It had only been a handful of sparks. But the weight of that decision had felt far greater. “I’m sorry,” I say through a shuddering breath. In the span of hours, I gave him his deepest desire and ripped it away again. “I had to take it from you. Kai said it would kill you if we didn’t. But I couldn’t release it yet. Not without asking you.”

He brushes a lock of hair from my eyes. “I’ve let it go. You should, too.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, taking my hand. I draw a slow breath and let go. A silver tendril of magic spirals up from my lungs. The smaze is small, translucent and thin, having only lived in Jack for a short while, and I wonder if this one was any easier for him to part with. It hovers, circling the bed before dashing under the door.

The chatter ceases abruptly on the lower floor. Feet pound up the stairs, a flurry of movement and frantic voices. The bedroom door flies open.

Julio bursts in, carrying the staff in a ratty old oven mitt. “We saw the smaze. Is he awake?” Amber, Chill, Poppy, and Marie rush in after him.

Jack gives them a weary smile. “I’m awake.”

“It’s about time,” Julio sighs. “For Gaia’s sake, Sommers, we thought you were dying.”

“I told you he’d be fine.” Kai lingers in the hall, her crystalline eyes unreadable as they land on Jack.

Jack gestures to her face. “No patch? How’d you manage that?”

“I guess Ananke was happy to have her eye back. No more curse,” she says with a shy shrug.

There’s a simmering tension between Kai and . . . well, everyone. If we hadn’t all seen what she did—saving Jack’s life, giving him the staff, standing stubbornly by his side through the extraction of his magic—I’m not sure any of us would have been inclined to let her stay. But something tells me the tension has nothing to do with us, and everything to do with her newfound sight. As much as she boasted about her power with Julio, she’s wary of looking at us. Careful when she speaks. As if she’s afraid to get too close or say too much. Even to Auggie.

Julio chucks Jack’s sore shoulder, making him wince, before holding out the staff to him. “Just for the record, Sommers, I’m not calling you His Majesty, Chronos, His Excellency, or Dad. So don’t let this thing go to your head, or I might be forced to remind you of your humble roots.”

Jack’s laugh relieves the last of the pressure I’ve been holding. “Got it,” he says. “No honorifics.” His brows grow heavy as he looks at the scythe. He starts to reach for it, then changes his mind. “Put it in the umbrella stand over there for me, will you?”