s time,” she said, taking out her knife. The knife was ceremonial, passed down through the mages in her family since before they had come to this land, imbued with power from everyone who’d used it.

Tandan winced as she drew the blade from her wrist almost up to her elbow. The magic around them soared, sensing the binding she’d already built into her blood. Now she only had to share that blood with the others, to bind all the mages’ bloodlines together, and then to bind those joined bloodlines to the Well. It was a complicated plan, with layers upon layers of magic worked in, but in a few minutes, it would all be done.

The mage who stood next to her stepped forward. Janna handed him the knife, and he mimicked her gesture, cutting his arm. Not as deeply, but enough to bleed. They pressed their arms together, blood to blood, and the mage kissed Tandan’s mother’s cheek and murmured a soft goodbye.

She only smiled at him, serene despite any pain from the cut, and passed the knife to the next mage. They took it one after another, cutting themselves and sharing their blood, linking their families’ bloodlines together. Finally she offered the knife to Tandan himself.

She didn’t need to. They already carried the same blood, just like his children did, and their children would. But he’d helped craft the Well, too, and contributing to the binding was an honor.

Clouds roiled overhead as he sliced his arm. It did hurt, but that pain was nothing next to the enormity of what they’d done—and the loss he still wasn’t entirely prepared for.

His sorrow must have shown on his face, because his mother said, “No, none of that. No crying.”

He wiped at his cheeks. The air was so thick and hot that it was hard to tell water from sweat from tears.

“This is no time to be sad; it’s a time to celebrate,” she continued, loud enough for all the gathered mages to hear. “Look at what we’ve built. Our families will live safely forever. That is what we’ve done here. And I will give myself to the Well gladly to make sure that happens.”

Tandan nodded, finally letting her go, and she pressed the knife into his hand. “You should keep this. Pass it down to one of the twins.”

“I will,” he promised, and slid it into his belt. Then he stepped back, her gaze still on him.

She smiled one last time and said, “I love you.” Then she looked up at all of them, casting a last glance at every mage she’d brought together to help her. The Well with its linked reservoirs and aqueducts was too enormous an undertaking for any one or two mages to craft alone, so she’d built this alliance, ignored the mages who’d thought it was foolish or dangerous, and simply done what needed to be done.

As she would now. But this last part she had to do alone.

“Thank you,” she said, and raised the hand above her bloody arm in something that was part wave, part salute.

She turned and looked down at where the wind hammered waves up against the cliff. Then she threw herself forward in an inelegant dive. Tandan held his breath, the magic around them surged and crackled, and then—

It started to rain.

The binding was complete. The Well had been sealed, his mother’s life providing the energy the binding needed, linking the Well to the Bloodlines forevermore.

Jae startled out of the vision and stumbled back several steps, colliding with Tal. He jumped to catch her, even as she turned to face him.

“I know how they did it,” she said, her voice scratchy. “I know how to restore the binding, but…”

She shook her head, choked. She would do it. She had to do it. She could still save the Closest at Aredann—if they even still lived. She could buy the time they’d need to find and destroy the knife that bound the Curse. Tal wouldn’t be able to do that, she doubted any Closest could, but Elan might be able to. She had to hope he could.

She turned to stare at him, and he stepped back, startled. “Jae, I don’t understand. What—” He cleared his throat. “I don’t understand what just happened, why you look so…wild.”

“The only way to restore the Well’s binding is a sacrifice,” she said. “If we’re going save Aredann before the Well goes dry, then I…I need to give my life to the Well.”

Elan stared at Jae in horror. He barely had time to understand what she said before she was continuing, “It should be easy enough for you to get back to Aredann. When the binding is restored, it will rain. I’m sure of it. You’ll be all right in the desert this time. Just walk toward the sunrise each morning.”

“Jae—” Tal started, but she ignored him.

“You’ll have to find the knife,” she said to Elan. “Tal can stay at Aredann—he’ll be safe there, once there’s water. But the moment he’s around other people, it’ll be too obvious he’s cursed, so you’ll have to do that. I don’t know where the knife is, but”—she pointed at the mosaic—“it’s that one, there. The Highest have it somewhere, and you must find it, and destroy it. Break it, melt it down—any way you can—”