His men fling magic in our direction, chaos erupting again. Shards streak past and I dart sideways, missing them by the hair on my head. There are only a few of his men left, those who’ve picked themselves up off the ground or managed to survive and climbed up here from down below. I aim at one of them, but his arm shifts and my magic flies right past his wrist.

“The girl. Aim for the girl, her arms.” The Chancellor coughs up words, choking on the poison the Seer fed him. He contorts in pain and the Seer lies unmoving. I charge in that direction when fire burns my back. Patrol shoots at me, threads of energy tethering me from every direction, all aimed at my wrists. I bite down, trying to lift my arms, but they’re cement under the weight of their attack.

“She’s breaking,” the Chancellor shouts. “Harder! Harder now. Don’t let up!”

“Aaahhh!” I strain to lift my arms, my everything feeling like it’s on fire, but I can’t.

Pops of magic spark on my periphery. My head snaps in that direction.

A Yakanna stares at her hands, eyes bulging.

Pop.

Magic crackles like electricity between her fingertips.

I gasp.

“I-I,” she stutters, and jaws dangle everywhere.

Julius, Bri, they made it to the grave site! A lump swells in my throat. The Ancestors’ words float through my memory. “As the onyx is returned… the magic will be restored.” She said “as”!

“Keep it steady on the girl,” the Chancellor shouts. “Hold it there.”

Pop.

The Yakanna yanks her arms apart. The restraints on her arms break. She stands, gaping at the Ancestors’ magic pouring from her hands. “My magic!” she shouts. “I-it works!”

I nod, tears stinging my eyes, despite the pull of the Chancellor’s men draining me. A Beerchi beside her is bug-eyed at the same thing happening in his own hands. Beerchi rise, snapping their restraints, freeing themselves, summoning their Ancestors’ power to their fingertips.

Pop. Pop.

More stand, the Ancestors’ magic returning, chains breaking, light and fire filling the air.

“Hold it on her!” The Chancellor’s face reddens as his knees buckle. “The cuffs are the key!” He plants on the ground, the curse he swallowed causing his skin to bubble. “Just get…” He grunts. “The cuffs. Th-that’s all… we need is the…”

My arms are heavy, so heavy. But if our people’s magic is back, mine should be even… Heat creeps through me, not like the usual tickle, but something much hotter, heavier. I yank my arms away and the Patrolmen’s tethers fall off. Magic, strong, like I’ve never felt it pools to my hands and I let it rip through me.