“And if she had? If she had explained to you why she sided with Jack, would you have listened?”

I slam both palms down on his desk, ready to climb over it and rip out his throat. “You sanctimonious son of a bitch!”

Lyon’s eyes darken as they slide to the staff, the twitch in his hand the only clue that he feels threatened by me. A black velvet sash is knotted around the head of the staff, covering the crystal eye at its center, as if Lyon is afraid of its power. As if he’s too fucking chicken to look into it and see his own future.

I lean over the desk. “Do it, old man,” I whisper. “Go ahead and kill me. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Because Jack is dead, and it was my team that killed him. And you want to make me suffer for it.”

I lock eyes with him.

“Jack survived. He’s alive, Douglas.”

I fall back a step. “No. You’re wrong. There’s no way he’s alive. I saw him fall through the ice. I watched him drown!”

“What you didn’t see was the loyalty of those who loved him, and the sacrifices they made to save him.”

“That’s impossible.” It’s not possible that Denver and Noelle are in the wind. That Chronos—my Chronos—is gone and Jack Sommers is still breathing. “You’re lying!”

I stumble back from the desk, my heels connecting with the chair behind me as Lyon rises and reaches for the staff. The razor edge of the scythe glints as he lowers it between us and unwinds the velvet sash from the eye. It catches the light, throwing rainbows over the desktop. Flashes of my own face are captured inside them, flickering on the polished wood.

“What is that? What are you doing?”

“You wish to know what really happened. I’m showing you.” Lyon turns the staff in increments, every degree revealing new images, moving backward in time until he finds the moment he’s searching for. Denver’s face appears, and suddenly, I can’t speak.

I watch him die all over again. Watch Fleur murder him. Watch the magic and life and soul slip out of him.

“Stop,” I grind out. “Make it stop.”

The image rotates, the perspective shifting with dizzying speed. I don’t recognize this memory. I’m not in my own head. It’s as if I’m seeing myself through someone else’s eyes.

Through Fleur’s.

I see myself wrestle her to the ground, grappling for control of her hands. Fighting off her mind as she summons roots and vines to snare me. Noelle is there. She rushes me from behind, and I’m blinded by a quick flash of light—my light—as my own death plays out in front of me, and I’m pulled into the ley lines, back to the Observatory.