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The only specters she’d encountered this far gone were the ones the soul peddler in the Midtown district of Reave kept. The ghostsoil that consumed their bodies suppressed any energy their souls might hold. Some bore runes that granted grafted abilities, but the cost was fatal. As the soul’s energy was drained to power the magic, it withered away entirely, leaving the body to collapse into grotesque deformities as the invasive material overtook it, destroying both the runes and the body.

A shiver climbed up her spine, warning her she wasn’t alone.

Lily slowly lifted her gaze to the appearance of the ethae. It knelt low to inspect the aura, nuzzling the top of Lily’s hand, as soft as a breeze pushing smoke against her skin. The delicate nature of the interaction didn’t stop her heartbeat from clawing up her throat, no longer in fear, but for an innate need for its approval.

Why did you bring me here? Was it for Luka?

The ethae stilled, solid as granite. A growl festered in its chest that Lily feared was directed toward her. It twisted around in time with an aggressive bark tearing from its throat and sprinted in the direction Lily was heading, vanishing in the dark.

She needed to make this quick. She kept on, coming to rest under a large window printed with an image of cogs and a pair of thin glasses. Around the corner was a locked bulkhead. Quietly, she pulled out the key Maude gave her and slid inside.

Her senses were met with the dry air of the basement. At the bottom of the stairs, she passed by shelves lined in the middle of the room and along the walls, stacked with sheets of metals, glass jars, wires, and tools. A dim light bled through the floorboards above. Her chest tightened at the familiarity of being under Caiven’s armory, and she hurried her pace, keeping her focus on the walls behind the shelves as her eyes adjusted.

There should be a cutout in the wall, hidden by a cloth—

There.

As quietly as she could, Lily dragged the shelf out of the way, rattling a few of the objects, but nothing burst in after her. The stash of blasting stones was right where Maude said they would be—in a shallow indent carved out of the wall.

Lily tore off the lid of a barrel and dove her hands into the lukewarm water, stuffing her jacket pockets to the brim.

Blasting stones were mined in the southern ocean, close to Zaitrerin. Lily assumed these came from Aeston, the smooth rocks a dark shade of orange and not the bright red she’d seen in a Zaitrerin armory. So long as they ignited the same, the blast size shouldn’t matter. The specter was still partly organic, and ghostsoil was susceptible to heat, so either way, it should do some kind of damage.

Lily quickly shot out of the basement. As she came up the stairs, the sound of firing plasma echoed in the alley.

Pulling her hood over her head to hide the sheen of her hair, she peered around the corner.

At the end of the street was the specter. In its impenetrable grip was one of Maude’s men, head lolled and eyes empty. Cupped in the hands of one of the Swarm was his orange soul.

The ethae stood beyond. Enveloped in a purple haze of angry, cold auras, it watched her.

There was so much death. Needless, painful death.

For a moment, it was all she could see.

Her chest tightened, breath catching as understanding slammed into her like a light in the dark—blinding and undeniable.

If Lily was meant to summon death where none existed, then she was meant to stand against it where it overflowed.

That was why it brought her here. The ethae wanted her to put an end to all this suffering—to stop these men and the specter—a monster that should have died long ago. A being that was also suffering.

Suffering like a dying fish pierced by a spear. Or Gwyneth bleeding out from a gunshot wound.

This was her purpose.

Warm venom pooled against her skin.

This was what it meant to be the Wraith.

"Act, Evelian," Amalia’s voice snarled in her ear. "For your people, and theirs."

Lily purged the borrowed aura through the air, gripping it until crystals formed under her fist. They flew at the group, ricocheting off the specter’s ghosted limbs and sinking into the flesh visible on its lower back. The soul was dropped, disappearing to its unseen realm. Lily took hold of the aura of the soldier and thrust it in the specter’s direction. It let loose a wail at the attack.

Plasma pierced through the air around her. Lily flew behind an abandoned carriage. The sounds of shattering glass and wood accompanied the specter’s cries, but like a golden angel sent straight from Erebria, the loud bangs of lead bullets weaved through the chaos.

The specter’s heavy footsteps sounded in her direction.

Rolling across the street, Lily narrowly dodged it for a second time as it crashed into the carriage, launching it farther up the street. She huddled in an alcove, searching above her.