Ozmanthas flows forward, disappearing around the curve of the Sentinel's behemoth form.

"Oz? What's happening?" Rhetrien's voice calls into the Link.

But he doesn't answer. We stand for several moments in silence, waiting in the near-darkness for something to happen.

And then the cavern comes to life. As though the mountain itself is a body, and the Sentinel is its heart. A thrum of energy, a first beat—like gravity in the initial instant, pulling inward—and then a sudden radiating outward pulse so strong I'm surprised it doesn't blow my hair back. The power of it reverberates in my mind.

My mother's face splits in an enormous smile.

"Oh, well done, Ozmanthas," she gushes. "Well done."

The Puppeteer prods our procession forward now as the Sentinel begins to shift. Warmth radiates from between its segments as the bonechrys veins take on a subtle glow. A sound of stone scraping on stone issues from up ahead and around the curve, accompanied by another like the distant buzzing of bees.

Light spills into our path as we round the bend. Then we're standing before a maw-like opening in the stone, awash in the violet glow that emanates from within. We turn to march through, while the guard carrying the lantern puts it out. When the last of us crosses the threshold, the opening closes like a pair of stony jaws snapping shut. Trapping us in a windowless chamber, lit only by the lichen growing overhead. It's large-but not large enough that I don't immediately begin to panic.

Seats are carved into the stone at intervals in the forward section, but the straps and cushions have largely disintegrated. There's what looks like a door set into the stone to the far end of the chamber, beyond which I can sense Oz's Ember, now vibrating at the same frequency as that of the Sentinel itself.

"How is this possible?" Saffryn's voice echoes through the link.

"The stories always said the Sentinels were undying," says Rhetrien, voice edged in wonder now.

"But...they were all supposed to have been cast into the depths!"

"This is a deep place, is it not?" Rhetrien sounds almost smug.

"The Chasm depths! In my nation. Not right under the noses of the Rhaji. Not right under the Grail!"

Howla's derisive laugh rings through our shared inner space. "What are Kolikai, without their secrets?"

The Puppeteer guides the others into what's left of the seats and I follow suit. In the same moment, the entire Sentinel begins to vibrate. Subtly at first, but growing stronger—then we're dragged upward in a sudden jerking movement, all of us gripping the arms of our seats. There's movement from below and more scraping...then we're hurtling forward and upward. There must have been a huge opening to the other side of the Sentinal that we couldn't see from around it.

"Firstborn be fucked. We're flying, aren't we?" For the first time ever, Howla sounds panicked.

"We are!" Saffryn's voice is transformed. Almost joyous. "I don't know how but we are!"

"Are you enjoying this?"

"I might as well," laughs the Solrathi Rhaj.

"Crazy Solrath snake," chokes Howla.

"I want to throw up, but I can't control my body," Thrall moans.

"Did you know this was here?" I ask into the crowded void.

The others all go silent.

"What?" Somehow, by the nature of the Link, Rhetrien could tell I was talking to them.

"Did you know there was a Sentinel down here? That they could use one of us to activate it?"

There's a long moment of silence.

"I didn't know for certain if there was. And no one really knows if the old legends are entirely true or how exactly the Sentinels really work."

"You might've mentioned the possibility," I say.

"It was just one of many, and not even the most plausible. And what could we have done about it?"

"Quiet. Please, quiet," groans Thrall the next moment as we seem to hit a swell of wind and lift sharply upward.

I can't decide which is worse—the way every lift and plunge sends my stomach into a series of sickening somersaults, or the feeling of being trapped in a giant stone coffin that's hurtling through the sky. I can't tell how long the flight lasts. Even as we speed forward the moments drag.

I just want it to be over. I want to get out and crumple up and cry. I've dreamt of this my whole life. Of seeing a real Sentinel. But I can't possibly enjoy this, even for a moment. Instead of my dream come true, I've been trapped inside a nightmare.

But at least I'm not trapped inside my own body, like the others.

Like Kaidin.

At the thought of Kai, something in me breaks. Tears flow down my cheeks, and I don't bother to try to stop them.

Kai.

I reach out across the web, searching for him, for everyone else that's been taken from me. We're closing in on Grailhold now. I sense their Embers as a whole first, before the individuals come clear.

But Kaidin isn't among them.

For a heartbeat, I panic. Then I notice the dark spots deep within Grail's Edge. The places my powers can't reach. Not one chamber of stalstone, but two. That other one must be where they're keeping the rest of the Heirs.

The Sentinel tilts downward, slows, and then comes to a vibrating halt. There's more scraping from without, and then the hatch grates open once more.

We step out into the cold night air, all save Ozmanthas—stars shimmering unobstructed overhead, the wind off the Lake of Life whipping my hair around my face. I twist my head around to look behind us, but the Sentinel's jaw is closing. It looks almost like a bat, though it's hard to compare it to anything, really. It's at once ancient and otherworldly, its stony plates ever-shifting, like its appearance.

Currently, its enormous articulated wings are folded to hook over the edge of a curved parapet, holding it in place. Hundreds of voices raise in a unified cheer—and I look ahead to find myself standing atop Morovin tower, surrounded by Morovani officials and beast-eater guards.

Prominent among them is Fabienne, who launches into a speech about national triumph and the Mirelands finally being on the cusp of retaking its true power. I study the back of her head—looking for signs she's turned beast-eater, too. I don't want to believe she was secretly working against the rest of my family this whole time. But if she is under the Puppeteer's control, she'd had to have been changed the very morning of the Revelry. It doesn't seem very likely.

But I don't have a chance to make much out before my khajra and I are being herded off again, down the stair and back to our stalstone prison in the depths—our purpose for the day fulfilled.

"That's it. It's over." Saffryn slumps in her walking chair the instant the door closes behind us. "Now that they've got a Sentinal, no one will be able to stand up to them."

"No." Howla shakes her head, pacing back and forth in front of her as Thrall rushes off to the bathroom to throw up. "No. I don't accept that. I'll be damned to the Depths if there's any way we're going back to a Morovani empire."

The Depths.

"Wait," I say, pushing away from the wall where I'd been leaning and taking a few steps further into the room. "There's one other Sentinal that's been found. Now that we can fly—"

"They'll be taking us there next," finishes Rhetrien, uncrossing their arms to run a hand through their hair.

"Two Sentinals," says Saffryn in disbelief. "Two."

Howla curses, falling onto her back across the bed and covering her face with her hand.

"Fuck."

"We have to try to escape." I say.

The others all look at me in surprise. "She needs us to awaken the Sentinels, right? It's got to be our bond to the Artifacts that connects us to them. I mean, they're made of pieces of the Sentinels themselves." I look to Rhetrien, who says nothing—their jaw set.

"We have to try," I repeat.

"Even if we manage to get out of range of the Puppeteer's control, they'll be able to track us anywhere using our guards," says Rhetrien, voice strained.

"We won't be trying to get away from Grailhold. We'll be trying to get to them. The Puppeteer. We need to kill them. And if we can't do that...we do whatever else we can. If we could find and destroy the medicine they use to control the beast-eaters—"

"But our families," says Saffryn. "Your mother..."

"You know what they would tell us to do," I say, thinking of my mother, of Ula, of Kaidin and all the rest and fighting back more tears.

The bathroom door swings open and Thrall emerges. I can tell from his expression that he heard it all. He meets my eyes and nods.

"I vote we try," he signs.

A look passes from one to the next of us. An agreement. There's no need for the rest to vote.

It's decided.