“Yes.”

We stood there for a while, Seb in my arms. He had no pulse, but I knew he must be afraid. My silver cord trembled.

“Don’t go after her,” Seb said, grasping at my dream-form. “Nashira. All they want to do is suck us dry. And there’s a secret.”

“What secret?”

“I can’t say. I’m sorry.” He took my hands. “It’s too late for me, but not for you. You can still stop this. We’ll help you. We all will.”

Seb threaded his arms around my neck. He felt as real as the living boy. That was how I remembered him. I whispered the threnody: “Sebastian Albert Pearce, be gone into the æther. All is settled. All debts are paid. You need not dwell among the living now.” I closed my eyes. “Good-bye.”

He smiled.

Then he was gone.

The pocket of æther inside the numen began to collapse. The silver cord jerked, more urgently this time. I took a running jump, and my dreamscape brought me back into its hold.

“Paige. Paige.”

My eyes ached in the sudden light. “She’s all right,” Nick said. “We’re out of here. Nadine, round them up.”

“Warden,” I murmured.

A gloved hand squeezed mine, and I knew he was there. I opened my eyes. I could hear gunfire. And his heartbeat.

Warden lifted the access hatch: a heavy door, covered by concrete, which concealed a narrow staircase. The empty padlock clattered away. Warden hitched me over his shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. The humans spilled down the steps, still firing at the NVD. Tjäder grabbed a dead Gilly’s gun. The bullet hit Cyril in the neck, killing him. I caught sight of the city—the light on the sky, the beacon in the dark—before Warden followed the survivors. His warm, solid frame was the only thing I could focus on. My perception returned in painful jolts.

The tunnel was cold. I could smell it: the dry, musty odor of a room that was rarely used. The shouts from above blurred into a senseless cacophony, like the barking of dogs. I clenched my fingers, gripping Warden’s shoulder. I needed adrenaline, amaranth, something.

The tunnel wasn’t large, barely the size of an Underground tunnel, but the platform was long and wide enough to accommodate at least a hundred people. Stretchers stood at the far end, piled up on top of one another. I smelled disinfectant. They must have been used to take fluxed voyants from here to the Detainment Facility, or at least to the street. But I was sure I could hear something in the darkness: the vibrant hum of electricity.

Warden shone his torch toward the train. A moment later, the lights came on. I narrowed my eyes.

Power.