Mom was right. The last time I’d fought the Arcade, she’d been careless enough to let us get close.
“She doesn’t look particularly concerned,” Poppy added.
The silver magic fled the city faster, as if her appetite was growing.
“She’s showing off,” I said.
“What happens if she sucks it all up?” Mom said.
“Nothing good.”
“We can’t just stand here.” Mom wound up like she was going to throw a baseball, then chucked a ball of fire into the air in the direction of the Arcade.
The fireball burned itself out a few dozen feet from Daniel’s building.
“Mom! You can’t just—chuck fireballs off a building!”
“You got a better idea?”
Manhattanhenge, still aligned with the city grid, bore down on all of us, painting the Arcade inferno orange.
Poppy tried next, launching a respectable fireball that again fell far short of the target. She leaned over as if winded. “Why do I feel soknackered?”
“If she’s sucking up all the magic, it’s not as easy for you to access it,” I said. “And the longer we stand here, the worse it will get.” I pulled off my gloves and conjured fire in my cupped hands by thinking of hot kitchen things: ovens, griddles, elements. The flames sprang to life and inflated to beach ball size. I lifted the fireball and hurled it in the direction of the Arcade.
It soared, then winked out short of the target. Farther than Mom’s, but shorter than Poppy’s.
“Damn it,” I said.
“What if the three of you worked together?” Berron said. “Pool your fire magic.”
Mom, Poppy, and I looked at each other. What was there to lose?
“Come on.” I held my bare hand palm-up. “It’s worth a shot.”
“What do we do?” Mom said.
“Imagine you’re fueling a fire. Same thing you do as when you prepare to throw a fireball, only you’re going to concentrate on aiming it right here.” I moved my hand up and down like I was weighing a ball of dough. “I’ll pull the magic away from you and throw it. Got it?”
Mom nodded.
Their magic poured into my hand. It swirled around and around as if that ball of dough had been thrown into a mixer on high speed. Following the pattern of its spin, I waited until it glowed so brightly silver I could hardly look at it—then I launched it.
The silver cannonball flew high, arcing even higher than we stood on top of the building, before tumbling downward and burning out short of the Arcade.
We missed.
But we’d drawn her attention.
Her head turned until her glowing eyes had us in their sights. Though I should have been blinded by them, like headlights, instead darkness descended, like she’d swallowed Manhattanhenge along with the magic.
In the dark place, came her voice.
Zelda.I have finished the work your grandmother’s generation began. The barrier is sealed at last. I will take all the magic, until there is none left; until everything is peaceful.
As you always wished it to be.
“I never asked for that!”
