The incandescence of Barrow’s magic swept across Mercester Square, banishing every last trace of the storm. It illuminated mangled streetlamps and dented cars, smashed windows and scattered trash bins. It shone upon the broken marquee, sparkled in every puddle, every windshield, every shard of glass.
Yethewas the brightest shape in Ellery’s vision. He rose to his feet, panting but steady. Water streamed down the curve of his brow, the hollows of his throat. He looked valiant. He looked radiant.
A final gust rustled out a death rattle, then stilled.
The winterscurge was gone. The winterghast was slain.
Mercester Square was safe.Gallamerewas safe.
Barrow lowered his gaze to hers. For several heartbeats, neither of them looked away. Both of their training wands had broken—hers splintered, his snapped clean in half.
The longer Ellery stared at him, the less she recognized the boy whose reputation preceded him for all the wrong reasons, whose tragedy clung to him like a shadow.
Instead, she saw a powerful magician—shaken but still standing.
“Fuck,” Barrow said at last.
Ellery swallowed. “Fuck, indeed.”
She swayed, and Barrow caught her sleeve. Her entire body trembled, her clothes soaked and freezing. His warm grip melted the frost on her forearm. Steam sizzled through the air.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Y-you’re…”
Hollering drowned out the rest of his words. People flooded out of nearby buildings, their voices rising in a boisterous uproar. They pushed open storm shutters. They rushed from within the darkened movie theater and the department stores, from where they’d huddled in alleys.
The crowds were clapping and cheering—for them.
But Ellery couldn’t muster any true triumph.
For years, she’d believed her childhood was nothing more than a twisted, unreliable nightmare. Until tonight, when she’d surrendered to the verythingshe’d convinced herself had never existed at all.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling back.
She turned away from Barrow, from the growing crowd, and fled.
VDOMENICSUMMER
Thirty minutes after Domenic staggered home from Mercester Square, he soaked his blistered, frostbitten hands in the bathroom sink. He couldn’t stop shivering.
I told you a cataclysm’s coming,Hanna had said that night in the Vault.And even with Valmordion to save us, we all need to be ready if we’re gonna survive it.
What Domenic’s favorite movies about heroes never got right about surviving a disaster was that the whole of you didn’t. Pieces of yourself would always remain there, buried amid the other bodies and the wreckage. Because when you desperately, agonizingly clawed your way out, you couldn’t carry everything with you.
But he hadn’t simply lost pieces—he’d lost almost everything. And he feared if he did survive whatever horror the cataclysm held, nothing of himself would be left at all.
He startled as the front door burst open. Heels clacked from the foyer.
“Dom?” a voice called frantically—Iseul. “Dom, are you home?”
“I’m here.” He emerged into the parlor, where Iseul rushed to inspect the ghastly white of his fingertips, the terror still etched on his face.
“Itwasyou. I knew it. As soon as we heard, I raced home, and… Oh, Dom.” She threw her arms around him, and though Domenic still shivered, finally, he was warm. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he answered automatically.
“But you’re shaking. And your hands. Come. Sit.” She steered him to the sofa, and they both sank into the velvet cushions. Iseul withdrew Calynia from her purse. It was a beautiful wand, its walnut wood laced with perforations as delicate as a butterfly net. Iseul claimed it was her lifeline. It maintained the details of her schedule, attentively handled the combined storm of three untidy magicians under a single roof. Already, its housekeeping enchantments got to work at her arrival. In the kitchen, pots and pans clattered as they set about preparing supper. The candle on the coffee table ignited, smelling soothingly of gardenia.
As Iseul examined his hands, Domenic asked, “What did you hear?”
