“Oh,” Domenic said, because he wasn’t sure how Peak wanted him to respond.
But Peak betrayed no disappointment. He stood with a groan and lightly slapped his left knee. “Well, it’s been a long night. You should try to get some sleep before we arrive.”
“Yeah. All right.”
After another hard clap, Peak returned to the rest of the team in the adjacent train car.
Domenic slumped across the bench. His eyes drifted toward Valmordion, like a fly drawn fatally to a flame.
He’d already believed destiny was bullshit. Maybe prophecies were just bullshit, too.
Still, he jolted up and switched the radio back on, even if it meant hearing prime-time star Floyd Wilder warn the whole country to kiss their hope goodbye.
It was better than hearing nothing.
Domenic cringed as he forced open his car door against a barrage of icy wind. Orange Nature Defense Corps vehicles clustered on the highway bank, their headlights shining across the craggy field toward the winterscurge raging a hundred yards beyond. It rose from earth to sky and stretched out endlessly in either direction. Although glints of silver frost whirled across the storm’s surface, no light penetrated within it, the blackness so absolute that Domenic swore he was staring at the very edge of the world.
Immediately, a young magician scampered to greet their team, then gawked at Domenic. In his bulky Winter gear, it took Domenic a moment to place him as Elijah Kleid, a boy from the class above him who’d bonded with a mid-tier nature wand two years ago.
“What is this?” Peak demanded. “I was told thirty minutes ago the storm was at the 306 mile marker. Just how fast is this thing moving?”
“That’s the thing, sir. Th-the winds just broke a hundred and twenty knots. At this rate, it’ll hit Oldermere before sunrise. And there’s been two more winterghast sightings, as well—small ones, we think. We dispatched another scouting squad thirty minutes ago, but they haven’t returned yet.”
Peak’s expression darkened. “Osakwe, radio Oldermere, then Gallamere. Tell them I’m reclassifying the scurge as category four. Matthews, get me a full roster of every magician here. And Barrow, suit up. You and I need to lead a unit into the storm.”
Domenic swallowed down a noise of alarm—he’d barely braced himself for a category three. But Peak and his retinue had already dashed off to join the other officers, leaving Domenic alone with Kleid, who stared at him with something uncomfortably close to awe.
“This way, um, sir.” Kleid led Domenic to a large utility vehicle, which Domenic immediately noticed from the logo was manufactured by his father’s company. A pair of magicians huddled behindit to escape the onslaught of wind. Judging from the gray insignia on their uniforms, they were hedge magicians—magicians without Living Wands whom the Order hired to fill the gaps in their ranks.
Recognizing yet another former classmate, one he’d rather not acknowledge, Domenic hastily turned his back to them. Kleid dug through the crates in the trunk and began thrusting gear into Domenic’s arms.
“—aren’t real,” Former Classmate grumbled. “The Dire Three are just conspiracies made up by rookies who saw a ghast for the first time and shit themselves.”
“I’m telling you, my friend swore he saw Decibel,” her companion hissed, shivering as he smoked a cigarette. “Spotted it while patrolling the border of the fallen territory. Said it must’ve been ten feet tall, with the spikes and everything.”
“Well, if ghasts like themarereal, then there’s no way your friend would’ve survived…Barrow?”
Domenic cringed as he zipped his coat and spun around. “Hi, Sanford.”
Vivian Sanford’s companion balked. “Barrow? You’re here? And you…?” His eyes locked onto the white sheath poking out of Domenic’s pocket—alban wood.
When Domenic had last spoken to Sanford, she’d asked him not to tell anyone about that time in the empty lecture hall, or in the alley off Elm Street, or in her dorm while her roommate was gone for break. Everyone knew his reputation, she’d explained, and she intended to be a serious magician.
Her bonding window had closed three weeks later.
“Are even more dashing in person?” Domenic finished dryly. “I get that a lot. So… what’s the Dire Three?”
“I-it’s nothing,” Sanford’s companion stammered. “Just rookie superstition.”
A proper Chosen One would take the high ground.
Domenic, however, flashed a smile. “No, Sanford’s too serious of a magician for that. So tell me. I want to know.”
Sanford’s already wind-bitten cheeks flushed fiercer. “They’re three really powerful winterghasts, supposedly. They’ve never been seen together, and it’s not like there’s ever been a confirmed report or anything—”
“But there’s been enough rumors that people have started giving them nicknames,” her companion cut in. “All the rumors claim that they don’t look like normal ghasts. They look almosthuman. Like, I’ve heard Decibel stands upright, but it’s got spikes all over it. But it’s also hard to be sure—apparently it’s not easy to get a look at it. Cadaver has never technically been sighted, but its victims always look the same, just totally mangled. And Thundersnow is the biggest. I meanhuge,as big as a building.”
Domenic barked out a laugh. “As big as a building. Sure. Because why not, right?”
