The first job we did. How she pretended she wasn’t afraid. How I told her she didn’t have to be because she wasn’t alone.
The late nights of drinking Bristara’s wine on the rooftop, swapping fantasies about the futures we’d steal for ourselves if the cards never deigned to give them to us.
The family we found in each other in the wreckage of all we’d lost.
“Don’t,” I breathe. But the sound is too small. Too fragile. And too late.
Her smile is steady and her resolve unwavering, even as her fingers tremble.
“The coffin is full. Have a glass of mulled wine for me,” she says softly, eyes shining with unshed tears.
My stomach drops.
“Stop her!” Emilia has noticed the card.
But it’s too late. The Queen of Cups is cast. It hovers in the air, shining blue. For a moment, I feel its power wash over me, sinking into my joints, mending my wounds. But the second passes in a blink, souring.
The magic begins to shine so bright it’s nearly blinding. Power swells almost like a bulging pustule behind the card.It’s too much for her.The Queen of Cups twists and turns upside down.
Reversed.
A sob claws its way up my throat. “Jura,no!”
“Go, Clara!” she shouts, but I can’t move. I’m stuck. “Don’t let me die for nothing!”
They’re trying to stop her, but it’s too late.
With Emilia and the Stellis distracted, I grab my deck and turn, and a sob escapes, as uncontrolled and frantic as my steps. Jura’s scream chases me—raw agony—splitting my ears as the magic swells.
There’s a snap. Unbearable. A crack of power that I imagine is what it would sound like if reality split in two.
A twisting fissure breaks across the earth. Emilia and the Stellis are shouting. Rock falls, blocking the path between us as a cerulean explosion knocks me back.
There’s a rush of water that quickly freezes into ice. I tumble down a sloped tunnel, gasping for air, catching my balance, losing it, finding it again. My screams mirror hers as the magic reverses; it twists and contorts Jura into something inhuman.
She’s dying.
She’s dying, and I’m running.
Tears stream down my cheeks as the earth implodes. Fractures race beneath my feet. The tunnel collapses behind me. But I keep running.
I keep running, even as the chorus of her screams and the groans of the earth turn to silence.
Just like that, my friend is gone.
Chapter 13
I run. And run. Andrun.
I don’t know how far. I don’t remember the twists and turns. The tunnels stretch endlessly before me, black as plain ink, as though I’ve finally been consumed by the endless void that I’ve always felt one wrong step from falling into. My fingers drag over the stone, guiding me by touch alone. My lungs burn from every heaving breath that tears up my throat.
She’s gone.
The thought nearly cleaves me in two. Her voice still rings in my ears—Go, Clara!So I do. Her inhuman screams chase me.
I trip over a jut of stone, hitting the ground hard. My knees slam down and split, palms scraping. The pain is immediate and sharp, but it is nothing compared to the agony already burning through me—the pain she felt.Jura.I try to get up, but I can’t. I’m stuck in place. Pinned by the sobs that I can no longer fight.
Raw grief bursts from me. My shoulders shake and ribs ache from the howling. I press a hand to my mouth, and the metallic taste ofblood blooms across my tongue. The sound of my crying is going to draw them to me, if any somehow managed to survive, and I am in no position to fight.
