“But I thought opening the doors between worlds is what caused this rot to spread in the first place.”
“Only because opening them takes magic away from the ley lines. Every time a door opens, this finite resource grows ever thinner, taking longer and longer to get replenished by the minuscule trickle allowed to come through from the fountain. It’s not supposed to be this way. When all the doors were open, the ley lines could never be depleted, because magic flowed straight through them from the fountain, and the fountain is infinite. But now the gods sit in their precious godsworld, a place so perfect that none of this sickness can ever get to it, because the fountain spills freely there, a source of eternal life and power. Magic powerful enough to heal all worlds if it were to flow freely through them once again.”
He leaned toward her. “Youhave the power to make that happen. If you learn to tap into the ley lines, you can blow the damwide open and heal these crumbling worlds in the process.”
“But that’s not all you’re after, is it? You want to wrest the power from the gods—and you need me for it.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “If you can tap into the ley lines, you can tap into the fountain. And you can siphon that power off to me.”
Emory crossed her arms. “And what about my friends? The pieces of Atheia you want so badly to destroy?”
“I do admit I sought to destroy them at first. But they are needed for us to reach the godsworld.” He didn’t seem pleased about it.
“And yet you still tried to kill them multiple times.”
“It’s difficult for me to sense these pieces of Atheia nearby andnotwant to kill them. I have spent a millennia in the sleeping realm stewing in my rage and revenge. Those feelings don’t go away so easily. You learn to live in the dark when you have no choice. Can you blame me for making the darkness mine?”
His words resonated within her. Emory had been in the dark herself for so long, she was adapting to it against her will. Becoming someone who hurt her friends because she couldn’t help herself wanting more power. Becoming someone who would do anything to protect them—even let herself become a killer.
If it weren’t for the unnatural color of his eyes or the otherworldly power that thrummed from him, Emory might believe she had gone back in time, to a bonfire on the beach with that same boy staring at her. But this was not Keiran. He might look like him and sound like him and have his memories, but it was nothim.
And yet she hated him all the same.
So why then did her blood sing at his proximity? Why did she relate to Sidraeus’s story in such a way that shebelievedhim, despite all the warning bells in her mind?
Emory didn’t want to trust him, didn’t want to feel even the tiniest fleck of kinship toward him. She tried to find the faults in hisstory, to see where he might be twisting the truth to dupe her. And yet she couldn’t deny the power she’d felt from the ley lines. Couldn’t deny the trepidation she felt at the idea of Atheia being brought back and what that might mean for her friends.
Sidraeus was offering a solution to the dying worlds—and to her own twisted magic. He was offering answers, and a way to master herself. She couldn’t pass up such an opportunity.
When the time came, she could choose whether or not to do what he wanted of her.
He might be a deity, but he needed her, perhaps more than she needed him. He couldn’t cross through worlds without her or the keys. He couldn’t even use all his powers while in Keiran’s body. And though she couldn’t truly trust him, wouldn’t let herself, shecoulduse him as long as it suited her, just as he would use her as it suited him.
At least this time, they both knew where they stood.
60BAZ
BAZ CALLED ON THE THREADSof time to contain the blast of Thames’s Collapse. He managed to keep it from reaching him and the others as they stumbled as far back as they could. But Baz couldn’t stop Thames entirely, the power emanating from him too strong, burning too bright, that his magic simply eroded against it.
Baz didn’t understand. If Thames had already Collapsed, how was he doing so again now? It was as if the Tidecaller synth he’d injected himself with were blazing through his body, liquid silver burning him from the inside out. The blast flared bright, then subsided for a fraction of a second, before flaring brighter than before, and again subsiding. Over and over and over again in quick, successive spurts, as if he were experiencing multiple Collapsings one after the other, each more terrible than the last.
Thames’s screams ripped through the Treasury as silver light shot out in every which way. Clover was screaming too as he fought against the hold Kai had on him, trying desperately to getto Thames despite the danger of the blasts. Behind Baz, Cordie and Luce huddled close together, in the small bubble of protection that Baz was keeping out of time’s reach. Around them, the silver light shot through the Treasury, splitting the grotto’s walls in numerous places. This whole place was going to fall apart if this lasted much longer.
But then, at last, the light died out completely. Thames fell limply to the scorched cave floor beneath him, his body unrecognizable.
His veins had turned black, his skin shriveled in a way that echoed Quince Travers, eyes wide and unseeing, mouth open on a silent scream like Lia Azula.
It was as if his magic had consumed him from the inside. Rotted him to the core, depleting him of every last drop of power and life until he was nothing but a husk.
Clover was instantly at Thames’s side, falling to his knees with a broken cry. He gathered Thames’s body in his arms. Tears fell in earnest down his face. His head whipped to Baz, a bright fervor in his eyes as he said, “Undo this. Bring him back.”
When Baz did not move, Clover’s face turned feral.“Bring him back!”
Kai stepped in front of Baz, as if ready to take the brunt of any attack Clover might launch his way. Baz gripped his wrist to say it was all right.
“I can’t,” Baz said to Clover. “There are limits to my power. Toallour power.”
What happened to Thames was proof enough.
