CHAPTER 28

Sunrise

Relief flooded through Fin. Even if she didn’t remember him, something inside Marrill still cared. Something still trusted him. They could still work together.

Through the gushing water, Serth let out a wail of triumph. The Stream funneled in ever faster. Fin could see odd bits of Marrill’s world coming down the pipes, changing in the magical flow even as he watched. He had no idea how much time they had left, but it wasn’t much.

Marrill hesitated, Map in hand. “Okay,” she said. “If we’re going to do this terrible, stupid, very dumb thing, let’s do it!” She unrolled the Map with a flick of her wrist, kneeling as she set it on the ground.

Fin crouched next to her, Key in hand. His fingers fit easily between the rays of the crystal sun as he lowered it. Already he could feel the parchment hum as it came alive.

“Wait,” Marrill said before he could touch it to the surface. He looked up, meeting her eyes. “I don’t remember you, but… thank you.”

Fin laughed. “If you remembered me, you’d be yelling at me for getting you into this in the first place,” he said, surprising himself. It wasn’t like him to take responsibility when he didn’t have to. Then he touched the Key to the Map.

The Map shook. Its surface buckled, just like it had on the Wall. Only this time, they wanted it to open. The ink thickened, the parchment morphed and grew. A long line split the paper in half. The arms of the crystal sun stretched, becoming handles.

The Gate was complete. And lying flat on the floor, staring up at them.

“If we open it, the rays are just going to blast the ceiling,” Marrill pointed out. “Which will burst the rest of the pipes, dousing us in Pirate Stream water.”

“And possibly turn us into wombats,” Fin finished. “Looks like we’re going to have to do a little more working together than I thought.”

She looked him straight in the eye and nodded. Fin felt a flood of warmth rush through him. For the time being, at least, she saw him again.

Marrill moved around to the top of the Gate and crouched, slipping her fingers underneath the edge of it. “It’s still light as paper!” Overhead, the sound of the Stream draining grew to a massive, overwhelming roar. “Get ready to open it,” she warned.

He gripped the handle. “Got it.” He held the Gate steady while Marrill lifted it high, bracing herself behind it until it was almost perpendicular to the ground.

“Okay,” Fin said. “Here goes everything.”

He yanked hard against the Gate’s handle, feeling it buckle beneath his hands. As light as lifting the Map had been, opening those doors felt unbearably heavy. He planted his feet and pulled as hard as he could.

The Gate creaked. Rays of light sliced the air. Wherever they struck, metal bent, stone melted, glass simply ceased to be.

“Tilt it higher!” Fin directed. He tried to angle the whole thing with one hand while holding on to the door with the other. The Gate felt like bronze and pencil lead beneath his fingers. His skin tingled, nearly itching.

The light of the Lost Sun struck the gears of the Syphon and scattered, reflecting tiny beams that drilled holes in the walls around them. Fin’s chest tightened as though grabbed by the Master’s steely fist. It wasn’t working.

But just as he teetered on the verge of despair, certain that not even the light of pure destruction could harm the Dawn Wizard’s Machine, a wrenching shriek filled the air. The metal glowed hot.

Fin pulled harder on the Gate to let more light out.

As each beam struck it, the Wish Machine resisted, sagged, then finally gave way. Gears snapped free and bounded across the floor. Pipes vanished in bursts of bright sparks. One of the big brass struts squealed and tore in half. Another followed.

With two of its supports severed, the platform at the heart of the Wish Machine sagged and tilted to one side. Through the continued shower of Stream water, Fin could just make out Serth and the Master swaying to stay balanced. He smiled a grim smile. The Oracle hadn’t foreseen this.

He tugged at the door, aiming the beams of the Lost Sun at another support. The deadly light sliced it in two and carved into the ceiling beyond, blasting a hole out to who-knew-where. The platform tilted further. The wish orb wobbled on its pedestal, a pendulum dangling from its thin golden thread.

“Quickly now!” Serth shrieked above the din. He held his arms out to either side for balance. A deep rumble sounded overhead.

Red lightning sparked through the air. The Master raised one hand, urging the tide to come faster. The other stretched out toward Fin and Marrill.

Everything moved in slow motion. “To the right!” Fin cried. A long, cruel finger leveled at him; in a moment, they’d be dead.

He threw the Gate open, not caring how much deadly light he let free. A spear of brightness pierced the rain of Stream water and struck the Master of the Iron Ship square in his chest. For a moment, the ghost in iron simply stood there, struggling against the Lost Sun of Dzannin, as if his will alone could outlast its power.

His white beard burst into flames. His black armor glowed red, then white-hot. His boots started to melt at the edges, sliding him backward. The Master struggled to step toward them, but instead he slipped, toppled backward, and fell over the side of the platform, into the Stream-filled basin below.

“One down!” Fin hollered in triumph. “Serth, you’re next!”

But the Oracle just shook his head wistfully, and stepped deliberately toward the light. Almost as if he wanted the light to strike him.

“What’s he doing?” Marrill yelled from behind the Gate. “Is he crazy?”

The Lost Sun’s rays smashed into the Oracle’s porcelain skin, flowed over and across it, and seemed to sink into his body. The sound that came from him was neither a laugh nor a cry, not a howl of pain nor a victory shout, but somehow all of those things at once. It scraped down the back of Fin’s spine and clawed at his stomach.

“Dawn, Sun of Dzannin!” Serth growled. “Light my path!” He moved himself fully between the Gate and the nearly filled wish orb.

Fin gave Marrill an uncertain glance. “I’m going to open it wider!” He hauled against the Gate with all his might. It creaked, then gave way, slamming open. The full light of the Lost Sun blasted out into the chamber, blinding him.

“Fill me with your power!” Serth bellowed. The Lost Sun’s rays poured onto the evil wizard, as if he were sucking it into himself.

“Uh-oh,” Fin murmured. The Oracle, blazing with light, descended the stone steps toward them. At his back, the Syphon was a ruin of jagged metal and shattered glass. A last bit of Stream water drizzled into the wish orb, then the flow was no more.

The orb, no longer gathering magic, dropped from the air, bounced down the steps, and rolled across the chamber. Serth paid it no mind. As he reached the final step, the whole platform groaned and collapsed into the basin below.

“Behold the power of destruction!” he snarled. The light of the Lost Sun formed a halo around him. The air crackled. Stone smoldered where he passed.

Fin met Marrill’s eyes. He could see his own terror reflected in them. He gulped. “I think we may have messed up.”