I raise my hands and the clouds overhead lift. I clench my fists and tug down and a rain falls harder, beating the ground. I gasp glaring at my hands, the ancestor’s words tugging at me. Stronger, I’m so much stronger. I brandish an arm to the right and a line of trees rip out of the rumbling ground and tumble like thunder.

“Wh-what now?” a Loyalist shouts.

But the Chancellor can hardly answer; the curse is working its way through him and he’s in the fetal position on the ground. I plant my feet firm and lift my hands, sitting in the sinking feeling in my feet, wondering just how capable I could be. Lift. Air gusts under my feet and I rise, floating above everything else. Up, up, in the air. Trees snap at the direction of my fingertips. I shove them at Loyalists in every direction. They topple over and those that don’t fall, run. The Chancellor’s taken root in the ground.

“Get off this island!” My voice thunders from the clouds and lightning zigzags through the sky.

Levitating above the trees, I catch a glimpse of the Chancellor’s ivory tower in the Central District, far in the distance. I fill my lungs, and then I blow. The forest bends, their leaves grazing the ground under my breath. The rains fall sideways. The tower’s windows shatter in a melodious chorus of chimes.

I rotate my wrist up and his entire tower detaches from the ground and lifts in the air. Faint cries from the Chancellor wailing below me scratch my ears. I shove and the block of concrete flies through the air, its shadow shading the City, before splashing in the ocean. It bobs, then sinks.

Down.

Drowned.

To be forgotten at the bottom of nowhere.

I lower myself to the ground, the world a blur of color. Bri and Julius have returned from the grave site to an army of hugs. My wrists glow like they’ve never glowed before when I approach the Chancellor, who’s hunched over, skin wrinkling, wincing in pain. My people stand around, some staring in shock, others pulling at onyx in the perpetrators’ arms. More sprouting magic, more wielding it with smiles. Their unbridled joy is palpable.

But I’m not done.

“Make him stand.”

Shaun holds the Chancellor up with a single hand. I aim at his wrists. Magic streams to them and his onyx glows. He wails in pain and I urge my magic harder.

“Ah!” He squirms. I press.