A scream built in her chest, the same wild pressure that she’d released every time they committed a body to Mount Ruin’s volcano. Every time she had to bear witness to another senseless death, another life wasted. Another Oracle and Petrel and Jacana. Another Ember. All around her the scream built and amplified, echoing off the gilded walls of the palazzo. The men before her hesitated. As the scream grew, they seemed to shrink. Until they were small, unimportant. Powerless.

At the height of this miraculous alchemy, Serina, Anika, and the army of Mount Ruin attacked.

The men got a few shots off before the women reached them. The girl to Serina’s left went down. But Serina didn’t falter. She stabbed and slashed. She shoved. She gouged eyes and kicked groins. She carved a path through the men, pushed at them, tore firearms from hands. Her brain shut off, all analysis reduced to stab, slash, shove, gouge.

The soldiers stumbled back, trying to force enough space so they could use their firearms. Or maybe they were scared.

The wave of women crashed over them, washing them out of the hallway and onto a patio. Voices screamed. Chairs crashed to the tiled ground. For a moment, Serina was disoriented by a small gathering of men in colorful suits and waistcoats, smoking pipes.

They scattered, or tried to.

Lights were strung above the assembly, revealing the battle with excruciating detail.

Soldiers and female fighters tumbled over each other, into the men with their pipes and their finery. Serina shoved a portly man in purple velvet out of her way.

“Move!” she roared.

In the chaos, Cliff raised two stolen carving knives to fight a soldier, but someone behind her rammed into her, throwing her off her target. Instead, her knives impaled a man in a blue jacket huddled beside a table. His mouth dropped open as his body collapsed. Cliff stepped back, her face a mask of horror. She raised her hands, still holding the knives wet with his blood, as if to beg forgiveness.

The soldier she’d missed raised his firearm. Serina screamed, trying to warn her. But the battle was too loud, too chaotic. Her voice disappeared into the din. He shot Cliff at point-blank range. She crumpled to the ground beside the twitching body of the courtier.

Serina’s head pounded sickeningly as she turned away. A soldier stood before her, so close she could pick out the silver in his pale blue eyes. He raised his short fighting sword. Without thinking, she drove her head into his stomach, shoving him into several other soldiers. Anika bounded after them, striking them down before they could regain their feet.

A massive soldier with a thick blond beard and heavy fists appeared in front of Serina. Before she could react, he punched her, sending her to the ground. Her ears rang. It was obvious this one didn’t need weapons. He was the weapon.