Sethran comes over and takes Rowan’s share of the cure, tucking those two bags in another spot away from where Io and I put ours. Rowan gets to her feet, leaning all her weight on her good leg. Sethran and Io take up either side of us. It seems like a moment for goodbyes, but it doesn’t take any words.

“We fight to the end,” says Io.

I look at Rowan, hoping to kiss her one last time, but her gaze is on the west. Her new, short hair dances around her neck.

“Callen,” she says. “Do you remember how when we were kids, we’d test our magic by jumping between the rooftops?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“What if it works the same here? What if our magic is asking us to trust it?”

It all clicks, what she’s thinking. “Rowan, no. If you’re wrong, you’ll die.”

She reaches around my neck and kisses my cheek. “And if I’m right, we live.”

Before I recover from the kiss, she’s off and running, limping on her bad leg. Sethran calls her name, but she doesn’t turn.

“Come back!” he yells. “Rowan, stop!”

I send a prayer skyward as she leaps off the edge and into the open air.

45

ROWAN

I regret it the moment I jump.

The empty air brings nothing but panic as I call on my magic time and time again as the sea rushes up, eager to be my last sight.

And then—I feel it.

The moment is like the mirrors in the Glass Tower, casting light and memories into a thousand images and feelings that flash in my mind faster than I am falling.

I see my whole life on the Heliana, from my mother leading classes to the last time I hugged my father when I was seven. I hear the music of the High Summer festival. I feel the pride and awe from the first time I saw Shirene in her sentinel robes.

Salty air whizzes by me, bringing more memories. Feeling exhausted in the early days of training. Vera and I staying up past curfew back when we shared a room in the Warriors’ Hall, laughing and daydreaming. I see Ox in that first moment he asked me to dance, so sure of himself and confident in my answer before I knew it myself.

And Callen. I thought he was an anchor bringing me down, but just because he is steady doesn’t make him deadweight. He stayed my friend after my father died and the other kids didn’t know how to act around me. He encouraged my becoming a warrior, sparring with me before I was even old enough to formally train. He’s seen me scream and lash out. He’s seen me cry and be vulnerable. There isn’t a single corner of my memories that Callen isn’t in, and every one of them shines.