The cavern was bright with fairy-light. Children laughed, chasing fireflies. Dain was teaching three of them a clapping game. Seren sat with Old Nerris, helping fold paper flowers.

  Ink and Kith lay together near the stream, Kith's head resting on Ink's back. One of the children cuddled into them.

  And Cocky paced.

  Back and forth. Back and forth. The moss was flattened where he'd been walking for hours.

  Bree and Agnes descended the steps.

  "We need to talk," Bree said quietly.

  Seren looked up. Dain stopped mid-clap.

  They gathered away from the children. Kith lifted her head.

  "Theron was here," Bree said. "Just now. In the Turnip."

  Seren's hand went to Stormdrink.

  "He was asking about you," Agnes said to Seren. "About the dog. About anyone seen with the hyena."

  "What did you tell him?" Dain asked.

  "The truth. That you haven't been in the dining room for two days." Agnes twisted her hands together. "He's stationed a guard at the end of the street now."

  "That’s not good," Seren said flatly.

  "And there's more." Bree looked at Cocky. "The eels brought news. Jorvan's preparing to leave Myr. Gathering ships."

  Cocky's pacing stopped.

  "And he has a king with him," Bree continued. "Eldmere's king, the eels said. But not... you."

  Silence.

  "Another cockatrice?" Dain asked.

  "Maybe he found someone else," Seren said. "Someone willing to play puppet."

  "You don’t think it’s Eldmere’s old king maybe?" Kith said quietly. "What’s his name? Helmut? Maybe Jorvan found him somehow?"

  They all looked at each other.

  "That complicates things," Seren said slowly. "This would have been better if Jorvan didn’t have a king."

  Bree nodded. "Jorvan's moving. And we're stuck here."

  Cocky's talons dug into the moss. "When is Thorn arriving?"

  "I don't know."

  "You sent word three days ago."

  "I know."

  "So when—"

  "I don't KNOW, Cocky." Bree's voice was sharper than she meant it. She softened. "Merren travels. He could be anywhere. The message has to find him first."

  Cocky turned away. Started pacing again.

  "Mate," Dain started, stepping forward. "We're gonna figure this out—"

  "How?" Cocky didn't stop moving. "Jorvan's leaving. He has a king with him. We're trapped here. And Thorn—" He laughed, bitter. "Thorn might not even come."

  "He'll come," Seren said.

  "You don't know that."

  "Bree wouldn't have sent for him if—"

  "Nobody knows ANYTHING!" Cocky's voice cracked. "We don't know when he's coming, we don't know what Jorvan's doing, we don't know how to fix ANY of this!"

  Kith stood. "Cocky—"

  "I need to think." He turned toward the alcoves. Away from them. "Just... leave me alone."

  He walked away.

  The others stood there, helpless.

  Above them, the fairy-sun shone steady. The children played, oblivious.

  And at the end of the street, a guard settled in to watch.

  Three days since Cocky escaped. It felt like thirty. Still no Merren.

  And Cocky was pushing away the only people who could help him.

  ***

  The moss was gone.

  Cocky had worn through it. Days of pacing had flattened the soft green carpet down to bare stone. His talons clicked with each step. Click. Click. Click.

  Back and forth across the cavern floor.

  He hadn't eaten since the day they arrived. Couldn't remember the last time he'd slept.

  The children played quietly today. Subdued. They could feel it—the tension radiating from the broken king who wouldn't stop moving.

  Seren sat with Old Nerris, folding paper flowers in silence. Dain tried to engage the kids in a game but kept glancing at Cocky. Worried.

  Kith lay by the stream, head on her paws, watching.

  If anyone came near him, he snapped.

  So they stayed back.

  The fairy-sun climbed across the ceiling. Morning stretched into late morning.

  The stream sloshed.

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  "Loading ships!" Kwik's voice, vibrating with urgency. "Crates, barrels, soldiers climbing aboard!"

  Cocky's pacing quickened.

  Click-click-click-click.

  "It's happening," Seren said quietly.

  Bree descended the stairs, flour still on her hands. She'd heard the eels from the kitchen.

  "He's really leaving," Dain said.

  Cocky didn't stop. Didn't look at them. Just kept walking.

  Click. Click. Click.

  ***

  The fairy-sun reached its peak. Noon.

  The drain erupted again.

  "Jorvan-king on ship!" Sleech's voice, deliberate and dark. "Valgarr too! With Eldmere-king boarding now!"

  Cocky stumbled. Caught himself. Kept moving.

  "Mate—" Dain started forward.

  "Don't." Cocky's voice was raw.

  "Merren can't be that far away now," Dain tried. "He's gotta be close, yeah? Maybe tomorrow—"

  "You don't KNOW that!" Cocky wheeled on him. His eyes were wild. Red-rimmed. "Stop SAYING that! You don't know ANYTHING!"

  Dain stepped back.

  Bree moved forward. Not close. Just... present.

  "You're no good to Eldmere like this," she said. Quiet. Firm.

  Cocky laughed. Bitter, broken. "I'm no good to Eldmere anyway."

  "Merren's three days closer than he was." Bree didn't soften her voice. Didn't coddle. "He'll come. But when he does, you need to be able to THINK. Not just... this." She gestured at his pacing, his shaking wings. "Eat. Sleep. Or the plan fails before it starts."

  Cocky stopped moving. Stood there, swaying slightly.

  "I know," he whispered. "I just... I can't stop."

  Kith lifted her head from her paws. "You know," she said, voice dry, "if we're gonna be stuck here forever, at least it's in a magical underground kingdom with fairy-stars and kids who don't ask if I eat people. Could be worse. Could be trying to save Eldmere."

  No one laughed.

  Cocky started pacing again.

  Click. Click. Click.

  ***

  The fairy-sun began its descent. Afternoon light stretched long across the stone.

  The drain exploded with noise.

  "Ships leaving harbor!" Blink, practically shrieking. "Sails up! Moving-moving-moving!"

  Cocky froze.

  For one breath. Two.

  Then he tried to take another step.

  His leg wobbled.

  He stumbled forward, caught himself against the cavern wall.

  "Cocky—" Kith was on her feet.

  He tried to push off the wall. Tried to keep moving.

  His legs buckled.

  He sank down slowly—fighting it, trying to stay upright—but his body had nothing left.

  Then his knees gave out completely.

  He collapsed.

  Kith and Dain were there in seconds, but Cocky didn't move. Didn't push them away. Couldn't.

  Above them, the fairy-sun shone steady.

  The children had gone quiet.

  And somewhere out at sea, Jorvan's ships were sailing toward Eldmere.

  Cocky woke to darkness.

  Not the oppressive darkness of the tunnels, but soft. Gentle. The fairies had created a curtain of shadow around the alcove, their lights dimmed to let him rest.

  He blinked. His body ached. His throat was dry.

  How long had he—

  He could see through the fairy-curtain that the sun was high in the sky. The crowing. He'd missed it.

  Every morning since he could remember, his body forced him to crow at dawn. An instinct deeper than thought. Cockatrices set the rhythm for the world's roosters—someone had to wake the sun.

  But he'd slept through it.

  Other cockatrices would have taken up the call. The world hadn't stopped. But he...

  He'd failed even that.

  Footsteps, soft on moss. The fairy-curtain parted.

  Old Nerris sat down beside the alcove, a bowl in her weathered hands. Steam curled up, carrying the scent of earth and growing things.

  "You're awake," she said. Not a question.

  Cocky tried to sit up. His head spun. He sagged back against the cushions.

  "Easy now." Nerris set the bowl on a small stone shelf carved into the alcove wall. "You've been out since yesterday afternoon."

  Yesterday. The eel report. Jorvan's ships leaving.

  The collapse.

  Shame burned through him.

  "I'm fine," he said. His voice cracked.

  "You're not." Nerris picked up the bowl again. "But you will be. Drink this."

  "I don't—"

  "Drink."

  There was no arguing with that tone. Nerris held the bowl.

  The broth was warm. It tasted like the cavern itself—mushrooms, herbs, something green and alive.

  Healing broth.

  Cocky drank.

  Nerris watched him, her hands still holding the bowl.

  "You missed your crow this morning," she said.

  "I know."

  "First time?"

  "Yes."

  "The world kept turning."

  He looked at her. "What?"

  "The sun rose. The children woke. The fairies shifted from stars to sunshine." Nerris's eyes were kind. Old. Knowing. "The world didn't need you to crow. It kept going."

  Cocky stared into his bowl.

  "Your people are the same," she continued. "They'll keep going whether you're there or not. The question is—when you get back to them, will you be someone worth following?"

  "I don't—" His voice broke. "I don't know how to do this."

  "No one does. Not at first." Nerris reached over and gently pushed the bowl back toward his beak. "Drink more."

  He obeyed.

  "You're doing this for your people," Nerris said. "That's good. That's right. But you're trying to do it alone. And no king can be successful alone?" She shook her head. "The task is too big. Just like Bree can’t run The Turnip on her own or help the children alone. You can’t keep pushing your friends away."

  "I'm not pushing them away," Cocky said, but even he didn't believe it.

  "You snapped at Kith for trying to help you plan. At Dain for offering hope. At Bree for telling you the truth." Nerris's voice was gentle, but firm. "You're so afraid of failing, that you won't let them stand with you."

  Cocky's beak trembled. "What if I make the wrong choice? What if I—"

  "You will."

  He looked up sharply.

  "You'll make wrong choices," Nerris said. "You already have. You'll make more. That's what being king is—making choices when there are no good options. But you don't have to make them alone."

  She gestured toward the fairy-curtain, toward the cavern beyond where his friends waited.

  "Kith obeyed your signal. Risked her life. Dain cried when he thought you were dead. Seren hasn't let go of her sword in four days because she's ready to fight for you." Nerris's voice softened. "Let them help you. That's what they're here for."

  "But I don't know what to do," Cocky whispered. "When we get to Eldmere, I don't know how to convince the people to stand behind me, let alone convincing them I'm alive. I don't know how to stop Jorvan. I don't—"

  "Then you figure it out together." Nerris took the empty bowl away. "You ask them. You listen. You trust that they want you to succeed just as much as you do."

  Cocky sat with that. The fairy curtain slowly let in more light as the fairies let go of each other and went back to the children. One came to sit on the bed. It looked like a firefly. The fairies were insects.

  "Being king is a big responsibility," Nerris said quietly. "And if you don't learn how to carry it—how to share it—it will kill you." She stood, bowl in hand. "These challenges will keep coming. Jorvan won't be the last. So you need to find a better way."

  She moved toward the entrance, the fairy curtain now gone, then paused.

  "Your people need a king who fights for them. Not one who fights alone."

  Cocky sat there, blinking against it.

  He could hear the children playing. Laughter. The splash of water. Dain's voice, teaching a song.

  His friends. Still here. Still waiting.

  He took a breath. It hurt less than when he woke up.

  Then he pushed himself up—slowly, carefully—and stepped out of the alcove.