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"Like Cronus did in Olympus," Emlyn murmured, crossing his arms over his chest and hugging his middle.
"He turned it to rubble and remade it in his own twisted image," Wynvail said angrily, sorting through the boxes and shelves beside him, looking for something. "Now it's dark and fucked up and unrecognisable. I'm guessing that's the plan for New York and all those other places."
"When he remakes them," Harvey asked, his hands curling into fists, "do you think that gives him power over those cities? Do you think he can see anyone, anywhere?"
None of us answered. We didn't need to—the answer seemed obvious.
I tightened my grip on Kai's hand; he squeezed back with the same force, terror bouncing from his soul to mine and back to his.
"So if he reduces Edinburgh to rubble, we're screwed," Verena laughed sharply, nothing humorous in the sound at all.
"We're going to be fine," Emlyn said, nothing but calm. "We'll go back to Hell. We'll be safer there—"
"It's my shadow he's using. My magic," Wane hissed, the news sinking in—and detonating rage through his soul so vast that I felt it even through his shields. "He stole it from me, and he's using it to do this? To demolish whole cities? To wreck homes and livelihoods, to ruin people's lives? To fucking kill them?"
Harvey stalked across the room, squeezing past Kai and I, and wrangled his twin into a tight hug. "It's not your fault."
Fuck. My stomach bottomed out.
"Of course it's not," I breathed, my eyes burning. "None of this is your fault, Wane. You were captive and tortured."
And if we were playing the blame game, Cronus only managed to harvest one of his shadows when Wane sensed me through the bond, and it made him weak. He would never admit that to me, but I could put two and two together and come up with four. But I was too panicked right now to fully experience self-loathing.
"Why not take over the whole world?" Wane demanded bitterly, hugging Harvey tight. "Why only some cities? He has my shadow—he can remake the whole fucking world. Why not?"
Wynvail riffled through boxes, removing items—and putting them into various satchels. Huh. "Because he can't," he bit out, casting a quick look at Wane before returning to his task. "He only took a small amount of your magic, didn't he?"
"He'd have taken more if you hadn't come for me," Wane muttered.
Harvey yanked on a lock of Wane's chestnut hair, earning a warm look.
"You held out for a hundred years," Wyn said firmly, plundering his shelves next. "Do you have any idea how fucking hard that is? How strong you must be to survive even a year? Fuck, Wane, go a little easier on yourself."
Emlyn nodded emphatically, reaching out to squeeze Wane's shoulder when he disentangled himself from his brother.
"My point is," Wynvail went on, "what if he doesn't have enough shadow magic to take over the whole world? What if he only had enough for these cities?"
"So he chose strategically," Kai muttered. "Picking the most powerful cities, the ones that would screw up human morale the worst."
And it was working. I wasn't even human, and my morale was shot to bits.
"Or this was a test," Wane said, pushing hair from his face, his expression dark and thunderous, "and he'll take over the rest of the world now he knows it works. It's only been an hour since the darkness fell."
"Why isn't this house in ruins?" I murmured, my brows tugging together. "The city's under darkness—the curtain, whatever we're calling it. Why is it not collapsing?"
It wasn't … right? Fuck, if it turned to ash around us, I was going to scream.
"The whole world is under the curtain," Em answered with a calculating look in his eye. "Everywhere's dark, but not everywhere is demolished."
"Because he doesn't have enough shadow magic," Wynvail insisted, giving Wane a firm glance.
I didn't like the sharp bite of bitterness in Wane's soul, but I'd be pretty damn bitter myself after a century of torture and imprisonment. He had every right to the emotion.
"Then he'll come back for more," Wane said, his hands curling into fists, subconsciously mirroring his brother’s action.
"That's why I'm packing up the armoury." Wynvail fastened one of the beige canvas bags and handed it to Wane. "They're as tailored to your skills and magic as I can make them with fifteen minutes' notice. But this shit doesn’t come with labels or instructions, so only use it if absolutely necessary. Got it?"
Wane nodded, confused, and peered into the bag.
