The White Death sleeps in Neferet, waiting for an opportunity to strike. And the plague lurks in the walls, in the surfaces here. He can get rid of them with more power, more light.

Iset's breathing is easing already, under his care. "I would not have expected one of the Wise to come here, even with such vast mercy as the Great Lady possesses."

There is a flicker of shame across Iset's face. "I know that the gifts of the Wise are not wielded without cost, but I fear I have nothing to offer you, kind Skellig."

"It's okay, Momma." Neferet tells her. "I have something!" Neferet proffers a rock to Skellig as if it is a great treasure. It is a holey stone.