Even after stripping off the blood-soaked dress, I’m too rattled to sleep. I can’t strip off the memories. Everything felt too real to be an illusion. I can’t deny that magic can do impossible things, but I’m trapped in Barry’s distant stare—a stare that reminds me too much of another one. The one. My chest tightens as I try not to think about it. I press my eyes closed, but all I can see are Mom’s unblinking eyes or Barry’s or both at once. How are eyes so similar when they’re dying? It doesn’t matter what color they are because you don’t see the color—all you see is the dimming light inside them.

I open my eyes and begin to pace back and forth.

I wish I could be out on the street with the familiar sound of people and cars, focusing on that or the feel of my stake in my backpack.

I don’t want to think of stakes. They remind me of Roman.

I can’t pull myself out of my own head.

Mom left for love. And maybe for me? I asked Diantha, and she told me that immortal magicians can’t have children. Their bodies are frozen in every way. Did she leave because she wanted kids? Did she regret it? I go to my nightstand and pull out the journal entries and photos there. I reread the one about her craving real magic. She did regret it—even if she didn’t regret me.

But my makeshift family is here. I can have the magic and them.

She’d want me to win so I could keep what she missed.

I only have four pages, but I pick up another and read it.

Joseph is a joy to work with. His skill with illusions is remarkable. He doesn’t need the real thing. Still, I suggested him as a recruit, but everyone thinks I like him too much, and it’s best not to be too attached.

If I’m going to stay, I should at least get more stories. Julia wasn’t very talkative, but maybe Edgar would be. I haven’t spotted him since they dragged him out of the testing ceremony.

Someone knocks on my door.

My chest actually lightens at the tapping. I hope it’s Xander, but I’d settle for the twins asking me to play dice. I’d even rather watch Tomb Raider one more time than visualize the tithing ceremony any longer.

But when I open it, Willow stands there… with Nadine hovering behind her. Both of them have changed out of their bloody ball gowns, but there’s a haunted look in their eyes that makes me think they’re still imagining the blood-soaked fabric on their skin. I know the look. I probably have it right now too, but I’ve had it my whole life, so it’s easier to ignore.