Barclay, who rarely took Cyril’s side, had to agree with him there. Without him, he and Shazi would’ve both been goners.

“Behind you!” Hasu called.

Cyril glanced over his shoulder at the fresh army of Brutopods advancing up the shoreline. With an impatient flick of his wrist, a line of lava barged through the shallows, forming a massive wall between the ocean and beach. Barclay’s jaw dropped as he looked down the coast on either side, where the barricade stretched the size of three city blocks.

“It was very good of you all to help,” Cyril told them. “But I’m going to take you to the Guild House now. The Guardians will handle the rest.”

Normally, Barclay wouldn’t want to be left out of Guardian Keepers duties, but he was too shaken and hurt to argue.

“What’s wrong with all the Beasts?” Shazi asked.

“They’re in a frenzy. It’s very similar to the reports we’ve gotten from the other islands,” Cyril said. “Their eyes go white, and then they…”

Cyril trailed off, studying the suds of the weeping tide that lingered on the sand.

“White,” he repeated. “Of course. The weeping tide is the answer. When Beasts near it, they go into some sort of violent state. It explains Midsummer and Midwinter. It even explains all these attacks. With the weeping tide blooming more and more, any Beasts who come into contact with it become affected.”

Cyril might’ve been rambling to himself, but his words made sense. And for the first time, Barclay felt a flare of respect for the Horn of Dawn. He still thought he was pompous, and he didn’t forgive him for how he’d treated Viola. But Cyril had earned his reputation as much as Runa had.

Shazi’s eyes widened. “Are the effects permanent?”

“I don’t think so.” Cyril placed protective hands on both their shoulders. “Come on—we need to get you all back to the Guild House.”

The next three hours passed in a blur. Thanks to Edwyn’s healing Lore, Barclay slept for most of them, curled up on the floor with a blanket draped over his shoulders and large strips of silver Gunkwort crisscrossing his palms. Until a hand on his arm shook him awake.

“Barclay,” Runa hissed. “Barclay, wake up.”

Barclay blinked open bleary eyes. Despite the late hour, the Guild House boomed with the ruckus of Lore Keepers shouting at one another.

“What time is it?” he asked. “Are all the Brutopods gone?”

“It’s two in the morning, and yes.”

“What about Goath? Is he all right?”

“Goath is fine.” Runa rolled up her right sleeve, where Goath’s Mark wiggled over her skin. “I’m glad you’re all safe, and you can sleep more tonight. But I thought you’d want to hear this—Orla is about to make an announcement.”