“Aarrrrgh!” He brings it down over the Chancellor’s head. But he blocks it. They wrestle, limbs tangled, when another Beerchi swings a solid right hook and the Chancellor’s head swims. He spews magic in every direction, woozy on his feet. His magic ricochets like a bullet until it hits a group of Macazi, and they topple over.

Taavi works through the crowd pressing her metal box to any Ghizoni she sees. They drop to their knees on contact, convulsing, temporarily paralyzed like I’d been. Then she binds them with rope.

“No!” I rush over and shove her out of the way, but she’s made short work of it, and a dozen, maybe more, of my people are folded on the ground. She gazes up at me, but where I expect to see grit and determination in her stare, I only see pain. Her hands tremble as she stuns another’s ankle as he rushes by. He falls.

“Stop it!” I pull her up by the collar and shake; the metal gadget falls from her hands and rolls away. “What’s gotten into you?”

Her shoulders slump, her lip trembling, the firm defiance and confidence she used to hold in her posture is fractured, broken.

“Why would you do this?”

“He’s my father, Rue. My father. Totsi never wanted it… b-but… I have a chance here. T-to show him…”

“Taavi,” I sigh, but before I can get the words out, something pinches my spine and my knees hit the dirt. The Chancellor’s broken free from the Beerchi and is coming after me. His magic stings my back and the spot is wet, sticky. Taavi rushes off as I pull myself up to find more of my people bound, limbs tied on the ground, their lead weapons and accessories discarded. The winds that had blown in our favor are changing course and I’m running out of steam. Their glazed gazes pierce me.

I muster as much strength as I can and fire magic at the Chancellor. Flames roll through the air from my fingertips. “Fight me!”

My magic catches his sleeve and he stumbles backward.

“Leave my people out of this! I’m who you want. Me. My magic. Come take it!”

He gathers both his hands when a frail voice cracks the air.

“Xiiiirrrrre!”

His pale complexion drains. He’s white as a ghost.

“And you!” The Seer turns to Taavi, thunder booming overhead. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” Taavi folds in on herself, weeping, and I don’t even know who this woman is. Only deep regret can torture a person like that. She wore a tough mask, but in the end, she wanted what she would never be able to get from the coldhearted Chancellor: a father who loved her.