“Look at us!” Poesy’s laugh rang like a siren as she slit reality into a cloud of snakes. They ribboned toward Kane, but he turned them into arrows and fired them back. “Look at our power! We do not belong to this world. We belong to something better. Something with integrity that only we can create for ourselves! That has always been our way. That is our only fate!” The arrows splintered into lightning, which Poesy gathered along her painted nails and whipped at Kane. He returned it with a rainbow blast, and the two were locked into a dual for life and death, for the fate of not only Kane’s world, but every world hiding in every person. For the fantastic realities people lovingly created for themselves, in danger of being subjugated by the whims of a madwoman and her teacup.

“Why do you fight for a world that does not fight for you?” Poesy spoke through the maelstrom, right into Kane’s mind. “Why do you fight to save a reality that fails so many, so often?”

Their dual collapsed into a sucking silence. Lightning and etherea threaded the vacuum between them as they landed back on the stage.

“I’m not fighting to save reality,” Kane said. “I’m learning to change it.”

“The loom is an instrument,” Poesy said. “It cannot learn. Your righteousness is pretty poetry and nothing more. It’s time to end this.”

“That’s right,” Kane sneered. “Dean, now!”

The Dreadmare formed around Poesy, its bladed body shearing together like scissors and slicing her white cape into strips. Kane felt the thrill of success as the first spray of blood met the wind, but then the grinding halted. There was a great ripping noise, and suddenly Poesy was back. She had Dean in a headlock with one arm while the other hand clutched the Dreadmare’s flailing body. She had torn the armor right off him.

“Kane,” Dean whimpered through clamped teeth. Poesy squeezed, and his jaw cracked.

Kane’s powers failed. Sick gravity brought him to his knees, and his backpack slid from his shoulders. He fought for the exquisite control he’d had a second ago, but it was gone.

“You know, I was wrong about this, too.” Poesy smiled wickedly in Dean’s ear. “I figured conscripting the brooding love interest assured me unregulated access to the loom’s every desire, but you were never the agent I needed. Ms. Bishop, however, does possess the rigor I require. Would you like to live, my dear?”

Poesy flicked her hand, and like a flock of sparrows, golden magic fluttered apart to reveal a huddle group sneaking into the battle. Elliot at the lead, stumbling as Poesy easily dispersed his illusion, with Ursula at his side. Behind them, Adeline slouched with Sophia, and then suddenly Adeline was alone as another blast from Poesy’s hand threw everyone else away, into the whirling unraveling.

“No!” Kane cried.