hit the cavern floor with a deafening clang that knocked Sara to her knees. She fell hard, too stunned to catch herself, and then curled in a ball, her face inches from the dirty water as the silent tide poured out. The water hit the ring made by Banage’s roots with a soft rush, but otherwise there was no sound at all.

If Sara had not known already, she would have had no hint that her life’s work, the great discovery that had launched every other, was draining away. Ollor was somewhere in that flood, but she didn’t call him. She’d given up that bond long ago, just as she’d given up another.

When Sara raised her eyes at last, Banage was standing over her. His face was hard, set in firm approval at the rightness of his actions, the justification of his wanton destruction.

“You have no idea,” she whispered, staring up. “No idea at all what you just destroyed. What you’ve done.”

“None of us know the full extent of our actions,” Banage replied. “But I know I was right, Sara. I know I was right.”

And it was those words, spoken with such conviction, such blind, mindless faith, that undid her.

“Right?” she screamed, heaving herself off the ground. “You’ve undone the work of nations, set us all back decades, and all you can say for yourself is that you were right? Right by what? Some water that won’t even remember to thank you? Do you even understand the concept of the greater good?”

“Good built on exploitation is no good at all,” Banage said calmly. “And you know it.”

He would have kept preaching forever, but Sara didn’t give him the chance. The moment he closed his mouth, she threw open her spirit.

It had been a long time since Sara had opened her spirit fully. She preferred more delicate instruments, and besides, opening her spirit in the presence of the tanks would undo all the effort she’d put into keeping them quiet. But Banage was a blunt man. Blunt tactics were needed, and the tanks were already broken beyond repair. So, with nothing left to lose, Sara threw herself open and let her power pour out, doubling and tripling until she filled the room.

Sensation flooded through her. She could feel the weight of the stone, the heat of Banage’s fire bird, the cold water of her broken tanks. More important, though, she could feel the lines of power, thin as thread but stronger than steel, connecting Banage to his spirits, both those who were out and the ones still in his rings. Focusing on those thin lines, Sara kept going, opening herself as far as she dared. And then, when the power was throbbing through her, surrounding and filling every inch of the cavern, she shoved it down.

The effect was immediate. Banage’s spirits slammed to the ground when her power crashed into them. The root wall collapsed, the stone horse fell to its knees, the stone hands crumbled, and the fire bird plummeted, its light going out in a puff of smoke. The room went pitch black for a moment before a red glow bloomed from the ring of tiny rubies at Sara’s waist.

She stood in the red light, her soul still roaring open, and glared down at her husband lying prone on his stomach, pinned by his connection to the spirits she was grinding under. His head lay sideways in the water that was beginning to leak through the sundered wall of roots, the flood slowly rising to cover his mouth and nose.

“I should let you drown,” she whispered, panting under the strain of her own power. “How fitting it would be if you died under the water you’d worked so hard to free. It wouldn’t even notice, you know. It would fill your lungs just like any other crevice and drown you without a second thought.”

“As it should be,” Banage said, rolling his eyes up to look at her. “If you think I did this with a care for my own life, then you understand nothing, Sara Banage.”

Her whole body went rigid. How long had it been since anyone had called her that? Twenty years at least. Not long enough.

“I never should have married you,” she hissed. “I never should have let you near my work. You break everything you touch.”

“It’s not my fault your work breaks when it is held to a standard of morality,” Banage said, coughing a bit as the water filled his mouth. “You were the one who chose to build your greater good on a flawed foundation. If I did any wrong in this, it is that I did not act sooner.”

Sara closed her eyes. Her open spirit was vibrating with her rage. Through it, she could feel the water flooding through the cavern, still creeping along under the pressure of her will. How easy it would be to lift her hand and let it rush over Banage, silence his arrogance forever. But as soon as she thought it, Sara shrank away from the idea. Even in her fury, she couldn’t do it.

She sighed bitterly, trying to decide her next step when she felt a familiar but unexpected twinge against her chest. She welcomed the signal with a smile and turned her head just in time to see Sparrow slip silently out of the cover of a fallen tank. Without his coat to draw her attention, she had trouble keeping her eyes on him, but she could see well enough to know he was alone. Her smile faded.

“Sparrow,” she snapped. “What are you doing back? Where’s Eliton?”

Sparrow shrugged and kept walking, his feet moving silently through the still water.

Sara scowled. She didn’t have time for his games. “Forget it,” she muttered, returning her attention to Banage. “You can give your excuses later. For now, I need you to help me secure the former Rector. There should be some rope on the floor.” She glanced at Banage, lips lifting in a haughty sneer. “This time we’re going to throw his rings in Whitefall’s vault. Let’s see them get out of that.”

She paused, waiting for the splash of Sparrow’s hands moving through the water for the rope, but she heard nothing. “Sparrow, this is not the time for—”

The knife was in and out before she felt it. It slid into her back, between her ribs, twisting up once before pulling out. She gasped as she realized what had happened, only to find she couldn’t. Her lung, her mind scrambled as the left side of her chest blazed up like a fire. He’d hit her lung.

Sara didn’t realize she’d fallen until she felt the cold water lapping against her burning skin. It was a bad fall, her arms hadn’t moved to catch her, but she felt no pain. Or, if she did, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except reasserting her control. Her hands shot up, patting her chest, fumbling under her coat through the half- dozen Relay points she kept on her at all times, but the one she was searching for wasn’t there.

As she began to panic, her eyes drifted up, squinting against her darkening vision to see Sparrow standing over her, his mouth curled in a smile. One hand held the knife, still dark and dripping with blood. Her blood, she realized with a twinge, but she dismissed the thought as soon as it came. None of that mattered. Her eyes darted to Sparrow’s other hand, the one clenched in a fist. A deep red, viscous liquid dripped between his fingers, and Sara’s burning blood went cold.

Sparrow’s smile widened at the realization in her eyes.

“What?” he said, opening his hand. “Looking for this?”

A chain dangled from his fingers, and at its end was a shattered glass shell no thicker than a soap bubble. Deep red liquid dripped from its broken edge, falling into the water below. Sara blinked in disbelief. She hadn’t even felt him take it. But then, she hadn’t felt the knife either.

“You never were any good at seeing what was around you,” Sparrow said, dropping the remains of the broken orb into the water. “Especially when you have your spirit open.”

Sara stared at him, her mouth moving to shape a word. Why?

“Why?” Sparrow sneered. “Because I’m done taking your orders. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as the Council’s errand boy. And because, in the whole Council, you’re the only one who could ever be my jailor.” He wiped her blood off his knife, smearing it across his dull pants. “I’d say it’s nothing personal, but I can’t think of anyone who deserved that stabbing more than you. And the best part of this is everyone will think he did it.” Sparrow pointed his newly clean blade at where Banage was lying.

Sara rolled in the water, gathering her spirit as she struggled to breathe. Sparrow just sheathed the knife in his boot and dropped to his knees beside her.

“Catching Eli was your fatal mistake, you should know,” he whispered, leaning down so she could hear. “Banage was bad enough, but the minute you decided to reason with your son instead of handing him over to Whitefall, I knew I had my chance at last. All I had to do was make sure Whitefall knew enough to push you. Of course, the idiot Oseran king almost ruined everything. How was I supposed to know he’d move that fast? But everything worked out in the end.”

Sparrow gave her a blinding smile. “Eli was sent back to his cell with no more reason to stay. True to his reputation, once he decided to escape, he was out in a matter of minutes, and with both Banage boys on the lam, you were far too busy to keep your eyes where they should be.” Sparrow’s smile turned cruel. “On me.”

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