In an instant, the hall erupted in cries and chaos as the rebels surged forward into the line of mages. Alara’s instincts told her to jump straight into the thick of the brawl, but she knew there were more important things to do. Even if the rebels won against the mages in the hall, it would mean nothing if the barrier didn’t come down.

The rebels had given her the distraction and time she needed.

Alara turned away from the fighting and looked at the spire. She dropped the ring of fire that surrounded them and felt the slight relief of releasing the magia. Her body was heavy and sore from how much she had been using her powers—more than she’d ever used them in her entire life—but there was no time to rest. She could see a few cracks had formed in the receptive, but the magia in the base still glowed strongly.

Alara flung fire toward the spire, hitting it and sending sparks and flaming wisps bouncing into the air. The surrounding air seemed to bend with the heat, and she threw another blast toward the base.

Nothing happened. No cracks or rumbles. The spire sat, unaffected.

“I need help,” Alara said, looking down to Runeo, who panted on the ground beside her. He met her eye, face slightly pale, but nodded. With a wince, Runeo snapped the shaft of the arrow in his shoulder. The point was still embedded in his shoulder, but he let the rest of it fall to the ground as he stood.

That little move would make the arrow harder to pull out, but for now, it’d at least be easier for him to move around.

“Okay,” he said.

With that, he and Alara sent magia crashing toward the spire again. At first, there was no change. Just a stubborn crystal giving no way to their magia. Thirty long seconds passed, and as the fire and wind pelted the quartz, could see the cracks within the receptive tremble.

Exhaustion bled through Alara’s body, somehow permeating her very core in a way she wasn’t used to. She wondered how Runeo was feeling. Her companion was pale and only using one arm as he flung his wind at the receptive. And he had more to worry about than spent magia.

Alara felt her energy flag. While the cracks had widened, she didn’t know if she and Runeo could do it alone. And then a new column of fire hit the spire. She turned to see Zinita smirking at them, the trademark malice reserved for Alara gone. Suri stood beside the bruya, sending her own magia toward the receptive.

And then Alara glimpsed the fighting and carnage for the first time since the network had entered the hall. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety as she saw a rebel magite crumple after getting stabbed with a spear.

Zinita and Suri ignored the chaos, focusing on the spire. Together, the fuegen and wind mage sent another column of magia at their target. Alara and Runeo took their cue and joined in. She felt her energy renew just slightly as new cracks started forming along the spire, the room almost trembling as it weakened.

Suddenly, Runeo broke off his attack. Alara turned just in time to see a spear being knocked away as it whistled past her. A magite glared back at them, and she recognized him at the same moment that Runeo did.

It was Micos.

She heard the sharp intake of breath beside her. But before she could say anything, Runeo had already picked up the loose spear and was gone, running to meet Micos.

Alara watched wide-eyed as the two clashed. Before the reformed bruya could recover, Runeo shoved the butt of his spear into Micos’s knees, trying to push him down. But the young bruya stood his ground, twisting his own spear toward Runeo’s thigh. It tore at the fabric of Runeo’s tunic as he stepped back. Micos wasted no time swinging the spear again, this time toward Runeo’s chest.

Alara watched in horror as she realized the truth of the fight. Runeo was trying to stop Micos. Micos was trying to kill Runeo. She knew who’d win the fight, and it made her stomach twist. She turned to assist Runeo, but before she could break off toward the fight, Zinita was beside her, hand gripped around her wrist.

“Your magia is stronger,” she said. “Focus on the spire.” With that, the bruya broke off her magia and ran toward Runeo and Micos.

Alara watched for a moment, her eyes traveling the room. She saw Emaru a few yards away, defending herself against five other mages.

“Come on!” Suri was beside her now, bringing Alara back to the spire. She nodded, and the two attacked the quartz once again. While the two of them weren’t as strong, the cracks within the spire had expanded. It was another few minutes before Alara felt her legs shaking.

She paused for a moment, letting go of her magia and looking at the chaos that surrounded her. Khuna was beside them now, fending off attacks. Her eyes sought Quenti and saw the other aguen fighting against a black-garbed councilguard.

Senye Cruz fought off a handful of mages that Alara only vaguely recognized in the distance. Nearby, Runeo and Micos still struggled, Runeo’s eyes red and shining even as he crossed spears with his brother.

Alara’s eyes searched for Zinita, when she finally caught the movement of her dark hair behind Runeo and Micos. Alara’s heart stopped. Zinita had a dagger clenched in her fist and was swinging it wildly at a councilguard that danced around her, spear raised. Alara would have recognized the young councilguard’s movements anywhere, even if she hadn’t seen his gray eyes.

“Alara, the spire!” Suri’s voice was loud in her ear, but Alara barely understood the words.

Zinita was lunging now, her dagger whipping toward Ardo’s unprotected hip.

“No!” Alara said, her feet moving toward councilguard with no thought. But she was too far away. The dagger’s blade made contact with Ardo’s hip, but before it could pierce deep, he had twisted and the butt of his spear slammed into Zinita’s jaw. She was too far away to hear, but Alara felt the crack as the bruya jerked back, stumbling over a fallen body behind her.

Ardo wasted no time bringing the spear down into the bruya’s stomach with a sickening spin of the spear. Zinita spit up blood, sparing one final venomous look toward her enemy before she fell back, unmoving and twisted among the other bodies.

Alara lurched forward, but felt the pull of arms behind her, wrapping her around the waist. Khuna’s voice was soft in her ear, murmuring something she couldn’t understand. As she felt the prickle of tears in the corner of her eyes, Ardo stumbled back into the crowd of mages, disappearing into the throng.

This wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t trust the Council or Emaru, but she felt like everything was falling apart. There were dead bodies of mages and magites scattered around the hall. Alara couldn’t even tell which were rebels and who wasn’t. Her stomach twisted and her breath became shallow.

It was in her moment of panic that Alara saw Emaru cut down the last two mages fighting her. Before Alara could make a move, the woman’s eyes had swiveled to her, pupils blown wide. Alara felt the wind on either side of her as Suri and Khuna flew back.

And then Emaru was in front of her. Before Alara could even reach for her own powers, she felt the air get pulled from her lungs.

This wasn’t like getting the wind knocked out of her—that sensation she was used to. No, this was an instance of air literally flying from her lungs. Alara tried to breathe but felt like she was underwater. Her eyes bulged and Emaru grabbed her by the arms, pulling her against her body and immobilizing her.

“I tried so hard with you,” the councilwoman said, her voice just above a whisper. “But I should have done this years ago.

With a sinking feeling of dread, Alara saw the mind-walker Luis wading through the crowd of fighters a few yards away. His face was pale and his tunic was still torn and bloody, but Alara could see the white scar of a healed wound on his stomach. An earth mage had saved him from his wounds down in the dungeon.

Alara tried to pull herself from Emaru’s icy grip, a feeling of panic rising in her chest as she struggled to breathe. She could feel Emaru’s nails digging into her skin and felt blood seeping down her arm. Luis was grinning widely as he seemed to float toward her, his hand outstretched.

Still, Alara writhed and struggled to find a soft place to hit Emaru—anywhere to escape the inevitable. And then Alara felt the hilt of a dagger in Emaru’s belt. She twisted her hand, trying to get a grip on the cool hilt, but found it to be anchored in place. She tugged desperately one more time before she registered Luis’ hand coming down on her head, his palm callused and warm.

She felt her vision going black on the edges as his magia surged, threading its way into her mind, plucking at her thoughts, searching for something. As he pruned the thread of a memory, Alara could feel the essence of it slowly disappear.

The sense of mourning lasted a moment. But then it was gone. Along with whatever memory was cleansed. Was anything missing? And then he plucked again, twisting, yanking. She saw Mama’s face as the man plucked at the memory of her.

Alara’s anger rose and her hand clenched the hilt of the dagger tighter. The dagger seemed to grow warm and then hot as she gripped it. Suddenly, Alara felt magia flowing not from her own core, but from the dagger in her grip. She felt Emaru stumble back, dagger slipping from her belt. The air returned to Alara’s lungs in full force. She took a deep breath, pushing back at Luis, whose eyes were now wide as his hand still held to her head. It was the first time Alara had seen any semblance of fear in his eyes.

She pushed back at his memories, twisting his own magia back on himself. Now she was in his mind, seeing his memories. She saw him, younger than he was now, hair a pure golden brown and forehead missing his deep set wrinkles.

And she saw herself, only four or five, kneeling in front of him, eyes empty as his hand rested on her forehead.

A scream rang out in Alara’s head. A scream she recognized but could not place.