“We need to go this way,” Kai says, unsheathing a spear tip from a sack at her back. Its point is gilded, like the one that poked through Breakfast Lady’s throat. “There’s just one of them. Sit tight, I’ll take care of him.”

I hesitate a moment. “N-no.” I grab her wrist, and a flicker of something in her eyes makes me let go. “Something is off.”

“I know what I’m doing.” She slips the pointed head into a gadget that pulls back. It springs into a place with a click. The guard’s head swivels in our direction. Shit.

He strikes first and Kai sends a dagger in his direction. But he’s fast. He twists out of the way and shoots magic back at us. I dodge and tug at the warmth gushing through me and let my magic rip through my hands. It burns through me, rekindling a part of me that I feared had all but burned out. This I know. This I can do. I fight. My magic blasts like a torch, the hallway glowing blue in the light. Jhamal is beside me, slashing a blade he got from Kai.

More Patrol slink from the shadows and we’re surrounded. Jhamal tries to charge past me, but like a reflex I shove him back. I aim and fire, dodging Patrol’s shots. But this time I miss and the wall above them explodes in a cloud of dust. I fire again, coughing. Aim. Fire. And again. Aim. Fire. My wrists are numb from the intense heat. I can’t tell if any shots are landing. I can hardly see. But I’m just so glad to feel something besides shame.

Someone moves on my right. I whip around to face them, fire erupting in my hands, and find myself nose to nose with Jhamal. The someone is behind him, magic sizzling through the air toward us both.

“Down!”

He ducks and I fling my wrists forward, pummeling a fireball at Patrol rushing up behind him. The fire catches the Patrol’s robes. He stumbles into a group of guards behind him and they all topple like dominoes.

Jhamal’s back up and we’re back-to-back, circling. His heart pounds against my back with rage and iron-willed determination. He, like me, sees the light at the end of the tunnel. He finally sees that today we could smell the briny Ghizoni air, feel the sun on our faces. And he, like me, would die before letting that chance go.

I pivot and he moves with me, in sync as if he can predict my steps, hear my thoughts. A strike barrels toward us. His nostrils flare and his rage intoxicates me. In the best possible way.