Arbor watched in fascination as the wall came into perfect focus. It shone a bright blue light, and for the first time, she could see the map of veins that ran through the entirety of the endless wall. They weren’t cracks, like Wynter had said. They were more like vessels to carry the energy through. And they were beautiful.

“What you see before you is the wall,” Wynter said. Her voice was reaching a fever pitch. “As I have told you all this time, it is visible, and it is weakening. Even you can see it now with your own two eyes.”

The acolytes fell to their knees before Wynter. They bowed and praised her for her magnanimous behavior. For letting them see the wall as she’d claimed.

But Arbor remained on her feet. Wynter hadn’t done this. She was a prop for Arbor’s rebellion but not worth anything more than that. How was this happening?

“Soon, we will be free!” Wynter cried. “Soon, we will stake our claim. Soon, we will show the world who we are.”

Then, as Wynter turned to face the wall, the whole thing shimmered.

Arbor gasped again. It was as if she were looking up at a kaleidoscope of starlight. Then, the wall burst in the air and rained down all around them. She held her hand out, and a piece of the wall touched her and then disappeared entirely.

“Are you seeing this?” Pres asked her.

“I can’t believe my eyes,” she breathed.

Wynter stepped forward. “It is time, children,” she bellowed. “It is time.”

She crossed the divide where the wall had been for a thousand years. Pres slid his hand into hers, and together, they joined her outside of the wall.

Outside of the wall.

She’d never believed any of Wynter’s ramblings. But here she stood, on the other side of the wall. Whether she had done it or not was irrelevant. She had a dozen witnesses who would say she had accomplished it.

Arbor smiled devilishly and looked to her brother. “It’s time.”

“Sister,” he said, bowing at the waist and kissing her hand.

“Let’s go show the world what we’re made of.”

52

The Sickness

CLOVER

Clover found Amond where he always was—in the loch den. “Get up. Get up. It’s an emergency.”

Amond nodded his head and took another puff from the pipe. “Has Dozan sent for me?”

“Yes! And he’ll have your head if you’re too high to work your magic.”

“My magic works because of the loch, little mourning dove,” he said as he rose to his feet. “Surely, you, of all people, know that.”

“Why would I know that?” Clover asked, hustling him toward the door. “I’m a human. I don’t have magic.”

“If you say so.”