The sorceress known as Genevie strolled through the forest, fully aware that her work was complete. The immense power that had stretched and strained the very fabric of reality now waned as time passed. She had spent months plotting the capture of Ezrael, fearful it might be impossible. And yet, a solution had fallen from the heavens. As easy as that. Ezrael could only be defeated by her own power.

  Salomae stalled, bouncing her head with the eagerness of a toddler. She placed a hand on a trunk and closed her eyes, listening to sounds only a mad person would notice. Genevie was growing impatient; she wanted her mission done and over so that they would not have to see each other again. Whether Salomae had heard her thoughts—or simply had not read them yet—didn’t matter.

  “What in the world are you doing?” Genevie snapped.

  “The trees are talking,” Salomae giggled. “They have stories to tell. All of them about Fren Rheina.”

  “Nothing new,” Genevie stated.

  “And her rival. Ezrael.”

  Shadows deepened at the mention of the girl’s name. Stars dimmed and hid behind clouds. The wind stopped blowing. Nature held its dying breath.

  “Come along,” Genevie said. “We don’t have much time.”

  Salomae would follow, then pause again to giggle. She nodded along, punctuating her gestures with affirming hums and gasps, murmuring, “You don’t say,” and “That’s incredible.”

  “Mistress, do you know Ezrael did not choose Blackwood at random?”

  “Ezrael did not choose to go anywhere. Stop wasting my time and move along.”

  “She came to prove she had power over Fren Rheina, over Lord Rheina, and the false gods. She is more powerful than the Six.”

  “Murdering defenseless earthens proves that how?” Genevie asked, and as she thought it, neither Salomae nor the talkative trees offered a response. Perhaps the faerie would have an answer, but for now, silence reigned.

  Once they were out of the forest, they mounted the backs of tremts, traversing the hellscape that Blackwood had become. Genevie had seen countless towns ravaged by raw cosmic power; this one barely moved her. To her, it was just another unfortunate event on her list. Following her instincts, she approached a bunker near the churchyard where Jenne stood, aiding what remained of the townspeople.

  A shrivelled woman in dirty rags emerged first, seeming more dead than alive. Jenne then carried a baby out, followed by a young girl. This girl had the golden-brown eyes of an earthen and took the infant, turning to stare at Genevie and Salomae. It was rare to see people so unfazed by the magical; their hearts did not race at the sight of the beast.

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  After the nursing mother came another earthen girl, shrivelled and hollow-eyed. Jenne then grabbed the arm of a boy and helped him out.

  They stood at the mouth of the tunnel and exchanged glances. This boy must have been the one who called her over the phone. He looked alive—like someone not ready to die. Jenne peered into the darkness and extended a hand. The last was Ezra, hesitating at the tunnel’s edge.

  Jenne extended his hand further—but it was no use. Ezra would not come out.

  “Ezrael Vanchelis,” Genevie called. “Come out this instant. Fail to comply, and I will not hesitate to use force.” Silence. “I have a swayer with me.”

  Finally, a head emerged from the hole, multi-coloured eyes scanning the area. A black-vein-netted face followed, leaning forward in a sickly wobble. Ezra steadied herself, gripping Jenne’s hand as she stood with the small group of survivors, blending in as though she belonged.

  “We have come under the authority of Saint Huvris,” Genevie announced. “Floren promised us that you could not survive this long. Since you are still alive, you must return to Kil’Emis with us.”

  “This is my home,” the girl said in Secri. “My family is here.”

  “You have no home. Step away from them. Now.”

  “This is my family,” Ezra said in English. “Lady Sefaney brought me here. She said this is my family.”

  “Floren has no authority over the decree of a Saint.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Go,” Maselli said. His words struck her, and she turned to face him alone.

  “Maselli?” she asked, taking his hand. “What are you saying?”

  Maselli pulled his hand away. “We don’t want you here with us anymore,” he said. “Please go.”

  She reached for him, but he stepped back.

  “Maselli, why are you doing this to me? Why don’t you want me anymore—”

  He shoved her away, and she fell into the dirt. She lay on her side, grief-stricken, glancing from the earthen woman to Jenne to Maselli. She rose and tried to step toward them, but Maselli bent down, picking up a pistol buried in the soil. He levelled it at her face. She froze.

  “I knew it was you,” Maselli said. “I’ve known for a long time, but I didn’t want to admit it. How could someone I love cause me so much pain?”

  “Maselli. Maselli, please look at me. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do any of this. Please don’t do this to me. It wasn’t me. I swear. Please, Maselli, don’t throw me away.”

  Genevie stepped off her tremt, boots crunching against the soil. She pulled a finger from her sleeve and revealed a rolled-up piece of golden paper. Ezra threw up her hands, pushing Genevie away, then bolted in one direction, tripping but continuing to run.

  Salomae leapt from her tremt, cutting off the faerie’s path. The swayer popped open her potion and blew the essence into Ezra’s face. Ezra slumped into Salomae’s arms. The lavender-haired girl made soothing sounds, patting her gently on the head.

  “If she’s so powerful, why did you catch her so easily?” Jenne asked. Among the villagers watching, he was the only one unmoved.

  “It’s all thanks to you,” Genevie said, patting the limp Ezra on the head. “She’s spending much of her power to keep you in existence. She’s given you a past, an identity, emotions, crafting, and ripper powers. That comes at a tremendous cost to herself.”

  “Jeromy?” Maselli asked. “What are you two talking about?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jenne said, keeping his expression neutral. Soon, he would say something that would break their hearts.

  “You’re going back to the Sorels,” Genevie guessed. “You’re bound to one.”

  Jenne glanced first at his family, then at Ezra. He couldn’t stay with Maselli and Mari, even if he loved them. Genevie mounted her tremt, giving it a sharp kick. With Salomae at her side, she surged out of the forest, racing as fast as possible over the morbid plains.