Isla raised her staff, twirling one end in the air. The mist around Nostrand twisted into giant snakes. Their heads split into wide maws. Streaks of mists hardened into icy teeth.

They lunged at the Enchanter, who had not moved an inch from where he stood.

"Ventus."

A gust of wind blew from the top of the ziggurat, blowing away the jaws bearing down on the former King. I ducked under the hail of icicles, squinting into the wind.

"Now!"

Castille and Dugan emerged from the mist with their weapons raised, flanking Nostrand from opposite sides of the terrace.

They're alive!

Nostrand blocked Dugan's axe with his staff and met Castille's sword with his own in the bind. Castille pushed forward, sliding her sword along his blade until their cross-guards met. She raised her left arm, wrapping it around the stone blade and securing it between her elbow and breastplate. With her right hand, she slammed her cross guard into the flat of Nostrand's sword, knocking it free and disarming the Enchanter.

"Impressive… for a slave."

"Slave?!"

Castille tossed the stone sword over the terrace edge and raised her longsword for a pommel strike to the Enchanter's face.

"Fractus."

The longsword exploded in a shower of metal. Castille adverted her eyes as chunks of steel bit into her face.

Nostrand raised his left hand.

"Forma."

Mist condensed around it to create a sword of ice to swing down on Castille's head.

"No!"

A stream of fire leapt from my hand, melting the icy sword to the hilt before it split her skull.

Dugan held Nostrand's staff with his free hand. With his other hand, he hooked his axe around the coiled snakes to pry it out of the Enchanter's grip.

Nostrand ripped his staff free, spinning with the momentum to slam the butt of the staff against Castille's head.

She ducked to grab her face, avoiding the attack. Nostrand stopped mid-spin, levelling the ruby-headed staff in my direction.

"For-"

A chunk of ice smashed into the back of his head, and then another and another. Isla was condensing the mist into blocks of ice that careened into Nostrand's upper body.

Thor darted out of the mist, biting down on the back of Nostrand's white robe to drag him to the ground.

Dugan dodged the projectiles to run to Castille's side, placing a healing hand over her bloody face.

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I burned more will, sending a gout of fire to engulf his head. It wouldn't hurt him, but it would keep him distracted.

Shay was right. The best defence against an Enchanter was offence. Don't give him time to act—time to think.

He spun on his heels, trying to bat Thor off his back with his staff, unbalanced by the repeated blows of ice to his body.

It was working!

If we could get him on the ground, stop him from speaking, pry out his eyes-

"LAPIDES FRACTI!"

Nostrand's voice boomed. The air crackled with power, and the glowing stone of the ziggurat cracked into a jagged ring around the Enchanter. Fingers of stone shot from the cracks, knocking Thor off Nostrand's robe and sending a wave of rock in every direction.

Castille and Dugan disappeared into the mist. The earthen tide pushed me off my feet, sending me tumbling down the stairs. Lost in the mist, there was no up or down—only the jolts of pain as my body bounced on the stone steps. I rolled to a stop on my stomach.

Everything hurt—an oddly nostalgic feeling. The last time I was in this condition, I was in bed, surrounded by people who cared about me.

Now, where was I?

I lifted my head.

The dust in the air mingled with the mist, raining flakes of mud on my clothes.

If Nostrand didn't kill me, Shay would.

I got to my knees, struggling to breathe the moist, polluted air. I blinked until the world made sense and my vision cleared. The glowing stairs of the ziggurat were beside me, and on the other side was the ring of carts.

I was at the base of the ziggurat.

Above me, through the clouds of mist and dust, the sound of battle still raged.

I needed to be there.

I needed to…

The thump of heavy footfalls vibrated the ground. Past the ring of carts, red crystal eyes glinted through the fog.

The stone men were coming.

No, the stone men were here.

They had broken free of Dugan's vines, and now they were marching to save their King.

I struggled to my feet, falling back to the stairs as they barreled through the ring of carts.

The wooden carts splintered. Stone bodies toppled to the ground in their desperate charge to the ziggurat.

They slowed down when they saw me, lowering their spears to attack.

Great.

Their weapons had better reach, and there were too many to pick off one at a time with my dagger.

I retreated a few steps up the stairs, letting a tongue of fire ignite over my hand.

They spread out in a wide semi-circle, continuing their wary advance. As soon as I committed to an attack, I would create an opening for them to counterattack. My flanks were exposed, and the staircase was too wide to create a bottleneck.

I continued my backward climb up the stairs while I strategized.

My only advantage was fire, but fire wouldn't work against stone. They knew that. That's why they were content to wait for an opening. What I needed was a bomb, but I'd given my last one to Isla.

I told her I didn't need it. Now, I needed to prove it.

An explosion—I needed to create an explosion, but how?

My eyes widened at the realization.

I'd done it before.

When I was on the roof of the building in the Undertown. When I created the fire that sent me tumbling over the roof's edge.

An explosion is just a rapidly expanding fire.

I stared down at the tongue of flame flickering in my hand and curled my fingers. The fire shrank into itself and burned hotter, shifting in colour from red to a light orange. I winced—a searing pain burning into the center of my palm.

For fire to expand, it must first be compressed.

In a way, it made sense.

As much sense as Van Lagos burning the poison out of his blood.

At that moment, I understood what years of training and Isla's lectures couldn't teach me. It wasn't about being rational or scientific. It was about the intuitive nature of magic—the stuff of dreams, imagination, and will.

I tore my eyes away from the pale fire in my hand to stare at my enemies. They were climbing the stairs.

It was now or never.

I lobbed the fire into the faces of advancing heavies. I poured will into the flame in a sudden rush to force it to grow.

BOOM!

The fireball exploded in a low roar of red flames. I covered my face from the wave of heat washing over me.

It worked! It actually-

THUNK!

I stumbled back from a force that punched me below the ribs. A burning pain followed that forced me to look down.

My breath caught.

A green-tipped spear protruded from my stomach—seeing it made me double over in pain. I pulled out the spear, letting it clatter on the stone steps. The jacket blunted most of the force, leaving a shallow wound in the fabric and flesh, but there was another problem.

I'd just been poisoned.

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