Architecti darts across the campus cobbles and picks up the ribbons of Alistair’s magic, then flies them across to the other side of Finis Tower, tightening the gap and bringing the edges together.
“Can you seal them?”she asks.
I hesitate.Her face swims in and out of focus.Can I?Alistair should really be doing this.Or ideally any teacher more experienced than me.But half the professors are limping towards the medical wing, a handful are dead and the rest went with the students who ran.
“You have this, Midnight,” Alistair says through a groan of agony.
I chew my bottom lip, the need for answers not just about Lucy but about my future driving me through the blotting vision and the blood gushing from my nose.
I have to hold on.
A little longer.
A few more stitches.
The shredded fabric flaps around, but I catch one notch after another and I sew.Magic throbs between my fingers, and deep inside me another form of magic entirely hollers for release.It ferments deep in my gut, sizzling my insides as it tries to escape.My muscles sear with the strain.The air fills with the scent of smoke and sour milk.I gag, retching up blood as my vision smatters.
“One more stitch,” Alistair says through gritted teeth.
I sweep my hands through one more time.
My face and neck are drenched with sweat.Chin smothered in blood.I lose my grip on reality as my vision splatters pink.
The last stitch seals.
It’s done.
And so am I.
The magic releases and I drop to the cobbles next to Alistair.My vision whites out before sucking me into darkness.
I come to, in the arms of soft feathers.The warmth cradling me is strange.Ageless and unsettling and yet a comfort, nonetheless.
“Thank you,” a voice says.It’s raspy but calming.
I sit bolt upright, realising it’s Architecti.
“Do not fear me,” she says.Her strange hybrid moth flutters around her head.
“The only thing I fear is Ignatius taking my soul,” I say, but the strain of speaking makes my entire body coil up in pain.I pushed too hard, used too much magic.Am I dying?
She nods sagely.“You believe you can save your soul?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”I cough.My lips taste metallic.That doesn’t seem like a good sign.
“That you are.You reaped her soul, and I have not forgotten the debt I owe you.I am sorry for your loss.I think it’s about time this city learned who I really am.And the lies they’ve been told.”
“Lies?”
“The Societas.Are there more of them?”she asks.
“Without doubt.”
Her mouth thins.“Then this isn’t over.My sister is using them to bring about the end of fate.”
She deposits me outside the medical wing, laying me carefully on the ground, and steps back and spreads her wings.
Her moth appears, shedding little fibres that twist and spin and unfurl into millions and millions of Architect moths.
