Sidraeus met Emory’s gaze—and his voice rang clear as crystal in her mind.
Power can be taken. So take it.
Emory was too shocked to register the words at first. The spiral mark on her wrist prickled in the way it used to when she would activate it to contact another Selenic Order member. But Sidraeus’s lips hadn’t moved; it was like he was speaking to her in her mind just as his umbra form did, though this was not the strange, haunting voice of the crowned umbra. It was his real voice, low and level. A silky tone that spoke of quiet things, like the stillness of a lake on a winter’s night, or the whisper of dead leaves as they fell to the forest floor.
When the words finally registered, Emory looked at Clover, remembering having said that to him last time she’d attempted to call on his power the way she would call on the keys. Clover had easily stopped her then. But now…
Now Emory didn’t try to tap into Clover’s own well of Tidecallermagic, nor the power he had stolen from the fountain. Understanding what Sidraeus was telling her, what he had correctly guessed thatshehad been thinking too, she did what Tidecallers did best: she called on the power of Atheia that still lived inside Clover.
Instantly Clover screamed and dropped to the ground, writhing. Those strange pulses of power that had rippled over him disappeared. There were only black veins slithering beneath his skin. His face turned ashen. His bones bent at odd angles. He clutched at his heart. And Emory had seen all this before, when she’d unwittingly taken power from Romie, Aspen, and Tol.
He seemed to be crumbling in on himself, withering away before her eyes, as if he were losing all the godly power he’d imbibed and Collapsing into something dark and unnatural. The collar around Atheia’s neck unclasped and fell to the ash-covered ground, as if Clover’s loss of power made it null and void. The ash-umbrae’s hold on Sidraeus loosened. Clover’s fury turned to Emory, sensing her interference, knowing she was the one making him weaker.
His ash-umbrae suddenly enveloped him, and Clover disappeared. The look he gave Emory before he vanished was one that promised this wasn’t over. But with how weakened he’d become—how weak she’dmadehim—Emory knew he wouldn’t be back for some time.
There was a moment of utter stillness, where Emory and the two deities who each had a pull on her magic stood staring at one another. And then—a thunderous noise, a tremble that had them all lurching on their feet. It took a moment for Emory to register what she was seeing. Ash spilled from the fountain like quicksand. And Emory knew the ash meant death. It meant that the worlds would keep dying, because nothing had been fixed. Clover might have disappeared, but the fountain was still depleted, the ley lines still dwindling. And now the ash of what remained of this world at the center of all worlds, this place thatused to be the seat of gods, was spreading like death.
Magic would cease to exist unless they fixed it. They had to make the fountain flow again, perhaps bring the gods back to their godsworld, this place that was now a sea of ash.
Someone shouted Emory’s name.
The ash in the air had cleared enough now for her to see the Godsgate far down below, an ornate thing that looked made of carved glass or ice, open onto the mountain peaks beyond. Running across the expanse of ash that separated the Godsgate from the fountain where Emory stood were Virgil, Nisha, Vera, and the two draconics.
Relief flooded through her at the sight of her friends. They’d gotten out of the temple alive, had evaded the Songless and made it here in one piece.
But the ash spilling from the fountain was like a tidal wave headed straight for them.
“Look out!” Emory yelled. She wasn’t certain they’d heard her, but surely they could see the wave of ash coming their way, surely they would have the good sense to turn around and head for safety before it was too late. Emory moved toward them, desperately thinking of a way to help—but was stopped by Romie grabbing her roughly by the arms.
The look on her best friend’s face was full of hatred, unlike anything Emory had ever seen on her. “This isyourdoing,” Atheia hissed, nails digging into Emory’s skin hard enough to draw blood. “All the power you stole…”
“That wasn’t me!” Emory struggled to get out of Atheia’s hold without hurting Romie. “It was Clover.”
“You Tidethieves are all the same. And if I have to spill your blood into the fountain to restore even an ounce of magic, then mark my words—”
Emory was wrenched out of Atheia’s grasp by Sidraeus. “Spillanother drop of her blood, and I’ll split you up into so many pieces you’ll never be whole again,” he said in that low, silky voice that made the threat sound all the more deadly.
Atheia’s mouth curled in contempt. “Sidraeus. It pleases me to know you’ve come back wrong.” Her shifting eyes ran down his torso at that, eyeing the spiral scars that still glimmered faintly there. “Now step away from the Tidethief. Let me sacrifice her to the fountain and fix this mess you’ve made.”
“You and I both know her Tidecaller blood won’t replenish the fountain,” Sidraeus said. “Nothing will except for us—or the gods themselves. And they’re not here to make that happen.”
“And whose fault is that? That monster,” Atheia said, pointing to where Clover had disappeared, “is a product of your unnatural magic and filthy ambition. All these problems lie with you, Sidraeus. And if the sole reason for my coming back is to wash away the stain of what you created, then I’ll gladly give my life once more to see it through.”
The two deities launched themselves at each other.
“No!” Emory screamed as Sidraeus sent a surge of crackling dark power flying. But Atheia easily evaded his attack, sidestepping it in a fluid motion. Beams of prismatic light erupted from her middle and pushed back against Sidraeus’s shadows. Both deities braced under the impact. They seemed equally matched, neither of them gaining ground. When their magics faded, leaving them unscathed, Atheiasmiledat Sidraeus, inviting more violence.
Emory whirled on Sidraeus with a hand to his chest. “Stop. You can’t kill her—that’sRomie.”
His ecliptic eyes pinned her in place. “I don’t care,” he snarled at her before launching another wave of power at Romie.
Emory realized she had no control over him. She’d made a bargain to bring him back, and because of this, he was bound to her, yet she had no real power over his actions. And now he was goingto kill her best friend. No. She wouldn’t let that happen.
Grabbing the ceremonial dagger Clover had used to kill the keys, Emory stabbed herself in the gut.
Sidraeusscreamed, stumbling back in pain as he searched his middle for a wound that was not there.
When an Eclipse-born is harmed, so too will he be,the souls of the Tidecallers had said.
