“Look at its eyes. Look at it trembling.”
She was right. The hand gripping Syarthis quivered, and sap trickled like tears from several of its eyes.
“I don’t think itwantsto hurt her,” Ellery said.
A sound escaped Hanna, a quiet hiss,“Take… risk?”
At first, Domenic was certain he’d misheard. But of course Syarthis had to be capable of speech. It knew humans, had bonded with dozens of wielders and devoured countless memories from countless minds.
He couldn’t risk it hurting Hanna, but he also couldn’t wastetime deliberating. Every second he squandered brought them closer to Alderland’s doom.
Yet before either he or Ellery reacted, another glow shined from Syarthis, searing Hanna’s throat.
Immediately, Domenic raised Valmordion.
Invading Syarthis bore no resemblance to invading Maltherius. Despite the two entities being counterparts, Syarthis had spent a millennium as a wand. It was more human. It knew how to defend itself from another’s mind.
It knew how to fight back.
At once, a terrible pressure pulsed within Domenic’s skull. Memories he hadn’t dwelled on in years were suddenly pried open: thirteen-year-old Hanna dragging Domenic along for an abominable Saturday at the Aldrish History Museum; Domenic lying that her first train ticket to Gallamere had been paid for by the Order when really it was his parents who did; the week Domenic had lurked alone and unsure in Iseul’s home, after he’d been discharged—and she hadn’t.
Domenic whimpered at the pain of it—his skull pounding, his heart breaking. He wrenched open his eyes, and the memories faded. But so, too, did his tether to Syarthis.
“Dom, are you all right?” Ellery asked.
“I-I…” he sputtered, but he was too ashamed to answer.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t save her like she’d once saved him.
“How can I help you?” Ellery urged.
Domenic swallowed. It felt like a betrayal to need her to.
But as he closed his eyes to try again, another memory shuddered through him: the spit on his and Hanna’s hands as they shook them, a solemn vow.
You and me,twelve-year-old Domenic had declared.We’re going to be great together.
“I-I need you to hold back Syarthis’s power,” Domenic gasped. “Please. I’m Summer. I’m connected to Syarthis, just likeall the wands here. But I can’t focus enough to subdue it if all I’m thinking about is… is how much this feels like that day.”
“I’ll block the worst of it,” Ellery said. And though Domenic didn’t see her cast her spell, at once, he felt the relief of it. The pain drilling into his temples eased to a subtle pinch.
Domenic pushed against the pressure of Syarthis’s magic with all the force he had. And, like sediment collapsing, the pressure caved in. Suddenly, though his eyes were closed, hesawthings. Roots that extended in all directions, thousands and thousands of them—like the entire vastness of the alban network contained in a single wand. Countless spider-thin hairs sprouted from the roots, twitching, and the longer he stared at any particular one, the more it unraveled. As he touched a finger to one in his mind, he saw images. He saw memories.
He was in Syarthis’s Archives.
It was so different than the pilfered hoard Domenic had always imagined. It was wilder, more primordial. But of course it resembled a tree, when Syarthis itself was crafted from—
Distantly, he heard a thump. With effort, Domenic opened a single eye to see Hanna lying limp in Ellery’s arms. Hanna’s skin had gone flushed. Blisters peeled across the hand that held Syarthis, just as the invasion of Valmordion’s power had burned Tej Kumar. But no sooner did terror seize Domenic than Hanna’s wounds receded.
“Syarthis is healing her,” Ellery said, her relief a mirror to his own.
“How did you betray Summer?” Domenic asked Syarthis again, fiercer this time.
In his mind’s eye, the Archives’ roots rustled. One of the closest tendrils began to glow gold, and the moment Domenic touched it, the light brightened, and its memory unfurled.
“I’m in one of Hanna’s memories,” Domenic breathed. “In it, she’s here. In the Vault. And it’s…”
It was the very night Hanna had dragged Domenic here for hisintervention. He could tell because of her muddied boots and the humidity of Summer still clinging to the air. Yet Domenic was no longer with her, and despite the scene happening from Hanna’s vantage point, he realized instinctively this wasn’t her memory at all—it was Syarthis’s. It had been controlling her, even then.
