That was the nature of dreams. They shifted as clouds did, taking on different shapes over time or disappearing entirely to make room for something else. Something better.
The old Baz might have dreamed of having Emory finally seehim andwanthim. But that dream had reshaped itself so that it was not Emory he saw in it, but Kai. The Nightmare Weaver who had always seen him, the most terrible parts of him,all of him, and had never abandoned him. The boy he chose to give his whole heart to, without ever questioning if he was enough for him.
Baz would always love Emory. But that love had softened to something else. It was companionship. Kinship. A bond he would always be grateful for and never take for granted. It was as if, when he’d watched Emory go through the door in Dovermere, the feelings he’d had for her had gone with her. And when she reemerged, they had changed just like she had.
A part of Baz did wonder how different things might have been if Emory had given him a chance back when they were younger. But dwelling on the past, on all the what-ifs, helped no one. Especially when his mind was fixed on saving the one who made up all of his new dreams.
So they’d shut the door on the what-ifs. Agreed that what theydidhave—this friendship that was more profound than any Baz had ever known—was enough for both of them.
A loud crashing sound pulled him from his slumber.
Baz reached immediately for his glasses. The room was suffused in the faint gray light of dawn. His mouth was dry from drinking all that moonbrew, and his mind struggled to wake, to process the scream he heard coming from somewhere in the safe house.
Footsteps and voices echoed in the hallway as people drowsily inquired about what was going on. Baz tore down the stairs with the rest of them, heart hammering, head throbbing, to find a panicked Emory kneeling over someone writhing in pain on the floor.
Sidraeus, his face distorted in anguish. The runes on his skin seemed to beburninghim, flashing bright silver.
“What is it?” Emory asked him, eyes wide with shock. “Whose pain do you feel?”
“Someone”—Sidraeus bit back a sob—“close.”
Emory looked desperately around to find the source of the Shadow’s misery. Just then, Virgil and Vera burst through the safe house’s front door, flushed and out of breath. Sand clung to their clothes as if they’d been lying on the beach, and Baz couldn’t help but notice that Vera was wearing Virgil’s sweater.
“There are people out there,” Virgil wheezed. “Just outside the wards. I think they’re badly hurt.”
“Who?” Jae asked with a worried expression.
“No clue. They were screaming for help.” Vera jerked her chin at Emory. “So we rushed back here to get it.”
Emory hesitated, still kneeling over Sidraeus. “Go,” he gritted out. They seemed to have some mental exchange before Emory pushed to her feet.
“Hold on.” Jae blocked her way with an outstretched arm. “This could be a trap.”
“If he’s in this much pain,” Emory said, pointing to Sidraeus, “then whoever’s out there is Eclipse-born.”
Jae swore, letting her through. Everyone rushed out of the safe house, Virgil and Vera leading the way with Emory close at their heel. The late winter skies were gray, the air thick with mist, the Aldersea a steely presence in the background. Three people were sprawled on the beach. Two of them seemed to be bent over the third, eerie dark shapes cutting through the mist.
Virgil stopped dead in his tracks when he was close enough to see their faces. “It’s Javier and Louis!”
Jae tore away from their group, running toward the two boys who couldn’t see or hear them through the wards, and parted the air like a curtain to lift the illusion. Javier and Louis turned toward them as everyone stepped past the wards. Both of them lookedlike they’d seen better days: Javier had a busted lip, and Louis’s pale brown curls were matted with blood. There was also a gash on Louis’s palm, and he was bleeding into a shallow pool of water. Bloodletting, Baz realized, to access his Healer magic. Because the third person was badly hurt, skin pale and emaciated.
For a moment Baz had a sense of déjà vu. Travers. Lia. Was this another body washed ashore? But no, not a body. There was life left in the young woman’s dark, glassy eyes. Her long black hair was sticking wetly to her skin, thin lips parted as she writhed in pain. She wore the plain, colorless clothes of those held at the Institute, Baz realized, and on her collarbone were traditional Luaguan tattoos like Kai’s. On her left hand was the Eclipse sigil, with the jaggedUof the Unhallowed Seal marring its surface.
And her skin, mangled and slick with silver blood, lookedwrongsomehow…
“Help her!” Louis yelled as tears ran down his face.
Emory was already at his side, working her own healing magic over the woman. But the woman’s limbs went still with a final spasm, her eyes fixed on the dawn skies above, and Baz knew it was too late.
“She’s gone,” Emory breathed, shoulders slumping. “I’m so sorry.”
Louis covered his face, breaking down in tears. To Javier, Baz asked, “Who was she?”
“That’s Professor Sao.” The answer came from Rusli, who stood with an arm around his Luaguan friend Sana, the two of them grief-stricken. “From Karunang College.”
One of the professors who had gone missing.
“Shedid this,” Javier seethed. “Romie. The Tides.”
