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“Can a dead soul even serve as an Anchor?” Queen Hypaxia asked.
“No,” Jesiba replied, with all the finality of the Under-King’s emissary. “No, it can’t.”
Silence rippled through the room as they realized what they were witnessing. An untethered, solo Drop. Utter free fall. Bryce might as well have leapt from a cliff and hoped to land safely.
Declan drew his eyes from the video feed and scanned the graph on one of his three computers—the one charting Bryce’s Drop, courtesy of the Eleusian system. “She’s approaching her power level.” Barely a blip past zero on the scale.
Hypaxia peered over his shoulder to study the graph. “She’s not slowing, though.”
Declan squinted at the screen. “She’s gaining speed.” He shook his head. “But—but she’s classified as a low-level.” Near-negligible, if he felt like being a dick about it.
Hypaxia said quietly, “But the Gate is not.”
Sabine demanded, “What do you mean?”
Hypaxia whispered, “I don’t think it’s a memorial plaque. On the Gate.” The witch pointed to the sign mounted on the glowing quartz, the bronze stark against the incandescent stone. “The power shall always belong to those who give their lives to the city.”
Bryce dropped further into power. Past the normal, respectable levels.
Queen Hypaxia said, “The plaque is a blessing.”
Declan’s breathing was uneven as he murmured, “The power of the Gates—the power given over by every soul who has ever touched it … every soul who has handed over a drop of their magic.”
He tried and failed to calculate just how many people, over how many centuries, had touched the Gates in the city. Had handed over a drop of their power, like a coin tossed in a fountain. Made a wish on that drop of yielded power.
People of every House. Every race. Millions and millions of drops of power fueled this solo Drop.
Bryce passed level after level after level. The Autumn King’s face went pale.
Hypaxia said, “Look at the Gates.”
The quartz Gates across the city began to glow. Red, then orange, then gold, then white.
Firstlight erupted from them. Lines of it speared out in every direction.
The lights flowed down the ley lines between the Gates, connecting them along the main avenues. It formed a perfect, six-pointed star.
The lines of light began to spread. Curving around the city walls. Cutting off the demons now aiming for the lands beyond.
Light met light met light met light.
Until the city was ringed with it. Until every street was glowing.
And Bryce was still making the Drop.
It was joy and life and death and pain and song and silence.
Bryce tumbled into power, and power tumbled into her, and she didn’t care, didn’t care, didn’t care, because it was Danika falling with her, Danika laughing with her as their souls twined.
She was here, she was here, she was here—
Bryce plunged into the golden light and song at the heart of the universe.
Danika let out a howl of joy, and Bryce echoed it.
Danika was here. It was enough.
“She’s passing Ruhn’s level,” Declan breathed, not believing it. That his friend’s party-girl sister had surpassed the prince himself. Surpassed Ruhn fucking Danaan.
