“Hey.” He tugs at a curl escaping the edge of his beanie.

He notices my hand in Natalie’s and gives me a sneaky thumbs-up only I see. There are thick bandages on his wrists.

“How you feeling?” Aysha asks.

“Definitely been better, but I’ll live,” he says, and she gives him the cheesiest grin I’ve ever seen.

Together, a surprising group of six, we look out over the lake, at the faces of the students who didn’t make it.

“If only we’d done what we did sooner,” I say. “We might’ve saved them all and Hannah wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“We did all we could,” Aysha says.

“And we were pretty badass.” Morgan bumps me with his elbow. “We fought off monsters and defeated a chaos mage!”

I should feel pride at our victory, but something else niggles inside me. What if Emmi was telling the truth? Natural magic is being destroyed. So, what if finding the shards of the Sampo was the right thing to do?

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Sini says, breaking into my thoughts.

Aysha raises her eyebrows.

“Almost,” Sini says. “I’m rather happy I did to be honest. And I’m super glad you all survived.”

“Thanks to Taika,” Katya says.

“How come you were the only one who could hear Natalie?” Sini asks.

“Magic,” I answer, and it almost makes me smile. “Not sure exactly what kind yet. Maybe some sort of shamanism, maybe something else. I’m in House Aithyr now. Even got the T-shirt.”

“Like Sorin and the shape-shifters?” Morgan asks.

“Yeah, there’ll be five houses from now on.”

“I thought practicing Aithyr elementalism was too close to chaos magic.” Sini glances at me nervously, as if she’s a little afraid.

Not going to lie—I quite like the way that makes me feel.

“It’s a gray area, a different sort of magic,” Aoife answers as she joins us, her arm still around Toivo. “And probably something we all need to understand better.”

“You know, Cludd wants to dedicate a full page to Risto, Manami, and Elijah,” Sini says. “Want to do it together?” She still looks nervous, thumb poised beneath the elastic on her wrist.

“Definitely,” I say. “I’d be honored to share a byline with you.” And I’m surprised I actually mean it.

Mom clears her throat, and everyone is quiet.

“Dear guardians, students, and staff of Myrskyjärvi,” she begins. “We are gathered here today to remember the lives of three incredible students. To mourn them. To miss them. And to make sure we never forget them. Their lives were taken in an unspeakable act of cruelty and betrayal. We will not rest until all those responsible are brought to justice.”

I zone out, my gaze on the photos illuminated by flickering candlelight. All the if onlys skewer my insides as the procession of twelfth graders sweep around the lake.