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If someone else is being cut down, at least it’s not you.

He’s right. I know he’s right … but so is Vesper. I can’t survive without allies. The Tower would have killed me last night without Death’s intervention. Earlier tonight, I wouldn’t have even made it out of the Cups tower if not for Vesper’s luck. Neither of us would have survived the Fool in the passageway if not for an attack by the Tower.

An alliance might not have been part of the original plan, but nothing has gone according to plan. I have to adapt—and quickly. With Cato, we’re a perfectly balanced trio. We might actually have a shot at winning.

“Kestrel,” Vesper whispers. “We’re almost to the door.”

As we reach it, I shift in front of them. “Wait a moment.” I pull the shadows up and over us, the deep darkness flowing around me like an old friend. Even before I entered the Trials, a deep shadow could be the difference between a successful grab and having to run for my life from a nearby Wand. How many nights have I spent crouched in the shadows, part of me praying the Moon turns Their eyes another way?

The night feels darker as we step through the door and back onto the street. Cato and the fighting must be moving away from us, because I can only catch glimpses of the bright lights of his attacks against the sky overhead. He’s created a literal beacon to guide us, intentional or not. There’s no more time for worrying about whether this is the right call. Now is the time for action.

I start down the street toward the sounds and lights of the fight, sticking close to the buildings in case one of the other champions is lying in wait to take advantage of our distraction. If they’re smart, they’re far from here, but we’ve already established that some of these champions—the Emperor, for example—are not particularly clever. If he survives the night, I’ll be surprised.

The slightest pressure against my palm has me looking back to find Vesper lagging. There’s no indication of their struggle in their expression, but I’m quickly learning Vesper is a vault when it comes to showing anything resembling vulnerability. I understand. When you move among predators, any indication of weakness is as good as kneeling in the street and offering your throat.

I slow a little, until they have an easier time matching my pace. Their limp is more pronounced than it was earlier this evening. How long until they’re in so much pain they can’t walk at all? And what will I do when that happens?

Leave them behind. Cut your ties. I shrug off Mouse’s voice. I gave Vesper my word that I’d ally with them tonight. In the Dregs, your word is all you have. If you make a habit of breaking it, your life tends to be even shorter than our normal life expectancy. No matter how reluctantly I made this alliance, I will keep my word. I won’t leave them behind.

A faint pressure begins beneath my skin, a sensation of someone dragging their fingertips where fingertips should not make contact. I flinch and look up, sure that we’re about to be attacked. Nothing. No one. My gaze alights on a particularly deep shadow where a taller building looms over the smaller one we’re nearly even with.

Being on the roof would be preferable.

Between one step and the next, the street goes liquid and strange. Vesper makes a choked noise, but we’re moving too quickly to stop. I tighten my grip on their hand and yank them down … only to find us crouching in the very spot I had focused on just seconds ago, many yards above where we had just been.

Vesper’s eyes are wide. “How did we get here?”

I’m still looking around wildly, still half sure this wasn’t me but someone pulling us off the street to attack. There’s no one in sight, though. No sense of danger beyond the frantic racing of my heart. “I don’t know.”

They lean forward, their face alight with excitement. “Do it again.”

“I don’t even know how I did it.” Even as I protest, I look across the street, seeking another dark shadow that calls to me.

Another blink, a tiny step forward, and we’re there. My head feels strange on my shoulders, reminding me of the winter a fever swept through the Dregs. It caught most of the littles, turned Mouse so corpse-like that I thought I’d lose him for sure, and then it came for me.

I couldn’t afford to rest. They couldn’t afford for me to rest. I was the last one standing, and if I had faltered, we all would have starved. Moving along the rooftops, attempting to snatch the purses within reach in the Peridot markets … my head felt a lot like it does now.

I press my fingertips to my temple, certain I can actually feel my heartbeat throbbing there. “I don’t know how many times I can do this.”

“I imagine it’s similar to how muscles work. You have to build up stamina and strength,” they muse. “It probably doesn’t help to tow me along with you.”

A scream in the distance, piercing and drawn out … until it’s cut off abruptly. We exchange a look. Before I can suggest we abandon this plan, a flare of light proves whoever was just hurt—killed—wasn’t Cato.

“Let’s keep moving.” We’re running out of time. Traveling twice is enough to leave me woozy; Cato has been using his magic to fight for much longer. If we want a chance at saving him, we have to hurry.

Vesper leads me along the rooftops in the direction of the fight. There are so many greenhouses taking up every bit of free space. They cast plenty of shadows to work with, but I find myself wondering if I misjudged the Minor Court, at least in part. They’re not wasting a single bit of precious sunlight. They’re not sharing the wealth, but they’re aware of how valuable the resource is. At least, assuming all these greenhouses are filled with fruit and vegetables. Considering the garden I walked through the first night, it’s entirely possible some of these contain flowers.

I have to travel through shadows twice more, each leaving me a little more lightheaded, but it gets us to a ladder leading up to the roof of a particularly tall building. From that vantage point, we finally see the fight. It’s … bad. Death and the Tower both circle Cato with their swords drawn. The storefronts around them are destroyed, glass littering the ground and small fires flickering down to embers. Like the majority of buildings in Caelria, these are made of stone, which is likely the only reason the fire hasn’t spread.

Cato looks terrible, sweat coating his dark brown skin and his shoulders sagging with exhaustion, his daggers held loosely in his shaking hands. Even so, he’s not giving up. Every time they attack, he dodges and sends out a bright beam of light to force them to dance back. He’s held his own until now, but surely that won’t last much longer.

What can we even do? No, damn it, that’s not a helpful line of thinking. Vesper and I are not without our tools, and we have no intention of joining the fight in a traditional way. We just need the opportunity to save him. Vesper starts to speak, but I hold up my hand. “Give me a second to think.”

As I watch, a clear pattern emerges. They’re trading off, Death attacking and retreating, and then the Tower doing the same. If they both attacked at once, surely they could overpower him or at least get close enough for Death to deliver some kind of wound. With Cato’s power, though, one of them would be injured—if not killed. Instead, their plan is clearly to wear him down and then strike when he’s too weak to be a true threat. It will happen soon. We’re running out of time.

“Shadows and luck,” I whisper. I tear my gaze away from the fight and look around. They’re at the intersection of five streets, which gives the champions enough space to fight. I just need it to work for me. We’re on the tallest building in the immediate area, far enough away that if we could get Cato up here, there’s little chance the Tower and Death could find us. The Tower could technically bring down the entire block with his magic, but he’s been very careful not to cause undue damage that would anger the Minor Court. He won’t destroy a building unless he can guarantee we’re in it.

“Shadows and luck.” Vesper nods. “We need to take him and run—or hide.”