It was as if Clover’s body was going through every such horror. As if, without the sustenance of the souls that had made him a god, he was becoming monstrous again. Veins turning black along paleskin. Turquoise eyes losing their otherworldly glow, flashing with hurt as he contorted in pain. He turned to face Emory, seeming to realize what was happening, whatshewas doing.
Emory felt how close she was to taking everything away from Clover—her own wretched ancestor, even if only distantly so. She could see it on his ashen face that his power was dwindling ever closer to extinction, until he was again just a Tidecaller, and perhaps not even that.
Just a man, painfully mortal.
And very, very angry.
His face contorted with a vengeful, vicious rage. Dust gathered around him, his faithful ash-monsters flocking to him as if to protect him. And just like that, Clover was gone—as if willing such power to him one last time—before he reappeared right in front of Emory.
She knew this would be the end. He looked like he was about to Collapse for good and take the whole universe with him in a killing blast. Maybe she had been too late. Maybe taking power away from him, cutting him from his corrupt source, hadn’t worked one bit, and he would bring them all to ashes anyway.
Emory barely registered the body moving in front of her. She only made out the back of Sidraeus’s head before he barreled straight into Clover and the two of them tumbled farther away, rolling in the ash. And then Sidraeus was crouching over Clover, holding him down, his runes flaring bright white.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Clover’s power building around him, ready to scorch everything in its path. Sidraeus meeting Emory’s eye over his shoulder. His voice in her mind, soft as falling leaves.
You are a light, Emory Ainsleif. And it’s been the honor of a very dark and lonely lifetime to know you.
“NO!”
Clover’s magic erupted. But it did not sweep over them like a tidal wave of death. It concentrated around Sidraeus,intoSidraeus, making the runes on his skin come alive with electric light that flared brighter and brighter until the world was flooded white.
Emory couldn’t see anything but light, couldn’t feel anything except for the hole ripping open inside her, the loss so poignant it was unfathomable. The blast of power did not reach her, did not hurt her, because Sidraeus was containing it. Sidraeus was taking on the brunt of the attack, the full weight of Clover’s deadly residual magic. Sidraeus was saving her, savingall of them.
And this would be his end.
When the light at last subsided, when everything quieted, Sidraeus’s body was splayed out on the ground next to Clover’s. Emory rushed over, tears streaming down her face, to find all the spiral runes on him gone, as if they had been wiped away by Clover’s magic.
Sidraeus’s skin was unblemished. No runes, no wounds.
A blast like that should have reduced him to cinders. But he opened his eyes—those beautiful, ecliptic eyes—and looked right at her. He reached a hand to her face, fingers so very delicate as they brushed her cheek, her lips.
“How?” Emory breathed.
He has fulfilled his bargain.
It was only then that Emory realized she and Sidraeus were surrounded by a familiar spiral of shadowy clouds, as if they were in the eye of a great cyclone frozen in time. The souls of the Tidecallers, whispering in their many-layered voices.
By being willing to die for the last Tidecaller, Sidraeus has put right what he broke so long ago, and so we protected him.They seemed to draw closer to Sidraeus, addressing him directly.Phoebus. Bright one. Sidraeus. You brought us to ruin, cast a shadow upon the magic you left behind, but you have redeemed yourselfhere, and we the souls of those you first abandoned forgive you. Your bargain is ended. Your curse is lifted.
Sidraeus’s eyes shut as silent tears caught in his lashes. This was the redemption he had been looking for, and here it was granted.
The souls drew closer to Emory now, and when they spoke, their voices were full of yearning.And now for our curse, Tidecaller. We wish to be free.
“You deserve to be,” Emory whispered, and gave the souls what they asked, healing them like she had the umbrae. They began to dissipate, rushing into the fountain like the other ghosts Emory had laid to rest.
When all of them disappeared, the world around them was still—except for the blur of motion in the corner of her eyes.
Clover had pulled himself to his feet, alive but ashen, his face lined and sunken as if the years were finally catching up to him. He must have been making his way toward Emory and Sidraeus, intent on killing them while they were trapped in the cyclone of souls. But Luce got to Clover first, plunging what looked like the first witch’s discarded rib bone into his chest.
Clover’s face contorted with shock and pain, his eyes falling on Luce as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.
“This is for my daughter,” Luce seethed, stabbing him again. “This is for everyone you lied to and used and brought to their deaths.” Again. “For Asphodel and Thames and Cordelia most of all, whom you robbed of a great love, but not her legacy.” Clover slumped to the ground as Luce pulled the rib out of him. She fell to her knees with him and held the bloodied bone over his heart. “Let my face be the last you see, knowing that it’s your sister’s own flesh and blood who put an end to you.”
It happened fast. One moment, Luce was holding the bloodied bone over Clover’s heart, and the next,hewas the one holding it and slashing it wildly in defense.
A wet sound slipped from Luce’s lips. A strained gargle as blood sprayed all over Clover’s face. Luce stumbled backward, her hands going to her neck, where rivers of red rushed from a deep, horizontal slit.
A visceral scream tore from Emory’s throat as she caught her mother in her arms. She didn’t register what happened to Clover. Didn’t register anything beyond the light fading too quickly from her mother’s eyes, the way she fought to look at Emory as blood gushed out of her, pooling around them both. The hot, sticky feel of her hand as she touched Emory’s cheek.
