“I’m so glad,” I say. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” he says. “I’m . . . really looking forward to getting to know them all. You know?”

“I know,” I say.

“Okay, everyone,” Nadir says, and we all turn to him. “That’s all of us. Let’s go.”

We file out of the house and head towards Heart to gather inside the city walls.

“How do we do this?” Nadir asks Anemone.

“Each of you will need to direct as much power as possible into your ark. It will be a matter of concentrating it into one point for long enough to essentially fill it to the point of bursting.”

Nadir looks around. “Everyone move to higher ground. Use the walls or the rubble. Whoever goes first will stand here.” He points to a spot in the middle of the large plaza where we stand.

“Any volunteers?” Nadir asks.

“I’ll go first,” Bronte says, her hand on the hilt of the sword at her hip and her chin lifted. Her pewter armor glints in the sun as a breeze tosses her shiny iron hair, and there’s not an ounce of fear in her expression.

“Great,” Nadir says, and then we all jog away from the center, each finding a place to observe from above.

Bronte pulls the ark from her belt and contemplates it before she places it on the ground and takes a few steps back. Her gaze sweeps over us, and she dips her chin to indicate she’s ready.

I swallow a thick knot, really hoping this doesn’t kill her. Or us.

From each of our perches, we spin out our magic. I have no idea what Mael is capable of, but when dark violet ribbons emerge from his fingertips, circling him like a cage, I’m somehow not surprised. He might play the role of the irreverent, but it’s obvious he’s also lethal.

My fingers curl into fists as I consider what to do with mine. It sparks under my skin, begging to break free, but I don’t want to hurt anyone. A moment later, ribbons of Nadir’s light magic circle around my limbs, and instantly, my magic calms.

“Better?” he asks, and I nod.

“Better.”

He uses his other hand to join his magic with Amya’s as the two of them create a protective barrier over our heads. Tristan and Cedar add ribbons of their dark green magic, while Cyan and Mael add their power, a net of water and streams of those dark ribbons enclosing the barrier to fortify the shield.

I hope it’s enough.

Bronte focuses on the ark and then holds out her hand as her own brand of magic seeps from her fingertips. It’s dense and solid mist, grey, silver, and white coalescing together.