“Pretty much.”
As she gathered herself, dimly, she realized a crowd of magicians had thronged around them. Many of them cheered, applauding, embracing. But not all. At least a third backed away, pointing with trembling hands.
Not at the carnage before them.
Ather.
Ellery knew why: frost drifted from her every exhale; her blue eyes beamed like spotlights; her shadow coiled at her feet, eddying and shifting.
Yet as she moved to sheathe Iskarius, she felt a heartbeat, echoing beside her own.
Just like she’d felt Decibel’s.
Whatever the other magicians saw, whatever they thought, she kept hold of Iskarius. She had no choice.
“Dom,” she said hoarsely. “One of the Dire Three. It’s here.”
Domenic’s eyes widened, then he spun to face the crowd. He yelled something at them, but not even Ellery could hear it as strange cobalt lightning detonated overhead. But rather than reach toward the earth, it stretched horizontally, as if a lattice of shattered glass covering the storm from edge to edge.
People scattered, screaming, as the lightning receded, each bolt drawing back toward a center. Then, in a cyclone of whirling snow and cloud, a giant shape loomed over them. Its icy body was as large as any building in the compound.
“It’s Thundersnow!” Domenic shouted to her, horrified.
Before Ellery could even nod, above them, the lightning gathered to specific points: a twin set of eyes in a humanoid face; a crackling network of antlers. Its body was studded with debris, entire trees frozen within its torso.
Its heartbeat boomed. It rattled her rib cage. It chattered her teeth. And a name rose in her, erupting like thunder.
“No, Kythion,” she corrected frantically. “Its name is Kythion.”
Domenic gawked. Yet he didn’t question how she possibly knew that. “But that sounds like…”
“Like a wand,” she finished.
“Shit.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Shit. Well, if it has a name, what about the other two?”
“I didn’t hear anything when we fought Decibel. But they must, right? The Dire Three aren’t like other ghasts. And when one of them’s close, like this…” Ellery stared up at the monster again. The storm swirled around its body, traveling with each of its tremendous, creaking steps. “I understand how this sounds. But Iknowthem somehow. They feel… significant.”
Domenic froze, and Ellery swallowed, aware of just how unnerving her statement was. Aware of their remaining onlookers.
“Targath. Syarthis. Ravfiri,” he said gravely.
Ellery blinked. “What?”
“Everything you just said about those ghasts, that they’re different, significant, that’s how I feel about those wands. And there’s three of them, the most powerful of each class of magic. El, that can’t be a coincidence.”
“So you think they’re, what,counterpartsto these things? You think wands are… aremonsters?” Ellery’s voice grew higher, shriller. “That’s not… That can’t be…” She trailed off as a figure detached from the darkness and jogged toward them. Ellery squinted at their unseasonal shorts, their utter lack of gear. Peak.
Domenic followed her gaze, then cursed. “You and me, we’ll figure this out later.”
“Y-yeah.”
Finally, Ellery dared to examine the wand she had created, its silver core and icy tip, its thorn-studded vines. Ellery had used Iskarius to fling open her bedroom curtains and find spare pairs of shoes. She’d used it to fortify an ancient network of trees. She’d used it to slay the monsters she believed she’d been born to fight. And not once had she asked herself where such tremendous power had truly come from.
“But Dom, if what you’re saying is true, then what thefuckare Val and Izzy?”
Hauntedly, Domenic glanced at Valmordion. Its golden heart seemed to blaze within his eyes.
“Later,” he repeated, a promise, a plea.
