“I said I’m fine.” Logan has thatlookin his eyes that says he’s already decided, and nothing will change his mind.
But no. I’m not okay with this. Not one bit.
“You want to be a self-sacrificing idiot?” I shove myself away from what’s left of the forward mast and move to the center of the deck, pushing through the dizziness that’s rushing through my head. “Fine. But I’m not going to sit here and watch everyone die while the sun tries to murder us.”
“Then what, exactly, are yougoingto do?” he asks.
“I’m going to use my storm magic.” I plant my feet on the deck, staring up at the endless mocking blue. “Because storms have rain, and we need water.”
Evie pushes up to her feet. “You can’t summon a storm from nothing,” she says, her scrunched brow making it clear that her analytical brain is already racing. “The atmospheric manipulation required—the pressure systems, the moisture content—you’d need to affect weather patterns on a massive scale. That’s fundamentally different than calling lightning from an already cloudy sky.”
“I know it’s different.” I meet her eyes, and the concern there makes my chest ache. “But T didn’t give me a manual. Everything I know about my magic, I’ve figured out by accident or through training with Logan. Maybe this will just be a bigger accident.”
“Or maybe you’ll kill yourself trying.” She moves closer, her expression fierce. “You’re exhausted. We all are. If you push too hard?—”
“If I don’t push, we die anyway.” I gesture at the empty water barrel, at the blazing sun, and at the ocean stretching in every direction. “At least this way, we’ll have a chance.”
Logan’s jaw works like he’s fighting himself, and when he finally nods, it’s reluctant.
“Be careful,” he tells me. “And if it starts going wrong, you stop.”
“I promise.”
The lie tastes like ash.
From the way he nods, I can tell he doesn’t fully believe me.
But what he thinks right now doesn’t matter. What matters is that I do everything I can to create a storm that will save us all. So, I close my eyes and reach for the place inside myself where the lightning lives, picturing T in my mind— wild dark hair that never stayed still, storm-gray eyes that could turn electric blue mid-sentence, and that mischievous grin she’d flash over her shoulder before takeoff, like she knew the sky was hers and she was just letting the rest of us borrow it.
Okay, T. Tempest. Whatever you want to be called. Circe said you’d come to me when you decided the time was right. Well, your chosen champion is about to die of thirst in the middle of a magical ocean that wants to keep me here for all eternity, so if there’s ever a time to help, it’s now.
Nothing.
Of course there’s nothing. T’s been silent since she star touched me and dropped me off at the Hydra trial.
She’s not going to rescue us. I’ve been on my own since she touched my forehead and walked away. The only difference between then and now is that back then I couldn’t control it, and I didn’t know enough to be angry about it.
I’m not the same person I was all those weeks ago. That girl waited for permission, waited for answers, and waited for someone to tell her what she was. This version of me has killed hellhounds, survived a six-headed sea monster, and watched people she cared about die while trying to save them.
If T won’t send rain, I’ll make my own.
So, I take a shaky breath, picture the glass sphere in my chest, and shatter it.
The electricity answers immediately, flooding my veins with silver light. Wind stirs across the deck, warm and restless, ruffling the sails for the first time in hours. The pressure changes against my eardrums the way it does before a real storm.
I grab onto that shift in pressure and pull, dragging my magic upward like I’m physically hauling the clouds into existence. My arms lift, my fingers spread, and lightning crackles between them as I shove every ounce of power I have at the empty sky.
The sun keeps beating down, and the clouds don’t come.
But I won’t accept defeat. So, I dig deeper, pulling electricity from my bones, my blood, and every cell that’s ever sparked. I picture storm clouds forming, rain falling, and the sky cracking open the way it did when I killed the hellhounds on the hillside.
Come on.Come on.
“Jade,” Logan says from somewhere nearby, tight with worry. “Stop.”
“I can do this,” I say through gritted teeth. “Just give me a minute.”
I keep trying until my arms are shaking and my vision’s spotting at the edges, but the sky remains stubbornly, mockingly blue.
