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The woman in the doorway screams, taking in the headless man on the ground, and my heart thunders. I jerk Sable behind a wagon, shoving her under it before me.

A swarm of people rush from the docks, and men in uniforms chase them our way. No, not men. Vampires with red eyes and long teeth glinting in the sun. Lycans with huge, broad bodies like mountains. It’s been hours since we fled our home, but the monsters who burned the Arcanum aren’t finished with their reign of terror.

I know I need to get Sable away from here, so in the middle of the chaos, we make a run for the piers. Breathless and aching, I pull her behind the wooden crates and fishing nets, tucking her face into my chest. Guards are ripping into the people who fight back, teeth tearing into flesh, steel blades slicing, necks twisted at awkward angles. Bodies fall as they are herding the compliant ones.

A guard in the distance is laughing. Lycan I think. “Traitors,” he shouts. “The mages were fugitives. Anyone who hid or protected them will be executed.” I press Sable’s face into my chest tighter to muffle her cry. There is no method to prove innocence or guilt; this isn’t justice, it’s a blood sport.

People storm onto the piers past our hiding place, some jumping off the end to escape the guards.

Then I hear it, a muffled, broken sound, barely louder than the crash of footsteps and shouts. Crying. It’s coming from somewhere on the pier, where prisoners are sometimes dumped and left.

Sable hears it, too, and she pushes against me to see where it’s coming from. Her eyes go wide, locking on a battered crate piled high with equipment and nets. The netting and crab pots on top move like something is trapped inside, just barely. More people surge past, but no one else notices.

The crying and wailing inside grows louder, and I can’t look away. A guard launches a man’s body, and he smashes into the crates. They teeter on the very edge of the pier. Sable’s scream splits the air, and before I even register what I’m doing, I’m reaching for it, hand stretched out, desperate to grab that crate before it tumbles into the sea.

There’s a jolt, a strange hot snap at my wrist, and I look down to see a band of gold magic, wild and alive, wrapping around me like a leash. I dig my heels into the mud, the magic yanking me forward, and I realize it’s not just around me. It’s stretched to the crate as well, holding it suspended, tilting dangerously over the water.

“Sable!” My voice is hoarse, my hand turning purple as the magic pulls tighter, burning under my skin. Sable grabs my arm and tugs, panic in her voice, but the cries from inside the crate grow louder and more desperate.

Sable scrambles over to the crate, bracing herself on a broken pole, looping her legs around it for balance. She leans over, reaching down with shaking hands. “It’s a girl!” she shouts.

“Help her!” I gasp, sweat stinging my eyes, and my hand pulses with pain as the magic sears my flesh.

Sable grits her teeth, stretching as far as she can, and finally grabs hold of a small arm, hauling the girl up and out of the crate just as my magic snaps. The crate crashes into the water below, splinters of wood and crab pots vanishing beneath the waves. I fall back hard, wind knocked out of me, staring at the sky for a heartbeat before I scramble up to find them.

Sable is kneeling beside the girl, maybe her age, pale and shaking, her legs tangled in fishing line. Sable works furiously, trying to untangle the knots, and I crawl over on hands and knees to help. I know this girl. I’ve seen her by the river near our home, always with her mother. She was never allowed to play with us, no matter how much Sable begged.

Her mother was from the Arcanum, and if this little had fled from the burning pyres as well . . .

“How did you get stuck?” I ask, fingers trembling as I work at the knots.

She hiccups, voice breaking. “They took my mom. We were in town when the guards came. She stuffed me in the crate and told me to hide and not come out until she returned, but the lines got tangled around my legs. I . . . I couldn’t move.”

My heart sinks. She doesn’t know yet.

Sable’s warm hand lands on my forearm. “Your nose. It’s bleeding,” she whispers.

I pull my arm up to wipe the warm tickle from above my mouth. “It’s fine.” I go back to working on the knots around the girl’s legs.

A man appears then, not from the boats, not in one of those hateful uniforms. His face is lined with concern as he kneels beside us, pulling a knife from his pocket and slicing at the knots of fishing line.

“I want my mom?” the girl sobs. I can’t tell if she knows this man.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Thalia,” she whispers.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ve heard that name before, little one.” His gaze flicks to the road, fear in his eyes as the guards’ shouts grow closer.

I grab Sable’s hand, adrenaline flooding back. “We have to go,” I hiss.

“But what about her?” Sable pleads, glancing at the girl, desperately.

“She’s with him. He’ll help her.”

My surroundings morph back to the present like no time at all has passed. The men are still laughing and shaking their heads as they load their dinghy, but my mind remains on how I was able to hold that crate. I remember the instinct of what I wanted and how my magic did the work for me. Like it answered.

“That wasn’t a request,” I state, becoming angry as they continue to ignore me.