“Rune,” he whispered as she lowered him to the ground. “Do me a favor? Tell my brother I love him.”

Her eyes burned. She shook her head, cradling him against her. “You can tell him yourself.”

The sudden sound of guns going off, of bullets whizzing overhead, made Rune look up. She heard shouting and boots thudding in unison. Saw a sea of red uniforms flood the square.

The Blood Guard army had arrived. Alongside trained soldiers marched average citizens, advancing toward the witches. There had to be thousands of them. Merchants and dockworkers. Mothers and sons. Patriots who would rather risk their lives than see the Reign of Witches resurrected.

They were swarming the square. Surrounding the witches.

We’re done for.

Rune glanced at Cressida, whose face had gone white, her mouth a grim line.

“What’s happening?” asked Alex.

“This is the end,” said Rune. “It’s all over.”

Alex lifted his hand to her face, bringing her attention back to him.

“I want you to do one last thing for me.”

Rune pulled him tighter, closer. As if her embrace alone could stem Death’s tide. “Hush. Don’t tax yourself.” She would hold on to him until they killed her and pried him out of her cold, lifeless arms.

He lifted his other hand toward her, cradling her face now as warm blood seeped out of his chest wound, soaking Rune’s clothes and pooling onto the stones. “I don’t have long. But you … you have a whole life ahead of you. Rune. I want you to live it.”

She closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter now.” She lowered her lips to his hair. Even if they could survive this, she’d lost everything. Everyone knew what she was. Gideon wanted her dead. And now Alex …

“I’m begging you, Rune. Save yourself.”

She shook her head. The acrid smell of gunpowder burned in the air once more. Any moment, the Blood Guard would start picking them off one by one. Cressida was powerful, but she couldn’t single-handedly stop an army aided by thousands of determined patriots.

Her eyes were still closed when Alex took her hand in his and pressed her palm to his chest, where the bullet had gone in. His blood was warm and wet beneath her skin.

“I’m giving you permission.”

Her eyes fluttered open. What?

“You’ve only ever cast small spells and illusions because you’ve never had enough fresh blood to do more.”

Her brows knit. “What are you saying?”

“Use my blood. I won’t require it much longer.” He smiled, a little sadly. “Take as much of it as you need.”

“I … I can’t.” But she could, and they both knew it. Magic only corrupted a witch if blood was taken against someone’s will. “Even if I could, what would be the point?”

His eyes dimmed.

“The point is to live,” he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “The point is to let me give you this one small thing, because I couldn’t give you the rest.”

Rune touched her forehead to his, her chin quivering.

“Promise me my death isn’t for nothing, Rune. Tell me you’ll use it to save yourself.”

She shook her head no.

“Please.”

Rune squeezed her eyes shut, knowing it was selfish to refuse him. If their positions were reversed, she’d be begging him to do the same.

If she was going to lose him, she could give him this one last thing. Couldn’t she?

“All right.” Her voice shook. Tears dripped. “I promise.”

With his hand in her hair, Alex pulled her mouth down to his, kissing her one last time.

Rune kissed back, that small spark flickering inside her. A spark that would never get the chance to grow into a steady flame.

She kissed him until his chest fell and didn’t rise again beneath her palm. Until his last breath died on her lips.

When she pulled away, his golden eyes were calm as a glassy sea. Reflecting the stormy sky overhead.

Alex was gone.

A sob surged from her depths. She wanted to stay weeping over him. To lie down beside him until death came for her, too.

It was the promise she’d made him that stopped her. She couldn’t break it.

The world spun like she’d stepped into the eye of a hurricane. The air smelled of blood and smoke, magic and gunshots. As Rune recalled the pages of her grandmother’s spell books, the shouting soldiers and cracking pistols seemed to go quiet and still.

She’d skimmed through so many spells over the years, most of which she couldn’t cast because she didn’t have the blood required.

Now she did.

She needed to make the most of it.

Save yourself, Alex’s voice echoed in her mind.

As his body grew cold beneath her hand, Rune let his words guide her. She recalled the last spell book she’d opened, remembering a spell too powerful for a witch like her to cast.

Earth Sunderer.

The seven golden marks flared to life inside her mind.

With Alex still in her arms, she lifted her hand from his blood and started to draw on the stone slabs around them. It shouldn’t have been possible to remember them so clearly, but she did. She traced each mark into the ground, her hand guided by something nameless. Ancient. That familiar roar crashed in her ears. Brine bloomed on her tongue. That powerful wave was swelling, only this time, Rune was swelling with it. Her fingers moved as if possessed, the magic itself guiding her.

The moment she finished one mark, she started on the next.

Is this what being a witch is supposed to feel like?

Good. Easy. Right.

With an immense amount of fresh blood, nothing held her back. That ocean inside Rune wasn’t happening to her; it was her. She and the magic were one.

When she finished the last line of the final mark, encasing both her and Alex in a circle of glowing white symbols, her bloody fingers lifted from the earth. As they did, that thunderous wave crashed, shuddering through her, bursting out of her as the ground shook and an earsplitting roar tore the world in two.

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SIXTY-TWO GIDEON

GIDEON WATCHED HIS BROTHER collapse. Watched Rune catch him and sink to the ground beneath his weight. Watched Alex cradle Rune’s face in his hands, and Rune lean down to kiss him.

And that’s when Gideon’s steps faltered.

Because Alex didn’t want Gideon at his side. He wanted her there.

When he heard Rune’s heart-shattering sob, he knew his brother was gone.

His throat constricted. No …

Alex was dead. Killed by a bullet meant for Gideon.

All the color seemed to drain from the world.

I didn’t get to say goodbye.

He fell to his knees, hands fisting in the stones. He pressed his forehead to his fists, his whole body shaking at the loss of the last person he had left. A ragged cry ripped through him, tearing out of his throat.

Is this my lot? To fail everyone I love?

A sudden BOOM! resounded through the square. Gideon lifted his head to find the world gone dark. As if someone had swallowed the sun. He heard the cracking before he felt it: the earth quaking. Rising and falling beneath his feet. Like an unruly sea.

The metallic tang of blood magic spread through the air, mingling with another scent. Salt. Like the sea.

Gideon tried to rise, but kept losing his balance.

When the sunlight returned, he found a black chasm widening in front of him, separating him from his brother’s body, and into the void poured the ocean. Protecting the witches from those coming to kill them. Tearing the town square in half.

The ground continued to shake, forcing Gideon to step away from the edge, lest the shuddering earth thrust him over. As white waves churned, rushing to fill the gap, the dust from the earthquake rose into the air, turning it gray. His brother disappeared behind it.