Emory waited for Sidraeus to argue. He didn’t. Only watched her with a begrudging anticipation.
She stepped up to the door that was not yet a door, and let herself plunge into the power of the ley line. It built and built inside her until she was certain she had enough that she could throw it back into the door and will it to open.
But she felt that corruption again, tainting the ley line, pulling on her focus, dimming the very power she sought to fuel herself with. Again she attempted to cleanse it, calling on different magics in her arsenal. But the sickness did not recede, and her own darkness only grew, looking to consume her, a corruption of its own. Both that darkness and the ley line’s power rushed into her, and suddenly she was burning brighter than she ever had, silver veins rippling wildly on her skin.
Emory yelled against the pain of it. It was again like she was Collapsing, but instead of a blast thatended, there seemed to be no end in sight. With difficulty, she rested her hand on the golden spiral in the middle of the rock wall, willing the power into it. Slowly, the fiery red lines that ran through the rock turned silver instead, and Emory knew it was working, the power of the ley lines and her Tidecaller magic seeping into the rock, looking to blow open the door.
But she felt herself slipping. Burning out. The ley line was too powerful, searing through her like she was a conduit, and she knew she would die like Sidraeus’s Tidecallers had.
But then she felt the traces of other magics tied to her own. The keys. The parts of a deity her magic couldn’t help but call on. Emory had sworn to herself she wouldn’t hurt her friends again. She resisted the urge to dip into their reservoir of power, even as she realized she was going to burn out without it.
The darkness around her pressed closer, closer. It didn’t have anywhere to escape to—couldn’t seep into Sidraeus, because he had that magic damper around his neck and would likely not help her now anyway. She was either going to drown in darkness or extinguish the bright lights that were her friends to keep herself afloat.
But shewasdarkness, wasn’t she? Like Sidraeus, she’d been forced to become it. So maybe she could make it hers.
Emory pulled the darkness into herself, the same way Sidraeus had siphoned it from her. It was a power source of its own, a magic that was part of her in some twisted way, but one she hadn’t wanted, one she’d been fighting all this time instead of truly accepting it. It rushed into her, a missing piece she made space for.
But the force of the ley line was still burning through her, and the dam would still not burst. Suddenly Romie was at her side, resting a hand on her arm. “You can do this, Em. Take what you need.”
“If I start, I won’t be able to stop,” Emory gritted out.
Aspen and Tol were right there with her too, offering her their power.
With great effort, Emory found Virgil’s gaze. “Promise you’ll stop me. Promise you won’t let me hurt them.”
Grim understanding settled in Virgil’s eyes. He nodded.
Emory opened herself up to Romie’s and Aspen’s and Tol’s magics, their lifelines.
This wasn’t like the other times. Their magics soared inside her, but it didn’t feel like she wastakinganything from them. She wasn’t a Tidethief; she was a Tidecaller invoking their help, a creation of Sidraeus calling to the creations of Atheia, so that together they could create something more, somethingbetter.
The keys weren’t being depleted of their energy because they were sharing it with her willingly.
The power that poured out of Emory burned bright and true, until the wall before her cracked open in a burst of silver.
There was a greatwhooshlike that of an explosion, and all of them fell back, shielding their eyes from the light.
For a disorienting moment, Emory thought she was dead—that she had doomed them all.
She made out faint silhouettes in the lingering brightness of the blast, like ghosts rising from their deaths. The ringing in her earsmade it impossible to hear anything else. In the silent, hushed chaos, someone grabbed hold of her face. Emory blinked rapidly until Keiran’s face materialized before her. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Had she died and joined him in the afterlife?
No. Keiran wasn’tinthe afterlife. Which meant neither was she. And this wasn’t Keiran at all.
Emory shoved out of Sidraeus’s grasp. The light had faded some, and she could see that the ghostly silhouettes were her friends, looking just as dazed and disoriented as she felt. She grabbed hold of Romie. Unhurt. Alive.
Everyone was alive, if a little shaken.
“Look,” Romie said, her voice sounding muffled to Emory’s ears, but at least she was starting to hear again.
Emory looked. Where there had been a wall before was now a gaping hole in the rock, on the other side of which was the darkness of the sleepscape.
“You did it,” Romie said, her voice clearer now. She was smiling at Emory, her fear at last giving way to awe.
“We did it,” Emory said.
They helped each other to their feet, staring at the open door, the stars beyond.
Something was making its way toward them on the starlit path.
