The illusion around us is cracking. The acrid smell of the swamp returns despite the fact it’s no longer in sight, the green fog thicker. Fractal swirls of black mar the clear blue sky of early morning. The atmosphere is no longer peaceful, but expectant. The Hearth is abandoned, but I swear the place is holding its breath.

A light flickers in the chapel. We walk up the steps, lined with smooth, white stones. To either side of the path, the world continues to crumble, the images glimmering at the corner of my vision. The doors loom before us. Nazarin reaches forward and pulls them open.

Inside, it’s dark but for a candle flame. As we enter, it brightens.

Ensi stands at the altar where Mana-ma always preaches. He’s looking up at the window. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for someone.

Water has leaked in. I splash through shallow puddles toward him. I have no idea what to do, what to expect. We have no weapons. Once I stopped concentrating on that knife, it ceased to exist again. I try to imagine it, bring it into being. It starts to appear—it’s the same as the murder weapon from the autopsy report at Zenith, the one Tila may have used—but as soon as I almost have a solid grasp on it, it disappears again. The same happens to Nazarin and his gun. The pews shake, as if in an earthquake.

“What have you done?” Ensi asks. He looks almost as he does in the real world, except he’s pale and shaking. There are more lines on his face, ghosts of the one he would wear if he hadn’t waxworked his features. Still, he moves out from the altar to face us, staggering a little, but standing strong.

“I injected you with a virus. When you kissed me.”

“What does it do?” He sounds calculating, rather than afraid. He’s used to being a victor. He won’t give up so easily. The ground shakes again, rumbling, and dust falls from the rafters.

“It’s eating your world. Gobbling it up byte by byte. When it’s all gone, you’re finished.” I don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds good. I guess Kim didn’t plan it as a long con, after all. Makes sense. Why take the risk that he’d discover it and destroy the code?

His eyes glint. “Then I can take you with me.”

Ensi moves toward us, smooth and deadly. A long blade appears in his right hand. He jumps over the shallow steps of the altar, water splashing around his feet. The blade is a replica of the one his Queen—I still can’t process that Malka is Mana-ma in another body—used to kill Nuala. The chapel creaks with another violent shudder.