“It was that or leave her with the enemy,” Emily said, narrowing her eyes at Algonquin, who was hovering over the bloody grass, poking the ground where the dragons had disappeared with watery tendrils. “I did what I had to do.”
Now you just have to live with it.
Emily knew that better than anyone. She’d been a soldier for a long, long time now. She’d done terrible things, and had worse done to her, and yet she was still alive. She’d live through this, too. The Phoenix always rose again. That had been the one fundamental truth of her life since Raven had first appeared to her in the floodwater so long ago, and Emily Jackson clung to it now, keeping her stance wary as Algonquin turned to her at last.
“Well, well,” the spirit said, looking down at them with a face that was no longer a face at all, but a flat mask of shimmering water where Emily’s own distorted reflection—the normal kind, not Algonquin’s creepy mimicry—stared back at her from the ripples. “What a mess. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You humans ruin everything you touch. Always have. Sometimes, I think I hate you more than the dragons.”
“Don’t pin this on me,” Emily said defiantly. “You were the one who forced my hand. But it’s over, Algonquin. The Merlin is dead, and her spirit’s gone with her.” She grinned a wide, mirthless grin. “You’ve lost.”
“Impossible,” the spirit said, her watery voice sharp. “When you have forever, youcan’tlose. You can only be set back, and that’s all your efforts have bought.” She turned to look at the bloody pool. “I might have lost my early edge, but even with this, my Mortal Spirit should still be up long before any of the others, which means all of your sacrifices were for nothing.AndI didn’t even get to see you kill a dragon.” She shook her head. “Waste of a day for everyone.”
“I’m sure you think that,” the general said. “But for the record, I wasn’t trying to kill him. Julius Heartstriker is a good dragon, which makes him one in a million. He attacked only because he was heartbroken, as he had every right to be, but even in his rage, he was no match for me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Algonquin said, pointing at the holes in Emily’s chest. “But it doesn’t matter now. The prize is dead and the dragons have scurried home. The only thing left to do now is use your life to threaten Raven back to his senses.”
“Impossible,” Raven cawed, appearing from nowhere to land on Emily’s shoulder. “I’m already there. Any spirit with sense can see that there’s no end to your need for control, Algonquin. But we’ve been down that road before, you and I. We both know how it ends.”
“But this time is different,” Algonquin said, raising her transparent, watery hand. “This time, I havehim.”
One of the Leviathan’s tentacles dipped down to curl around her fingers, and Raven looked away with a shudder. “All the more reason to stay away,” he muttered, his voice dark and deep, as it sometimes got. “But I told you before. I told you sixty years ago when we first woke: no good can come from a weapon that hurts us as much as it does our enemies. Stupid as it was back then, though, it’s even worse now, because you’re no longer the only one with a trump on the board.”
For the first time since she’d appeared, Algonquin hesitated. “What are you talking about?”
“Your weapon,” Raven said, looking up at the Leviathan. “It’s no longer the only one. Brohomir of the Heartstrikers has his own Nameless End. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
She scoffed. “You think I care what company that baby seer keeps?”
“I hope you do,” Raven snapped back. “Because if you don’t, you’ve gone mad. Brohomir is young, but he’s the best seer the dragons have produced since they came to this plane. There’s only one reason a genius like him would be stupid enough to bring another Nameless End into the picture, and that’s to counter yours. Are you familiar with the term ‘mutually assured destruction?’ Because if you don’t step back—”
“Why should I step back?” Algonquin said, her water roiling. “It is I who have been wronged! I was forced into sleep, unable to defend myself, and when I woke, I found my waters polluted and ravaged and crawling with dragons and humans! Filthy worms all over my body!”
“So you drowned them,” Emily growled, trying and failing to keep back the old, deadly anger. “Hundreds of thousands of innocent—”
“I was innocent!” Algonquin cried, growing larger as the bloody water from the ground started to collect at her feet. “Iwas the one who was violated, and I will drown this entire world before I let any of you do it again!”
“That might very well be what happens,” Raven said, hopping off Emily’s shoulder to land on the grass in front of Algonquin. “Youwerewronged, no one can argue that, but being a victim doesn’t free you from taking responsibility for what you’ve done since. You started this escalation. You invited in what you should never have touched. Now the dragons have done the same, and it doesn’t take a seer to see how that’s going to end. There’s only one possible outcome when two unstoppable forces collide.”
“Perhaps,” Algonquin said. “But what does that matter to us? We are the land. Even if everything else dies, we live forever.”
“Alone?” Raven asked.
“At least it would be quieter than listening to you,” she said bitterly. “A world without ravens would be quite peaceful, I think. For now, though, I’ll settle for killing your pets.”
Beside her, Myron gasped, but Emily just clenched her fists. “Why bother?” she asked. “Killing us won’t net you anything. Wouldn’t you rather get a ransom?”
“What would I do with that?” the spirit asked. “I have everything I need right here.” She gestured at the DFZ, its glittering superscrapers shining like ripples in water as the first dawn light finally broke over the horizon. “But even though I can never truly lose, someone still needs to pay for all my wasted work, and since you killed the one who was actually responsible, Emily Jackson, that burden falls on your metal shoulders.” Her falling water split into a horrifying mockery of a smile. “Looks like the Phoenix’s number is finally up.”
“Now, now,” Raven said, fluttering back to his human. “Let’s not be too hasty. I spent a lot of time building her, you know.”
“Then you should have no problem building another,” Algonquin said as bloody water rose up to circle around her like a spinning blade. “We are spirits. Time is all we have.”
Raven made a frustrated sound. Emily, however, said nothing. She just stood there, perfectly still, watching her reflection in Algonquin’s blank face as the blade of water spun faster and closer. Then, just as she was readying the self-destruct blast that would hopefully shatter Algonquin so hard, she wouldn’t reform for a month, an unexpected voice spoke up.
“It doesn’t have to be wasted.”
The spinning water rippled, and Algonquin turned to stare down at Myron, who was still lying prone on his stomach in the mud under the Leviathan’s tentacle. “What did you say?”
“I said, your work doesn’t have to be wasted,” the mage repeated, his voice straining under the tentacle’s weight. Obviously curious, Algonquin sent the black appendage away with a flick of her fingers, moving like water pouring down a hill to crouch beside the mage with focused attention.
