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Blood pools at my feet. Screams echo against the walls. I don’t know how I didn’t hear them sooner. And then I do.
“How dare you,” Cadence says. “You know nothing. You’re powerless. Your plans are worthless.”
Her unexpected attack heightens the unreality of the scene. At the far end of the chaos-filled pipe, Ravel splashes through the barrier with a ragged gasp and seizes the nearest warm body. His golden eyes are wide, teeth bared. He catches my gaze for a single desperate heartbeat. Then he throws himself backward, vanishing with his human cargo.
My gaze stutters from one horror to the next, unable to take it all in. There’s a crush of people massed from one side of the oversized pipe to the other—people who should’ve crossed over by now. Churning in their midst are dark whirlwinds of destruction, the Mara, gleeful in unobstructed carnage.
How are they here? I thought—they weren’t supposed to be able to come down this far . . .
A double-thick line of enforcers stands between us, arms locked. A human fence. One peers over his shoulder at me, mask askew, goggles missing, his strikingly familiar face sick with desperation. It’s Haynfyv—Refuge Force inspector and the younger brother of Ange’s lost lover.
She cries out and reaches for him—seeing, as I did at first, his brother in his face—only to be shouldered aside when he turns back to his duty. I settle her against a wall, alarmed at the feebleness of her protests.
Then I hurl myself at the enforcers. If I can just break their line—
“You can do nothing. You are nothing,” Cadence’s voice is biting. “This is all your fault.”
The uniforms are tough, armoured against my efforts. Without a weapon, I can do little more than annoy them. An elbow whips back, doubling me over. A blow to my head knocks me to the floor. The enforcer who delivered it breaks ranks to follow up with a kick to my midsection.
I lift with it to deflect the force and snag him behind the knee with one hand. His arms windmill. He takes his neighbour down with him, distracting the rest of the squad enough for the line to waver.
But when I renew my attack, they are prepared. Ravel splashes through the barrier and shouts, drawing their attention—and that of the Mara—long enough for me to wrestle free of their grasp. But there is a minefield of monsters and helpless refugees between us, and I’m more relieved than hurt when he grabs the nearest upright body instead of trying to free me. Ravel drags the lucky refugee away to the other side, and whatever measure of safety can be found outside of this hellhole, without a backward glance.
Cadence snorts. “He can’t save them all. You do realize all you’ve done is herded all Refuge’s troublemakers into a convenient killing ground, right?”
My knees sag at the thought. I glare at the enforcers’ backs to keep myself from looking past them. I can’t stand to see their faces—strangers, children, friends—as they fall to the Mara. I’m desperate to block out the fangs and talons and the flash of hungry, victorious eyes as the monsters glory in destruction and gloat over my failure.
And it is my failure. I saved the innocents once before. I should have been the one to do it again.
I came back to lead them without any magic to draw on at all. I can’t even help Ravel transport them across the barrier—the one they followed him to, trusting we had a plan.
Something inside me twists, wrenching the strands that hold me together until I feel like I’m tearing in two. I’m meant to save them—
“You can’t,” sneers Cadence.
I have to save them. More than that, I want to. In this moment, it is all I want. It’s all that matters.
I dive against the line of uniforms with every ounce of skill, and energy, and determination I have. The faces of the refugees trapped on the other side turn to me, hope dawning amidst their terror and anguish. I tear at the human barrier in a frenzy that rivals the Mara, biting and scratching when all else fails to break through. It stretches to the breaking point—
“It won’t be enough,” she croons, soft and cruel. “You know you’re not powerful enough. You can’t do this on your own.”
Still, I wrestle against the enforcers, lashing out when I can, letting my weight drag against their strength when I can’t. There is a sudden rush, a wheeling spin as the uniforms give way. I stumble into the midst of the desperate crowd they’ve been holding back.
But it’s a feint. I’m seized and yanked backward only moments after breaking through.
The pitch of the screaming heightens. The refugees batter with renewed energy at the human barrier, seeing what little hope they had snatched away. I call out, warn them back. They’re better off fighting through that monstrous minefield toward the barrier and the slim chance of Ravel’s rescue.
A blow to my head blurs my vision. When I shake off the stars and look out over the crowd again, everything has gone still.
Even the Mara have paused their destruction, whirling in place as the few victims who can still move stagger or crawl out of their path. The air is heavy with whimpers and moans, and the soft plash of blood and seawater.
Ravel’s footsteps squelch as he makes his way through the crowd.
I risk another blow to shout him away, but he doesn’t even glance at me as he bargains with the enforcers for my freedom—and when that fails, my life. The crowd behind him shifts and wails, aware that, whatever happens, their doom is all but assured.
“He could have saved more if you weren’t here,” Cadence whispers. “Even a reject like him could have managed to make a difference if it weren’t for you.”
I turn my head to shut out her cold tones and catch sight of Ange, limp in the arms of her captors. She’s not fighting back. I’m not sure she’s even conscious.
I close my eyes, muting Ravel’s traitorous negotiations, and Cadence’s loathing, and my own misery. Then, finally, I force myself to examine the carnage for familiar faces. Ange is, if not all right, at least alive. But Lily, Sam, Amy, the not-quite strangers I’d met in Under—how many had Ravel managed to save before the Mara descended?
Not all the bodies—or parts of bodies—strewn across the floors were full-grown. He hadn’t even managed to get all the children out safely.
But neither do I recognize all the faces. I don’t spot Lily or her mother amongst the living or the dead. That has to count for something.
At least on the other side they have a chance. Maybe the dreamwalkers from Nine Peaks will find them and get them safely through the mountains. Maybe Lily will grow up safe and strong, and some good will come of all this.
“They’ll just be eaten by different monsters,” Cadence says. “They’re worse off, stuck out there with no protection and no idea of how to survive. You only ever break things.”
I don’t argue with her. Ravel is walking away, defeated in his negotiations. He’s giving up.
But not on me. I scream at him to stop. Some few, brave refugees move to block his way, before the Mara take them. He trudges on through the carnage, head down, shoulders set.
“All your fault,” Cadence singsongs.
He goes slowly into the barrier, giving his limbs to it with the same reluctance I’d feed my own to acid.
And then he’s gone—and I pray he won’t return.
Because the price he has just agreed to pay for my release is the return of every soul he’s taken across that barrier. And I am under no illusion what will happen to every last one of us when he finishes returning those we have stolen.