“What do we do?” asked Kenzi as we slowly walked into the city.
Earlier in the day, Spiritrend was probably a beautiful place. Beyond the thick marbled walls and intimidating brass gate, sat the sort of city I’d only heard about in school or from the mouths of traders. Shops lined the entrance, built of stone and thick brick, with houses scattered between them, elegant gardens in front. It was nothing like Frosthaven, or even the Sanctuary for that matter.
But now, it was in shambles. How long had it been since the whole army scaled the walls? Minutes, at most. Yet one house had a charred roof and scorched bricks, whereas the one right next to it looked as if it’d been frozen in a block of ice.
And there were bodies.
At the foot of the massive brass gate and scattered about near the wall, some were torched and barely recognizable, others frozen in looks of terror. A handful of Conduits from the Sanctuary sprawled on the ground, hacked by swords and pierced by arrows.
The smell of burned flesh and spilled blood filled the air. I retched a little, stumbling forward and placing a hand against a home that hadn’t yet been ravaged.
“You’re all right, you can handle this,” Kenzi said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“What are they doing?” I asked. “Something clearly isn’t right”
The door to the home swung open, and a woman charged out, brandishing a sword, waving it madly back and forth. I jumped away, and Kenzi lit up, his skin crackling. The woman screamed inaudibly at us, angry and terrified, tears streaking down her face. She was Inked with runes I couldn’t quite understand, pulsing angrily with each swing.
Kenzi lifted his hand.
“No stop!” I yelled, grabbing him. He shocked me and I jumped back, holding both of my hands out at the woman. “Calm down,” I said as she swung the blade at me. “I said calm down! We aren’t going to hurt you!”
“Sure you aren’t!” she screamed and ran back closer to the house, standing in the doorway, sword held high. “I saw what you did to the guards! You’re all monsters.”
“I’m scared!” a small voice shrieked from inside.
“Stay inside, Britt!” the woman yelled, glancing back quickly into the home. “Don’t come out, whatever you do, don’t look!”
“Listen,” I said softly, holding my hands out, “I’m not going to hurt you. Did you see where everyone went?”
She didn’t say a word as she held the sword up high, her eyes fixated on Kenzi. I glanced over at him, his eyes bright white.
“Kenzi, stop it!” I said, quickly returning to look at the woman. I heard the energy fading, the lightning crackle as his energy faded away. “See? We don’t want to hurt anyone.”
She hesitated, his lips a thin, angry line on her mouth.
“Looked like they were heading to city hall, the center of town. That’s where the main road leads anyway. Lighting things on fire as they went.” Tears welled in her eyes. “If you’re really here to help, you better get going. And if you aren’t, I hope the Citadel shows you no mercy.”
With that she ran back into the house and slammed the door.
“Stay inside!” I shouted after her, and the curtains that lined her scorched windows closed shut.
Kenzi and I ran down the main street toward the center of the city. The screaming and sounds of battle had faded as we approached. Huge pillars of marble supported a golden-domed structure with oil-burning brass lamps illuminating a grotesque sight.
Citizens and guards sat in the middle of the square, my father and his army in a circle around them, their eyes looking over the cityscape, their power pulsing.
Kenzi and I shoved our way through the crowd. As we broke through the middle into the circle, I gasped at the men and women huddled within, tears streaming down their faces, caked with blood. The city guards were bound, looking resolute and fearless, looking defiantly at the Conduits. And there was my father, his Ink pulsing, blood splashed over his armor.
Blood that wasn’t his.
“Caenum,” my father said coolly, his tone stern and angry, “you’re supposed to be outside the walls, keeping guard.” Ryst was inexplicably standing next to him, her lip ring glowing red. She was smirking, as if she’d outsmarted us somehow.
“What is this?” I asked, waving my hand at all the people in the circle. “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” snarled Ryst.
“We’re taking this city,” my father said, again, his voice icy cold.
Something was off. His Ink, the broken lines that looked like cracked ice on his arms, pulsed with shades of cloudy white and cerulean. It was a stark contrast to the dark red splattered over his once-beautiful armor. His sword glimmered.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I said, feeling the anger and disappointment rush through me. “No one had to die here. Nothing had to be… what have you done?”
“These are the monsters that drove me from my home, Caenum,” my father snarled, the ground under his feet turning frosty. “We’ll take this city by force, and make it our own. A home for our people. A place where they don’t belong.”
He stepped toward one of the guards and grabbed him by the collar of his armor, hoisting him into the air. The man screamed and he began to shiver madly, ice forming at his feet and working its way up his legs. He looked over at me, eyes frosted, pleading for help.
“Don’t be fooled,” my father said, bringing the man closer. “These monsters don’t deserve mercy.”
A rush of anger flowed through me, pushed forward by waves of disappointment and shame. I raised my hands up and thrust them toward my father, sending a whirl of vines bursting through the earth. Some grasped the guard, others encircled my father and the nearby Conduits. I focused extra hard on Ryst, who squirmed madly. I felt the heat from her body as her energy tried to burn through the plants. I winced and roared.
“No!” I screamed at my father and faced the army, straining, my arms outstretched. “The Citadel. They are the monsters who drove all of you into hiding. They sacked and torched Frosthaven. My home. Your home!” I turned to face my father as I said this, watching him squirm angrily. “They spared no one, likely thinking the whole village was on your side. That we were with all of you. They were innocent and the Citadel thought they were hiding us. They murdered Grandmother, the woman who took you in, in the mad quest to hunt us down.”
“You want to free the citizens of the Realm? Show them we aren’t the enemy. We will not be like the Citadel. We will be better.”
I turned back to face my father and Ryst, who had stopped squirming. I started to lower them, the vines slowly uncurling, gently placing them on the ground. My father brushed himself off and then held a hand out against Ryst, who stepped forward, hands blazing.
“You’re right,” he said, nodding at me, his voice soft. “We won’t be like them. But you’re wrong about being better. We already are.”
With this he let loose a horrible roar that echoed through the square, his Ink bursting a mad bright blue. He lifted his hands into the air, and in a desperate attempt to stop him, I tried to will some vines back out of the earth once more, shoot them toward him, wrap him up again. They withered in the bitter cold, shattering to pieces. He smiled manically, his eyes white, and hurled a horrible blast of cold at the bound guards and unarmed citizens. And just as quickly the white light was gone, and frozen people lay scattered on the ground, trapped in glimmering, glittering prisms of ice.
He stomped his foot on the earth, and the people shattered. I took several steps back and bumped into Kenzi, who, like me, stood with his mouth agape.
“Foolish of me, really, to think my son could be a proper leader. You were raised, after all, by someone who would have told you to hide who you truly are.” He smiled and turned to his army. There was a loud rise of discontent among the Conduits. “The rest of you,” my father bellowed, the din silencing the crowd, “do as you’re told. Stand guard and secure the town . . .” He looked back at me and smirked, “What was it you had said? Ah, yes. And do it civilly.”
He climbed up the steps of the city hall and turned to face the army again. “In the meantime . . .” His face dropped, and his eyes went wide.
“The Citadel! They’re here!”
Chaos erupted as people began to drop, their arms and legs bound in Dampeners, the brass orbs and thick metal rope buzzing loudly. Before we could turn to face the oncoming attack, a legion of Citadel Guards wrapped in burgundy and gold cloaks, each brandishing weapons in one hand and swinging Dampeners in the other.
“Stick together!” roared my father as the army began to panic. “Free your Brothers and Sisters, continue to fight!” He turned to me and Kenzi. “I’ll deal with you two later. Go make yourselves useful and seal off the entrance.”
“Why should I?” I hollered back at him. He scowled and bared his teeth.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill your girl.”
“You leave Dreya out of this!” I shouted.
“You can’t mean that,” Ryst said, stepping away from my father and moving toward me and Kenzi, her fire going out in shock. She glared up at him, her face awash in disappointment. I stood there, feeling weak, his body glowing in the darkness, his Ink pulsing, intimidating and horrible.
“What was all of this? The time at Sanctuary, bringing us in? You . . . you used me!” I said, feeling the energy coursing through my body. “You used all of us!”
“And I’d do it again!” he roared. “Now do as I say.”
He began slinging thick blasts of ice in the direction of the guards, spikes impaling horribly into some, all while packs of Conduits dashed off. I turned away angrily, and Kenzi and I ran, working a roundabout way back to the entrance. I’d seen what the Citadel did to my hometown.
Kenzi and I ran, and I couldn’t determine who was worse: the people who murdered my family or my father.
“Caenum!” yelled Kenzi as our feet hammered the earth. “Your father . . . he’s . . . he’s a monster.”
“We’re going to stop him,” I said, looking ahead. “But first, we’ve got to stop the Citadel.”
A number of Citadel Guards were making quick work of the vines holding the brass gate shut, and I felt their blades angrily slicing into the vines. I winced and groaned, sucking air through my teeth, and with a wave of my hand, I eliminated the moss cushion at the base of the wall. The green shriveled up, turning a stark brown, and crumbled apart.
Several Citadel Guards, who were mid-leap, fell to the ground with a sickening crunch. My skin went hot and my insides curled around at the sight of their limp bodies, with arms and legs jutting out at unnatural angles. They didn’t move.
Still feeling queasy, I focused on the vines outside the wall. I felt them tear and rip themselves away from the stone, peeling and curling back until they touched the ground.
The Guards remaining on top of the wall began hacking at the chains and gears that were wrapped in vines. I winced and focused, but they continued to slice faster than I could regrow them.
“Kenzi, do something about that!” I shouted as he stood next to me.
“I can’t!” he said. “Look!”
I glanced up and spotted Rausch tearing across the top of the wall with two large hatchets in his hands. His leather armor was flayed, thick gashes and cuts covering his exposed chest and arms. Blood stained what was left of his now useless armor clinging to him weakly. Through it all, I finally saw the Ink he’d been so ashamed of.
It was beautiful.
Large runes pulsed and glistened, with streams of gold flowing over his body like a vein from a piece of ore. His silhouette gleamed against the growing night, the golden etchings on his body making him visible as he cut madly into the Guards on top of the wall, sending them plummeting down to the ground below. The Guards cutting at the vines swung at him, one slicing across his torso, another hitting his exposed leg. He squatted down to grasp his injury, and one of the Guards sauntered toward him as he lifted a mammoth ax that had been lying on the ledge.
“Caenum, do something!” Kenzi shouted. “If I shoot, I’ll hit the whole lot.”
“I’m trying!” I yelled at him. I had been. I kept focusing on the vines, trying to get them to attack, but they were moving too quickly. I couldn’t focus.
Rausch’s glowing body burned across the night, and as he stood, I forced a vine to scale up the wall to grasp him, and then he jumped, swinging both of his hatchets at the two approaching Guards, the blades embedding themselves deeply in their chests. They grasped at the hatchets, and fell to their knees as the life drained out them.
Rausch stood and looked back at the city. He spotted the vine creeping up the wall.
“Caenum?” he asked, shouting in my direction.
Before I could answer, a loud, hollow thunk echoed through the air, and Rausch grasped at his chest, a thick arrow sticking out of it. He tumbled forward, crashing to the ground.
“Rausch!” I screamed, slamming my hand into the ground in front of me. The vine swung around him and whipped him back harshly. Kenzi and I rushed toward him, his body limp on the ground. He looked at us, a grin on his battle-hardened face.
“Rausch!” I said, trying to lift him up. He groaned and fell back to the ground. “Oh Rausch, what did they do to you?”
“You should”— he stammered, coughing—“see the other guys.”
“It’s okay,” said Kenzi, his hands darting about, unsure of what wound to focus on. There were cuts, so many gashes, and a thick arrow sticking out of his chest, close to his heart. “We’ll—we’ll get Dreya! We’ll take you back, it’ll be all right.”
Rausch smiled softly, a thin line of blood trickling from his mouth.
“It already is all right,” he said, coughing. “This is what I wanted when I ran away. Some glory. Some . . . some damn freedom.”
More screams echoed from inside the city.
“Go,” he said. “Your father’s mad. Stop him.” The pulsing of his Ink started to fade, the bright golden hue turning a dim canary color, starting to grow dark.
“Rausch!” I yelled, shaking his shoulders. The Ink lost its luster and faded to black as he exhaled deeply one last time.
“Damn it!” Kenzi said, leaping to his feet, bursting with lightning. “I’m going to kill them! I’m going to kill all of them!” He ran back toward the sounds of screaming and magical explosions. I closed Rausch’s eyes and bolted after Kenzi, then stopped to turn around. With a wave of my hand, I wrapped Rausch’s body in vines and shrubbery. I was going to return him to the Sanctuary and honor him properly.
Kenzi was hurling himself toward the city hall. He was several feet ahead of me, dodging left and right, avoiding the same thick arrows that had struck Rausch. I felt as though I was being drained as each arrow zoomed by, and I wondered if they were infused with the same sort of Dampening power.
“Caenum look out!” I heard Tabor’s call, and I found myself crashing to the ground. A Citadel Guard had leaped from a nearby roof, a blur of maroon and gold. I gritted my teeth and slammed a hand onto the soil below me, sending tendrils flying up around the Guard. The vines spooled around his torso but weren’t quick enough. With a flourish of his hand, he plunged a dagger into my chest, runes etched onto the blade and handle.
I couldn’t even scream.
The pain flowed through my body in horrible waves, and I felt my vines wither away, crumbling into dried-up twigs and breaking apart. The Guard wore a sadistic smile, his eyes an unfeeling blue. I felt like I had just crumbled, watching my energy flow out of me in thick wisps of black smoke, filling a glass canister on the terrible dagger.
“No!” I heard Tabor roar. The Guard was thrown off me and sent tumbling across the ground, crashing against one of the homes along the road. As his body flew off of mine, he kept his grip on the dagger, tearing it from my chest. I gasped and screamed, pressing my hands to the warm blood pooling out over my fingers.
I was shaking violently, uncontrollably. Off to the side, Tabor was pummeling him mercilessly, his once-beautiful fur cloak soaked with blood and filth.
The man had done some damage.
Kenzi ran back over and squatted down, clearly unsure of what to do with his hands.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he said again and again. “Caenum, tell me what to do! Tell me what to do!”
There were a lot of things I wanted to tell him.
I wanted to tell him to go fight, to keep the battle raging. To make sure he got Rausch’s body back home, buried him properly. Maybe even make sure he said kind, wonderful things about the man, how he wanted to live freely, how he had wanted, like all of us, to have a choice. How he made his own way, and how it was the right one. I wanted him to find my father and his army, remind them why they were here, free the city. Stop him.
I wanted to tell him to not give up on Ryst. That underneath that hardened, unruly, unforgiving shell, there was something good. Despite the fights with her, the arguments . . . I knew there was something wonderful there. Someone wonderful.
I wanted him to tell Dreya I was sorry I wasn’t coming back.
That . . .
Oh Gods.
That I loved her.
I reached up to him, one hand still firm against my own chest, and tried to say these things but found myself choking and watched, horrified, as a large bubble of saliva and blood burst from my mouth, and I felt it spatter across my face.
In the distance the battle raged on, the chaos illuminated under the few remaining street lamps and glow of burning homes.
The world began to go out of focus. Sounds grew fainter. Kenzi’s voice, shouting, was a soft din, slow, full of echo.
I saw Dreya and I, as kids, running through the fields beyond my grandmother’s house, holding hands and laughing as we scooped up flowers. I saw my grandmother in the kitchen, holding up a spoonful of stew, wafting the fragrant steam toward her face, making sure everything was just right, while I peeked out of my bedroom, waiting. There was my father, hugging me close, his thick black hair masking my entire head. I saw things I had never seen before, images of my father peering into my grandmother’s cottage during the first Glacialis, saying his good-byes, Dreya discovering her Magic and looking hesitantly out her window, my mother crying as my father left us.
But mostly, I just saw Dreya.
Our first trip to the waterfall outside of Frosthaven, me walking precariously at the top of the falls, trying to snag a rare plumeria flower in an attempt to impress her.
Press down!
Dancing in the town square, her hair lit up like a halo in the glow of soft lights.
Keep the pressure on!
The first time she held my hand, after we had wrestled in the meadows and fell to the ground, exhausted, and her fingers found themselves intertwined with mine. That time we almost kissed outside my grandmother’s house, in the meadows when they were golden, before they had burned.
Gods damn it, Caenum, fight!
The first time I . . .
Fight!
The first time we . . .
FIGHT!
Then I opened my eyes.
And she was there.
“Kenzi, press harder!” Dreya screamed, her voice far away. She was a blurred shadow with blots of light and darkness. I saw Kenzi looming, and I felt pressure on my chest. There was another set of hands pressing down on me as well, and they felt warm. Something was pushing out of them, flowing through my body, concentrating on horrible pain in my chest.
Dreya’s hands.
But what was she doing here?
“It’s working! He opened his eyes!” Dreya yelled, pressing harder. I squinted, the light from her hands piercing the dark.
“Hurry with that, sweetheart!” I heard Tabor yelling nearby. “The fighting hasn’t exactly stopped out here.” I heard Tabor yell, then a thunk, and an agonizing groan. “Now that was messy!” he said, the hint of a laugh behind his voice. “Griska, come help me out over here! Where’s Rausch?”
What was Griska doing here? I coughed, and felt my heart sink in my chest at the thought of Rausch, and tried to speak.
“No, don’t,” muttered Kenzi, almost whispering to me. “We’ll tell them later. Come on now, time to get up.”
“We shouldn’t rush him,” said Dreya, her hands moving away from me, the warmth fading from my skin, replaced by a dull aching in my chest where the dagger had pierced me. “Caenum, can you get up? How do you feel?”
“Dreya,” I muttered, blinking my eyes madly to try and bring the world back into focus, trying to adjust from the golden light from her hands, the fires around us, and the dark, blackened sky. “What are you doing here? What happened to Sanctuary?”
“Sanctuary is fine. The Citadel sent a pack of scouts, and Griska, myself, and a couple of others took their uniforms and headed here. We were trying to find you.”
“Looks like you did just in time,” Tabor said, lumbering over. “He looks pretty good, don’t he, Griska?” he said, a soft smile on his face. Griska loomed over me and grinned, nodding. “Now come on, boy, get up. Seems like your damn father lost his mind. Battle isn’t over yet; time to do some more damage.”
Kenzi and Tabor lifted me to my feet, and I shook off the grime and filth from the Citadel Guard. His body laid in a heap down the alley. I grimaced as I looked over at him, broken and still.
“Don’t feel bad for that guy, Caenum,” Tabor said, winking at me and giving me a nudge with his arm. “Not a nice fella. Heard he stabbed this nice kid once.” I looked down at my chest, the tear through my armor and the horrible scar that remained. It was thick and discolored, jagged and ugly. Probably as healed as it was going to get.
I grimaced as I ran my fingers over it and turned to Dreya.
“Dreya, I . . .”
“We sure do have bad timing, don’t we?” she said, smiling. “Come on, let’s—”
“No,” I said with a sweep of my arm, “I have to say . . . I have to . . .Dreya, if—”
“That can wait, kids!” Tabor shouted, bounding off after the voice, heading back toward the center of the city. “Let’s go!” We all chased after him, Griska and Kenzi followed close to me, and I kept stealing glances at Dreya, her eyes focused, her mouth a thin line.
This wasn’t the same girl who broke down at the sight of her home burning. She radiated strength, glowed with power. Her gaze was determined. Courageous.
For the first time since we left home, I felt like we could take on anything, as long as we were together.
Which was good, considering the square surrounding city hall was an absolute war zone.
We pushed our way through throngs of people, stopping only to blast a couple Guards aside before plowing our way back to the center of town, where things seemed the most heated.
Amid all the fighting, right in the center of the town square, was my father, battling fiercely. Some of the Conduits were attacking one another, and my father shot shards of ice at any who dared to charge him.
Just as we came into my father’s range of vision, he spun around and stared at us with glowing white eyes. He laughed a horrible, hollow roar.
“You’ve got to stop this!” Tabor bellowed. “This is not what we’re here for!”
“They took my home! My family! Everything!” my father roared, sounding more animal than human. “And not just the Citadel. These . . . humans.” He spoke as if he wasn’t one, sending a chill down my spine. “Standing by and watching it happen, watching others suffer, it’s just as bad as committing the crimes themselves.”
“This is different!” Tabor shouted over the explosions. “They didn’t know!”
“Father! Please!” I shouted.
“They’re no different!” my father screamed, sending a shard of ice through a man, his limp body hurling through the air and crashing into a building some distance away. “And clearly none of you are either. Not you Tabor. Not Griska. Not my own son.” He held his hands up, a white mist pooling around them, as the air grew colder.
Suddenly I was pushed aside as Griska charged madly at my father, bursting in between me and Tabor. He lifted his sword, the hilt glittering, reflecting the blinding white light. He swung just as my father shot a blast of cold at him, the Magic crackling down Griska’s sword, freezing it. Griska dropped it without so much as a scream, though I could see his hands and forearms discolored immediately with frostbite. Despite this, he continued his charge, barreling right into my father. He knocked him down and then crashed limply to the ground.
“Griska!” I shouted, as his body crumbled on the earth. I glanced at Dreya, who ran over, and I watched as her hands quickly changed the coloring of his dying skin.
I walked toward my father, who lay sprawled on the ground, and noticed the strange silence. The fighting had ceased. What was left of the Citadel Guard seemed to be either dead or wounded. Conduits paused, fixated on the scene unraveling before their eyes. I passed by Griska’s sword, which now looked more like a giant icicle, and stood over my father.
“Father?” I asked, pensively.
A blast of cold exploded from his body and he leaped to his feet. I started to fall back, and he reached out, grasping me by the neck.
“What . . . what are you doing?” I said with a gurgle. Harsh waves of freezing wind battered my body, and my skin felt as though it was hardening, turning to ice, losing all feeling.
“No one”—he growled through gritted teeth—“is going to stop me from getting my revenge. Not the Citadel. Not your friends. And certainly not you.”
“You,” I choked, “you used me.”
“You have a choice, Caenum.” His voice was frighteningly calm despite the scene unfolding before us. Tell your friends to join me. We’ll rid the Realm of every last Inked commoner. We’ll let them taste our fire, experience our cold. We’ll make this a land where none of us have to be afraid anymore, a place for Conduits and no one else.”
My eyes darted back to Kenzi, who stood ready to pounce, his eyes glowing, his hands pulsing with power, and to Dreya, who was now cradling a woozy, but alive, Griska. She was frowning, sad, and shook her head lightly, her eyes full of urgency.
“Mnn . . . ,” I tried to speak, gasping.
“I can’t hear you, Caenum,” my father said, loosening his grip a little.
I thought of the sacking of Frosthaven. The bodies in the streets, and my grandmother, crushed beneath the roof that once kept us safe. I thought of Dreya’s family, broken and brutalized, their bodies shattered like the glass that fell upon them. The wild, unforgiving horrible men like Vikash, whom I now saw in my father. I thought of Rausch and his sacrifice as he glowed against the night.
I looked into this man’s eyes, once familiar and now foreign. This was not my Father.
And I spat in his face.
“Never.”
My father hurled me at the ground. I hit it hard, unable to conjure anything to soften the impact. I turned to scramble to my feet, only to see my father with a massive ice spike hovering above his palm like a floating lance. He lifted his arm to strike, and then screamed as the rush of cold air around him suddenly dissipated, and he fell to his knees.
I looked at him, stunned, and the hatchet buried in his chest.
I turned to see Tabor lowering his arm, a sullen look on his face. He walked over slowly and stood over my father.
“Why,” said Tabor, kneeling down and placing a hand on my father’s shoulder, looking at him resolutely. “All the years we’ve known each other, worked together . . . for this?” He gestured at nothing in particular, around at the burned-out city. “This is what we sacrificed for? Bled over?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” muttered my father, his head lolling back and forth, his vibrant blue Ink fading. “None of you.”
“Make me understand!” Tabor screamed, shaking him.
“Tabor, stop it!” Dreya yelled, bending down and pressing her hand firmly to my father’s chest. Her hands began to glow intensely.
“What are you doing, girl?” Tabor yelled, attempting to grab her hands. She pushed him away and pulled Tabor’s small ax out of my father’s chest. My father let loose a loud gasp and slumped forward, his Ink fading faster.
“I said, what are you doing?” Tabor demanded, stepping forward again. Kenzi stepped in front of him and held up a hand.
“I’m not being like them,” Dreya said, curtly. The glow from her hands pulsed brighter.
“Hold still,” she said softly to my father. “Let me help you.”
“Dreya—” Tabor started to protest as Kenzi rushed over.
“Remember what Caenum said earlier?” Kenzi mused, crossing his arms.
“We need to be the better people,” she said. “What would Caenum’s grandmother have done? What would my parents have done?”
“Do it.” Tabor sighed.
“I wasn’t asking.” Dreya closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, looking as if she was straining. The gold light from her palms burned brightly. Her eyes, always that amber hue, began to glow in the same fashion. I found myself squinting at her, and other Conduits shielded their eyes. And as quickly as it had begun, she stopped, leaving spots dancing in front of my eyes. She backed away from my father, gasping loudly.
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand. It’s like he won’t let me,” Dreya said, stammering. My father’s Ink had slowed and faded to solid black now, but he kept breathing, shallow, long breaths. He glanced up at us with his steel-blue eyes.
“Our people. They’re yours now, boy,” he said nodding at me, his voice low and soft. “Good luck.”