“If it comes down to it and we can’t bring Wesley to our side, then we’ll need to kill him,” Ashwood said. “He can’t be a weapon for our enemies. You know that, don’t you? You must be prepared to do what’s needed.”

Is that what you want? Wesley asked. Or will you join us?

I want it to be over, Zekia said. Please, just let it be over.

I can’t promise that, Wesley said. Not until you give me your answer.

Zekia closed her eyes and pictured her brother’s face.

She pictured her visions, side by side: the world she had seen that Wesley could bring, filled with so much light. And the world that Ashwood had shown her he could create, with Crafters no longer afraid.

Just a little blood and they had already spilled so much.

Wouldn’t it be wasted to stop now?

Would that make all of those deaths mean nothing?

“Little warrior,” Ashwood said. “Will you do this for me?”

Kid, her brother whispered. Will you join us?

33

SAXONY

Creije was a city dulled by death.

What was once a dazzling dreamscape of colorful buildings and air sweet with the tang of magic had now been devastated by battle. It was not that the buildings had fallen, or that the streams of the floating railways didn’t still curve in and out of the city like paintings, looking at once sharp as knives and delicate as spiderwebs.

On the surface, it was still the city Saxony remembered calling home, but she was well-practiced in seeing beyond the facade of things, and truth was, to anyone who had named Creije theirs and been witness to the undeniable spell of the city, it was barely an echo.

The street art was chipped and debris-covered, the trick dust once embedded into the cobblestone had faded to a bare glint, and the Steady Mountains that overlooked it all appeared newly ashen.

Even the moonlight, which usually shadowed the most winding of streets to hide the secrets of the city, and cast a bewildering glow on the most beautiful of crevices, kept itself unnervingly consistent: shining equally on each edge.

Gone were the tricks of light and the need for second takes.

This new moon allowed every part of Creije to be seen in the exact same way.

Saxony looked over to Wesley and Tavia, and though she saw the reflection of home in their eyes, she also saw how their breath hitched in unison and they kept themselves close to each other’s side. Like they needed the familiarity of each other in the face of this scarring reality.

They had both noticed the difference in the city just as Saxony had, and they were equally as pained by it.

Perhaps more so.

Saxony had fallen in love with Creije over time, instead of at first glance like so many people did. Like she had done with Karam.