The storm outside was worse than any Ephyra had ever seen. The streets were more like rivers, almost knee-deep with water and crowded with debris. Lightning sizzled through the sky, flickering and flashing around them, the thunder so loud it sounded like planets colliding. The rain that had been falling steadily since morning had frozen into hailstones the size of fists, striking hard enough to break roof tiles and bruise skin.

Wind buffeted them as they waded toward the palace, moving slowly beneath the arcaded walkway alongside Ozmandith Road. The closer they got to the palace gates, the more signs of battle and destruction they saw. Soldiers from both sides of the battle scrambled to find cover from the hail and wind.

When the palace gates finally came into view, Ephyra bit back a gasp of horror. The walls had been completely ripped apart, sandstone and twisted metal forming a dam against the water rushing toward the palace.

“What do we do?” Illya called over the wind.

Ephyra pushed ahead of the others, scanning the ruins of the gate. It would be tricky, but she could climb up, and hopefully spot Hassan and the others from a higher vantage point.

“I’m going up there,” she told Sefu, and before any of them could object, she stepped out from beneath the arcade and swung herself up to the first stable foothold she could find. One wrong move could potentially collapse the entire wall, so Ephyra was focused, methodical as she made her way up. She felt a ruthless calm come over her, the same mindset she’d sunk into night after night as the Pale Hand.

Her hands were past numb by the time she reached the top of the wall—or what was left of it—and gazed out across a courtyard, now scattered with broken pillars and crumbled arches. And there, on the far side of the courtyard at the bottom of a grand set of stairs, Ephyra saw them. Two figures, crouched beside an overturned pillar.

“I see them!” Ephyra called down to Illya, Sefu, and Chike.

There was a gap in the rubble about a hundred paces down from where Ephyra perched. The water flowed twice as fast through it, making any potential crossing a risk. Sefu led the way, clinging tightly to the uneven sandstone as he fought against being swept up by the current. Chike followed, with Illya unsteadily bringing up the rear.

Halfway through the gap, Illya lost his grip and the current swiftly caught hold of him, dragging him below the surface.

“Illya!” Ephyra cried, her heart leaping into her throat. She scaled down the craggy wall toward him.

Chike was faster, grabbing Illya’s arm before the water ripped him away. Ephyra skidded down the side of the wall, plunging her hand into the cold water to help Chike pull Illya back to the surface.