“Levitas!” I screamed, dragging every drop of moisture from everything near, from the earth, even from my own mouth. Water erupted beneath us like a fist punching upward. The pressure slammed into my ribs, crushed the air from my lungs, but we were moving up instead of down.
We burst into gray light, flying upward for only seconds before I cut off the magic, and we were falling again. This time, several feet away from the hole in the earth. My shoulder cracked against something hard. Pain shot down my arm. But I could wiggle my fingers, could feel my toes.
Not dead. Not broken.
I lay there gasping, staring up at the magical barrier while my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My legs felt like water.
Not dead. Not broken.
Not even solid.
Wickett was already standing, both swords in hand, dripping wet but able to move like nothing had happened. He stared down at me with gray eyes that held something sharp and unreadable. “You saved my life.”
I rolled over and spat blood. My tongue had found my teeth on the way down. “Don’t get used to it.”
I hated this moment. Hated he’d seen what I could really do when desperation stripped away control. That kind of magic required more than clever words and careful planning, and it would draw too much fucking attention.
We stood in the center clearing where the five passages had once been. Where, in the distance, the crown probably still waited on its pedestal, untouched and gleaming. But the passages were still sealed. And with only a subtle shift in the wall, Katarina emerged.
Blood trickled from her nose. Her hands shook with the effort of maintaining control over the maze. “I never wantedthis, Syneca. They said participate or die anyway. At least this way I choose how.”
“Kat—”
Wickett moved like an unnatural blur. Too fast. Not the steps I’d seen when he was clearing a path. This was something else entirely. The Ripper unleashed, both blades singing as they cut through air. No hesitation. No mercy. Just inevitable death walking on two legs.
“No!” I gasped.
His first blade took her across the throat. The kind of strike that ended things before pain could register. His second followed a heartbeat later, ensuring she’d never rise again. Katarina’s eyes found mine as she fell. No accusation there. No blame. Just acceptance.
I fell to my knees beside her, taking her hand. We weren’t close. I couldn’t name her favorite color or what she dreamed about. But I knew her in the way all witches knew each other, through the weight of surviving. I could pick her out in a crowd of thousands because we carried the same exhaustion, made the same impossible choices, understood what it cost to keep breathing. “You’re not alone. And you were brave, and smart and strong.”
And then suddenly I remembered why I hated the Ripper. Why there could never be anything more than hate. Because no matter how kind I was, no matter the empathy I tried to draw from him, he would always be a monster.
“I’m sorry,” Kat whispered.
Sorry. For what?
For fighting back? For not dying quietly? For betraying Vitoria? For daring to exist in a world that had never wanted her?
But those were the final words on her lips, as she released her grip over the thorny bushes and drew her final breath.
“May ashes carry you home,” I whispered.
Wickett watched from a few feet away, cleaning his blades with mechanical precision. “She would have killed you.”
“She was already dead the moment they put her here.”
“All of us are dead. The only difference is timing.”
I stood, wiping my hands on my cloak. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“It’s supposed to be honest.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned away from him, headed for the pedestal holding the crown. I needed an escape. I needed to get away from him. I needed... Silas. And Calder. And Vitoria.
One foot after the other, I pushed through the hedges, letting them rip at my clothing. Letting them slice into the exposed skin on my cheeks and neck. Letting those slices remind me that I still felt things. I still had a heart, even though it ached. But when I stepped into the clearing, with Wickett close behind, thanks to the godsdamned tether, I stumbled. All three artifacts were here.
Footsteps came from a reopened passage. Felix burst into the clearing next, his hunter uniform torn and bloodied, eyes wild with desperation. He saw the artifacts and lunged for the blade without hesitation.
