Staring at it, Barclay waited for the rage about his parents to sweep over him, but it never came. It was like being angry at a storm, a blizzard, a drought. Gravaldor wasn’t a monster—he was part of nature itself.

The realization left Barclay suddenly empty. His anger at Gravaldor, at Beasts, at Lore Keepers faded, and it hurt to feel it all go. He’d clung to that anger for so long like he’d tried to cling to his parents’ memory. But blaming Gravaldor felt like looking at a mountain and blaming it for a landslide. Barclay had spent his whole life cursing the broken land when he should have been building on top of it.

Soren stood dangerously close to Gravaldor. His two Beasts from the Woods flanked him, the Ischray and the Nitney, but there were others, too, that Barclay didn’t recognize. Soren was right to call himself a collector—Barclay counted at least a dozen Beasts. How could he control that much power?

At the light, Soren whipped around. He locked eyes with Barclay and glared. But before Soren could react, Gravaldor roared and stomped his feet, making the entire ground quake.

Tadg rushed at Soren first, but the Beasts around Soren blocked his path. They were ugly things, carrion birds and animals that looked half-rotted and others covered in grime and filth.

“You will not do this again!” Tadg screamed at Soren. “I won’t let you!”

Soren ignored him. He motioned to the two Beasts at his side.

Gravaldor roared again. Barclay realized for the first time that he wasn’t trying to frighten anyone—he was scared himself. Soren’s Beasts could make you see and feel and hear things that weren’t there—it was no wonder he’d taken a liking to apprentices like Abel and Ethel, whose powers complemented his own.

“Surrender, Gravaldor!” Soren called. “Surrender to the Mark!”

Gravaldor swiped out his paw, and it collided with Soren. He flew through the air and landed on his back several yards away. Viola screamed, making Mitzi’s light flicker in and out.

Gravaldor advanced. The Beasts around Tadg raced out of Gravaldor’s path, but he stood frozen.

“Tadg!” Barclay shouted. “Tadg, you need to run!”

Tadg didn’t seem to have heard him. He was perfectly still.

Gravaldor opened his mouth.

Barclay ran forward, tackling Tadg to the ground. They both rolled through the dirt into a heap against a boulder.

Then Gravaldor stepped on the boulder, crushing it. He bent low and roared at full power, directly over them, with so much force that the ground beneath their backs caved inward. Barclay held his hands over his ears, certain his skull would shatter.

Mitzi’s beam of light shot directly at Gravaldor’s forehead. He groaned and backed away. Barclay and Tadg dizzily clambered to their feet.

On the other side of the cave, Soren’s Beasts had disappeared. Gravaldor’s claw had torn a large slash down his shirt, and it hung on him in bloody strips, exposing much of his chest and back. His skin was covered in thrashing Marks, but unlike the golden color Barclay was used to, they were each gradually turning black.