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This can’t be a good sign.

The statue starts to teeter.

“Oh god,” I say. “Everyone back! Back!”

The crowd hesitates and the statue heaves forward.

“Back! Now!”

Pandemonium erupts. People shove into one another, hurrying to escape the radius of the impending destruction.

I’m at the head of the crowd watching as the statue falls in slow motion, as Tin stands back, the axe dropped to his side, his chest heaving as sweat pours down his face.

When the statue falls, dust and debris swell up in a mushroom cloud, turning the already dark Hollow darker still.

Shouts and cries ring out, but when the dust finally settles, it’s clear no one was hurt.

Thank the gods.

Tin walks forward, dragging his axe behind him.

The crowd goes quiet.

“The Wizard has lied to all of you.” His voice booms across the square. “He isn’t great and powerful. He couldn’t even save his own brother.”

Gabriel.

He didn’t survive.

A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck.

This is my doing.

A murmur of confusion ripples through those gathered.

“And I am just as powerless,” Tin says.

His words are devoid of emotion, but even heartless, I can hear his desire to feel grief.

He drops his axe to the cobblestones. “I give this to anyone worthy of it. I have no more use for it.”

And then he turns and walks away.

There is a moment where the crowd holds itself back, as the Tinman disappears down the next street, as those who remain try to decipher what this all means.

And then, a frenzy.

People jostle one another trying to get to the Tinman’s axe. A boy, half my age, struggles to lift it, but it doesn’t budge.

A burly man with a beard that hangs down his chest tries his hand and fails.

A woman with large hoop earrings and bright red lips wraps her hands, plants her feet, and yanks to no avail.

This goes on for a long time, people trying their turn for glory and power.

My feet move me forward. Step by step.

I watch with a trill of anxiety fizzing in my chest with every person who steps forward and tries their hand.