Her first words to me are as simple as my own— simpler, even. She just says “How?”

  It takes me a moment to gather myself again, swept up as I am in the atmosphere. I almost forget about the viscera clinging to my skin and clothes—replacing it with the sight of her. Her capture hasn’t diminished her beauty, not even by a fraction. Though her hair do with a good wash, it’s silken as ever; and those eyes of hers speak to her resolve. There’s a spark inside that tells me, at me, that she would have found a way from this place even without my intervention.

  Somehow, someway, I manage to start up once more. “W-well, I—”

  “It’s a very inspiring story, I’m sure,” Aidan interrupts, “but we’ve gotta go! I’m all tapped out, and if we have to fight anymore, I’m gonna get myself killed.”

  Adeline looks over at him, dumbstruck— just from one look I can tell she’s lost in some memory or another. “Aine?” She asks.

  “Aidan now, actually— Sybil, you can get this open, right?” He says, beckoning for me to open up her cell.

  After fumbling for a moment, my hand finally makes its way toward those iron bars. After two narrow casts of [Transmutation]

  I offer a hand to her—one that she takes into her own—and help her step out of the cell. Finally free, though I know I can only truly say that once we’ve ridden this place of our presence. Once we’ve left Hyperion.

  “Do you still have some potions left, Sybil?” Aidan asks. And I realize that, in my foolishness, I had forgotten about Maeve and Aisling—not dying, but certainly unconscious. Certainly bearing wounds that need healing. And I, so caught up in rescuing Adeline, didn’t even extend the luxury of a potion toward them.

  I turn away from her for what I hope is the last time, reaching down into my bag and withdrawing two bottles. I ask Adeline, “Are you well enough to run?” It takes her a moment, but she nods.

  Out we go, where the siblings still remain. They’re force-fed a potion each and, though they don’t awaken immediately, their wounds seem to mend along with their breathing coming to a steady rhythm.

  Aidan, in a rush to escape from our predicament, slings Aisling over his shoulder and looks back to me, clearly waiting for me to do the same. Lucky for me, then, that Maeve is a mage rather than a hardened warrior. Still, even light as she is, I’m surprised that I’m able to pick her up and carry her. It isn’t without effort, of course, but it’s done without the aid or assistance of [Telekinesis]

  We begin down the hall filled with corpses and weapons—at one point, I see Aidan lean down to pick up something. His crossbow? He grimaces at it before continuing on.

  Adeline doesn’t seem to be bothered by the sight. It’s fortunate, because it only grows worse as we get closer to the entrance. Instead, she asks as we jog out, “Is that Maeve and Aisling?”

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  I reply, “Cairbre’s nieces, yes—they insisted on coming along. They’ve been a big help.”

  There’s silence, then, besides our pitter-patter and the pained moans of the soldiers that still live. In that wordless place, where we all make way toward our escape, I can’t help but feel as if I’ve been thrust into the middle of a dream. As if none of , none of the day’s events, have actually happened. But they have. I come to terms with it once we ascend the final step, once the five of us are outside once more.

  It’s stunning outside, with the moon casting a glow on the dozens of towers in the city. An eerie silence has taken hold of this place now that every soldier has died or fled. Here in this moment, Ashglen almost feels like it’s resting at the bottom of the sea. I know that still feeling won’t hold for long, though. This is the calm before the storm—and so I force myself to keep moving.

  Along the wall we go, with the flickering flames of a palace to our side—almost having run their course through the massive building. It’s hard to tell through the smoke and ash how it holds now, but I’m certain that by the time morning comes around it will be nothing more than a stone husk. Adeline seems curious about it, but she doesn’t speak a word.

  Through gates and over fences, along paths paved and paths only officiated through footfalls. Then, we find ourselves returned once more to the back garden, where this all began.

  Across the way is the hole we made only a couple of hours ago, a plain exit from this city. Our way out. As we approach it, I can see the tall grass outside—those expansive plains. Just like old times, we’ll camp out as we make our trek back to Tirsollain; we’ll cook all sorts of bashed-together things, and then revel in the feeling of being surrounded by the niceties of the dwarves. And…

  A voice says—a voice that I recognize. It rolls along the garden from behind us like a fog, a mist—and that singular word is enough to cause my knees to buckle beneath me and my hold on Maeve to weaken.

  “Do you think me so impolite as to allow my guests to wander off into that lonesome dark?” She continues, and I can feel it in the marrow of my bones. Humming, buzzing, . Selene—it’s her. It’s her. But what… What are we going to do?

  Adeline is unmoving, but I can feel as Aidan draws his crossbow, aims and fires it in her direction in a panic. He isn’t feeling it as strongly as me, but he —intrinsically knows—that this woman is dangerous.

  She says, “You aren’t unimpressive, but you're not the one I’m interested in, half-Cirix.” Some glistering energy pierces through his bolt, sending it clattering to the ground. A piercing pair of eyes are staring at me, peering into my soul. It feels like wriggling fingers are driving their way into my flesh, exploring the depths of me.

  No words—none from our party.

  “Have you nothing to say to me, Sorcery-Inheritor?” Her voice drips with venom and eager anticipation.

  It isn’t a conscious choice; language has abandoned me. No words spring to my mind, no choice sentences—nothing. Everything hangs there for a moment, until the bands around my lungs seem to loosen a bit.

  “S-Selene…” I say.

  “Sybil Sagecrest.” She replies, “You overcame Josephine?”

  I wince. It feels like I have to put myself back together each time in order to speak. “Yes.” I say.

  “Does her corpse still lay in that burning building, then?”

  Adeline’s shoulders slump a little, and she takes in a sharp breath. Then I say, “She isn’t dead.”

  “Is that so? You’ll have to tell me the rest of the story over dinner.” A golden glow fills the air, but I’m unable to will my body to turn back to look at it. Instead, each word she speaks sends my thoughts scattering—memories swirling about. Flashes and images, bits and pieces. A few of them aren’t my own. Emotions accompany those foreign memories: a constricting frustration and a flash of that nearly drives me to my knees.

  “Now,” she says, “would you all be so kind as to accompany me?”

  A clap rings out as a flash of black feathers appear on the top of the wall in front of us. I’ve been freed—somehow—by this interruption, my body under my control once more.

  Two figures stand there, one shorter than the other. It’s hard to see them, as if they’re standing in shadow. The taller one looks down and says, “Stop bullying the young ones, Selene.”