The courtyard had fallen quiet. All eyes were on Atheia now, faces so scared it broke her heart.
“Do not be afraid, my friends,” she said loudly. She imbued as much calm in her voice as she could, sending out waves of soul-tending magic from Aestas to soothe their panic. “I am the Tides returned to your shores, and I have come here to fix this world and restore things to how they were. But it seems the blight of the eclipse has been festering here for far too long. These creatures are from another realm, allowed to pass through here because of Eclipse magic. But I will keep you safe from them. I will stop this spreading darkness.”
“How?” someone asked shakily.
“By ridding the world of the Shadow’s taint,” Atheia said. She motioned to her captives. “I have here the Shadow himself and the Tidecaller who brought him out of the Deep, as well as the traitorous lunar mages who aided them. They are the ones to blame for this. And once I am finished turning them back to the light, I promise you, the world and your magic will be restored, and there will be nothing left to fear.”
She could sense their unease, feel their doubts. They didn’t trust her to keep them safe, even if they wanted to. Theyneededsomeone to believe in, given all the impossible things they had seen in the last few minutes alone. They needed something true, a force they knew to be good.
“Trust in Bruma and Anima and Aestas and Quies, in we the Tides of Fate,” Atheia said. “Let me demonstrate to you how those who put their faith in the Tides will be rewarded.”
She motioned to the Regulators to bring Emory to the fountain. While they dragged her there, Atheia crouched beside a still subdued Sidraeus and said, barely above a whisper, “You told me back in the godsworld that if I spilled another drop of her blood, you’d split me up into pieces. So let me tell you, dear Sidraeus, thatI plan to bleed her dry—and take my time with it. When I’m done, she will die, and maybe this bond you share means you will too.”
Atheia lifted his chin with a finger, watching with satisfaction as all the light dimmed from his eyes. “If I can’t kill you myself,” she said, “I’ll gladly settle for this. And I’ll enjoy every second of your slow torture.”
Emory stood in the shallow, freezing waters of the Fountain of Fate. Atheia stepped in after her, wielding a sharp dagger. She turned to the crowd and let them feel the weight of her gaze, willing their attention to remain on her.
The Tidal Council and other Selenic Order members—all of them wearing porcelain Tide masks—formed a circle around the fountain, looking up at Atheia like supplicants. Behind them, the quad was a quiet sea of fearful students and curious professors and dispirited protesters, some still wearing their abominable Shadow masks as they waited with bated breath for what came next, ensorcelled by Atheia’s magic.
Atheia took hold of Emory’s wrist and pressed the dagger to it.
“Ro, please don’t do this,” Emory begged. “Don’t let her—”
Atheia did not let her finish. She slashed the dagger across Emory’s skin. Silver blood spilled out—they had branded her with the Unhallowed Seal while she was still in the thralls of her power, a near-Collapsing in effect—and mixed with the water in eddying swirls.
For the tiniest of seconds, Atheia lost the battle of wills inside her as Romie’s heart broke for her friend.
We need her,Atheia reminded her.
Romie knew this. But as she looked at Emory, fighting to stay conscious as blood pooled out of her too fast—as her eyes found the traitorous Selenic Order members they’d subdued, Virgil and Ife and Javier andNisha…
They will all be all right,Atheia said.This will be over soon.
Romie had been in agreement with Atheia on getting rid of Eclipse magic, and though her methods had become increasingly twisted, curdling unpleasantly in Romie’s mind, she had let Atheia’s words convince her that it was necessary. That the deity was getting the justice she deserved, and that this would somehow avenge the keys who had died at Clover’s hands.
Never did Romie imagine it would get this far. Or if she did, she hadn’t wanted to believe it. In retrospect, she should have drawn the line at the Luaguan professor’s torture. But the shock of it had made her passive, resigned to her forced complicity. What other choice did she have but to go along with what the deity inhabiting her body wanted to do? She was no longer in control, and so it was better to be of one mind with Atheia than to fight back and see herself erased entirely.
But seeing her best friend like this… This, she couldn’t abide.
It has to be done.
Atheia wrested control of her vessel again as she slashed her own wrist so that her blood mixed in with Emory’s. It was Romie’s blood, the blood of a lunar mage combined with the silver blood of an Eclipse-born, and yet it was notonlyRomie’s blood, but Atheia’s own divine essence. Magic in pure form, mixing with the magic Emory had stolen from her. The lunar overtaking the eclipse. Reclaiming it. Reshaping it.
They’d needed a Tidecaller to take power from. In a complete reversal of how a Tidecaller called on Atheia’s magics, depleting the keys of their life force, Atheia now called onEmory’spower, depletingherof her magic—this power of liminality in her veins that went beyond anything Atheia or Sidraeus could have ever created alone, a power that the gods themselves had feared.
Atheia had gotten the idea from Clover, how he had attempted to make everyone into Tidecallers all those centuries ago. This, she had glimpsed from his memories during their brief encounter.Maybe he’d had the right idea. Maybe Tidecaller blood could be spilled to make everyone limitless, just not in the way Clover thought. And with Atheia’s divinity poured into that blood, no one would need to die.
Unlike Tidecallers, Atheia was not a thief. She was acreator. And she was only taking back what was rightfully hers—and redistributing it to those she had created this magic for in the first place.
Atheia raised her arms over her head, and droplets of glowing, silvery water lifted in the air with her. The air crackled with magic, with possibility, as those ethereal droplets—as their combined blood—swirled around her, and then in one swift motion went flying toward the Selenic Order and Tidelore members standing around the fountain.
There was a flash of brilliant light. A collective gasp as her faithfuls were drenched in the magical droplets.
A woman wearing a Quies mask produced light at her fingertips—a power that should not have been accessible to her. Leonie Thornby, a Wordsmith, wielded tendrils of darkness. A man with a Full Moon sigil used Sower magic to make the lunar flower buds floating in the fountain bloom beautifully. Magic of all kinds rose from hands that did not bear the proper sigil, that did not answer to the moon over their heads, that did not need bloodletting to be let loose.
Awed murmurs rose from the crowd, understanding rippling through them. Those faithful to Atheia now had full access to all lunar magics. Just as it once was.
There was a splash as Emory fell limply, her head half submerged in the shallow water. She appeared woozy as her blood poured and poured, her magic worn thin by Atheia’s will. Atheia faltered as Romie’s consciousness broke through the surface again with renewed force.
