“You gated,” Varajas said.

He and Samir and Ruan all stood at the shore of the lake where, as a child, Samir had once almost drowned.

“I gated,” Samir confirmed.

“You came here, because it had been on your mind,” Ruan said. He was staring out over the water. “Entirely without meaning to, you did magic most wizards never master in their entire lifetime.”

“Yeah. It’s funny what happens when you spend four years breaking down and rebuilding your own mind. And in the end, it didn’t matter.” Light flashed behind them, a sudden wind and clap of thunder. “She chased me. Turns out, she could gate too.”

Samir turned. When this had happened—when it had been real—he’d been terrified. More than terrified. His mind had been pushed so hard, it had snapped.

Now he was simply tired. “You asked for a death.”

Color had bled from the world around them, and Sidaine’s movements slowed. Samir raised his hand, a pantomime of what had actually happened. “You hear stories of fights between wizards. You expect something dramatic. Something creative. I don’t know. Maybe some battles are like that.”

Samir spread his fingers. “But in that moment I wasn’t actually a wizard. I was will and pain. I was terror and power. I was…” The world around them went dark except for Samir and Sidaine. “I was death.”

Sidaine froze and a scream began, but never fully cleared her throat. Black lines raced through her, like poison in her veins, and then her body crumpled in on itself, collapsing into a fine black dust that blew away on the breeze.