War rages in the backdrop, my ears burning from the sounds of bodies grunting and slamming the ground. Death drips in the air. I don’t entirely believe her, but there’s not time to press further.

“Je…” The Seer coughs over her words. “Jelani.” She clears her throat, clamping a firm hand on my wrist. Taavi’s brows cinch. The Seer’s lips move, and she squirms where she sits. She’s trying to tell me something, warn me? Is she fighting the curse to do it? Or has this trip finally withered her down irreparably?

“I’m listening.”

“Yuh… puhh.” She fights for words, but all that comes out are chokes. She grips her throat, shaking her head, and points to the dirt floor above us.

“Up? Aboveground? I need to go aboveground?”

She nods.

The Chancellor.

He sent his men, but like the coward he is, he’s not coming down here himself. I settle back into the wall. I have to face him again. Aboveground. Where his magic is intact. My insides slosh; no matter how many times I swallow, the lump in my throat won’t go down.

The Ancestors believed I could do this.

They chose me to do this.

Me, Rue from East Row.

And it’s different now. Before, he stood in formation with thousands. Now many of his men lie in heaps down here on the floor. He sent them to weaken us, no doubt. But he underestimated me. I’m used to being underestimated.

If anyone’s weakened by this siege attempt, it’s them. Our numbers are a fraction of theirs and yet they’re dropping like flies. It’s just like I said—without their stolen magic, they’re nothing, a footnote in a history book. If that.

I rise, but the Seer holds tight to me, pointing to herself as well.

“She wants to go too.” I’d almost forgotten. “I promised her.”

“Mother, that is not wise,” Taavi says. “H-he’s out there.”

He… her father.

“You stay here,” she says. “I-I’ll go up with Jelani.”

She stares at her daughter, her expression carrying the weight of something I don’t fully understand. After several moments she nods in agreement, but even that seems to pain her.

“Okay, and we’re leaving her with Rojala,” I say to Taavi.

“Rojala? She’s a…”

“I trust Rojala with my life.”

Taavi doesn’t question again and helps me carry her mother. She’s a pallet of cinder blocks in my arms. I shove through the crowds, stepping over bodies until I spot the door to the room where I left Zora. Inside, Rojala is cleaning Zora’s body with a damp cloth.

“You okay?”