Hannah is in the infirmary, which is probably where Morgan’s mom is. As suspected, Emmi was draining the magical energy out of the students, using it to fuel not only passage through the stones, but the spell to take the Sampo from the hiisi as well. It’ll take weeks—months even—for Hannah to recover—if she ever does. She’s still unconscious and no one knows if she’ll ever do magic again, if she wakes up. Just have to wait and see.

Toivo stands with Aoife, who has an arm around his waist to prop him up. He’s supposed to be in the school’s infirmary too. The dagger punctured his lung, narrowly missing his spine. If it wasn’t for Aoife’s and Morgan’s efforts, followed by the potent healing power of Natalie’s South African mom, who’s an inyanga, Toivo would be dead. He would’ve died saving my life—a fact I’m still processing.

Sorin is with his own family, all pale-skinned with dark hair and beautiful faces. He keeps glancing over at Aoife, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

MacCrone is there too, walking with the aid of a crutch and grumbling constantly. Fiona, wearing a black sweater over her scales, waddles beside her. When MacCrone sees me, she gives me a slow nod.

“Off you go,” Mom says. “I’ve got a speech to make.”

I’m traipsing along the shore, heading for Morgan, when four figures block my way—Aysha, Katya, Sini, and, held between them, Natalie.“You’re supposed to be in bed,” I say before I can think of something better. My heart already thinks I’m running a marathon.

“And miss all the fun? Not a chance.” Natalie smiles.

Her cheeks are gaunt, and her brown skin is shiny as if she has a fever, but she’s alive and as beautiful as ever. Like Hannah, she was drained of her magic, but thanks to her inyanga mom and her Muspellian genes, she’s recovered a lot faster than the others. Though it’ll be some kind of miracle if she ever wields fire again. Despite all that, she’s here and she’s looking at me like there’s more she wants to say.

“Hey girls, think we could have a moment?” Natalie says, and the others shrug.

Natalie leans into me. She takes my hand and I stop breathing, exhaling only when she’s led me far enough away, so we have some privacy.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’m only alive because of you and—and there’s something I should’ve done…” She teeters toward me, our faces almost touching, and then even that sliver of a gap disappears. Her lips brush against mine. Soft as butterfly wings.

“Is this okay?” she asks. “I mean, it’s been a while since—so I’m not sure if—”