Luuk reached the top first. Coralythe delivered the final command with a single nod. Luuk spat upon the stone of the dam, not a moment’s thought for the repercussions that would come from his actions.

The dam turned to dust finer than the most delicate snowfall. Nightwell water tumbled free like a viper upon the sleeping prey of Winterune.

Chapter 53
Myrthe

Nightwell water overflowed the freshly dug canal, disobeying any attempt at control or direction. It flooded the plains. Rising. Rising. Rising until it splashed the stones of the kleinschloss. It swirled around my ankles, and I clutched the stone statue as it rose to my knees. Thighs. Waist. A fierce current tugged at me.

As swiftly as it came, the current moved away as though realizing there was no food to be found here. Bursts of purple mist rose from the foam lining the edges of the flood. Already, the water flowed beyond my sight, into forest and glade and river.

Mattias never even needed a new canal. The Nightwell swept over everything into canal after canal after canal. There was no stopping it.

I dropped to my knees.

Banes would be forced upon people. I knew how that felt. Intoxicating but also imprisoning. The Bane made me think I was in control . . . while it controlled me. I’d given in so quickly. So easily.

Used it again and again almost without thought.

Now I couldn’t even sense my Wishtress Talent in the back of my mind. My curse was likely gone as well since it was connected to the magic of my Talent. And yet . . . I wanted it back.

I wanted that last wish.

The only way I could think to retrieve it would be to deny the Bane—to give my Talent the complete authority over my mind and will. And if I was going to give my Talent authority, I needed to believe it was worth it. Not just for Bastiaan but for myself. I’d resented my Talent since it appeared, but Bastiaan saw it as beautiful. As having a purpose.

It was time I saw it that way too.

He saw all Talents that way. Again and again I’d seen how right he was. About Banes. About Talents. He had made mistakes, yes, but he’d never wavered in his care for people. His desire to see all people have access to Talents.

He believed in that dream so much he was dying for it.

Behind me, someone splashed across the courtyard. Sven. Blood dripping down the side of his head. Face twisted in fury.

I ducked back behind the stone but not before his gaze snapped to mine. The splashing increased. “Myrthe!” His bellow sounded murderous.

Fleeing was futile. My feet and weak limbs wouldn’t do much good.

This was it. This was my end. Please, I begged my Talent. Return to me.