They had lived underground for some time, though no one could say how long. Without night or day, dates were meaningless. The earthmen who once occupied this place kept track with computers and specialised machines, but those magicless devices were long dead.

  Whoever those earthmen were, they had built the Underground to last. There were cinemas, hospitals and artificial parks with walls painted to mimic sun and sky. None of it mattered to the people of Blackwood. Only the gardens the earthmen left behind did.

  Calling them gardens was generous. They were beds of dry soil choked with grey weeds—two of them, each the size of a king-sized bed—tucked near the old laboratories on the far side of the railway, well away from the main entrance. Blackwood had no seeds, no artificial lights or water, no power to feed their hunger. By rights the plots should have been barren. Yet they lived on, because a few among them still worked magic, and magic could bend the possible.

  Maselli was one of those few, and his faerie companion Ezra another. Knives in hand, they crouched in the nursery while everyone watched them mark each soil bed with a triangle crossed by three vertical and three horizontal strokes. It was a hopeful gesture.

  Creator magic was said to be useless. It demanded an ascension far beyond reach. If anyone could sketch a triangle on a plate and summon a loaf of bread, why would people labour? Why would war or hunger exist? Magic allowed many wonders, but more remained out of reach.

  Still, Maselli and the girl with multi-coloured eyes worked as if they had drawn such signs all their lives. The onlookers willed the impossible to stay impossible. Yet Maselli’s name had become a byword for defiance of limits. He often did what no one could explain.

  This time he took the faerie’s hand and nicked her finger with his blade. Ezra flinched but let him guide her bleeding hand over the triangles, her blood falling first on one, then the other.

  What should have come next—a flash of colour, a sudden burst of fruit? Nothing. As expected. Yet while Blackwood might have searched for disappointment, they found only a quiet satisfaction.

  The two left the garden and came back with a bucket. Once again they carved Creator symbols, smearing Ezra’s blood across it. This mark differed from the one in the soil: it was inverted, its tip pointing down, a sign some would call Satanic.

  By morning the garden bloomed in neat rows of green. The empty bucket brimmed with water. Impossible. They crowded round, lapping at it with parched tongues, greedy hands scooping and splashing before dipping again. When Hanna caught her breath she felt alive in a way she had forgotten.

  At first the potatoes were large and round, but over time they shrank. Now they were mottled with rot and streaks of dried blood. Hanna’s basket was almost empty. The preserving spell was fading. Unless a second miracle came, they would need another way to survive.

  Anna-Lisa lifted the bag and helped Hanna to her feet. The walk to the daycare centre was short and safe. When you relaxed enough, you could almost forget Franka and Gemma still lurked above. Franka no longer killed anyone—a strange turn of events no one aside Maselli understood. The only knew that Will must stay alive to keep it that way.

  They returned to the daycare. Maselli, as always, worked upstairs on something no one understood. Mari and Gracie tended two metal plates carved with crafter triangles while water boiled in saucepans. Today there would be potatoes, the same meal as the last and the one before that.

  They ate in silence. No one complained about the taste. Hanna’s portion carried a metallic tang, but she swallowed it anyway. Maselli never came down from his workshop to claim his rations. Hanna carried the food upstairs and knocked. When no answer came, she eased the door open.

  The lantern burned low, casting long, heavy shadows. Maselli slept behind his desk, breathing softly through his mouth. She stepped closer, her fingers curling as she reached to shake him awake. He never let her see his work. Broken chips and wires littered the desk alongside half-finished diagrams filled with strange symbols. If she had learnt anything of late, it was that Maselli knew far more than she did.

  He woke and ate without a word, wincing at the taste but saying nothing.

  “We can try again,” she said. “Another drop of her blood and the crop should return to normal.”

  “This was meant to last until help arrived,” he replied. “We have been here too long.”

  “Ezra is healthy. I’m sure she won’t mind giving more.”

  “We already do that. Once you’re asleep, I take her to the garden to renew the yield.”

  “How come the crop is so bad then?”

  “We didn’t see the reason at first, but it’s obvious. Ezra eats from the same garden she feeds with her blood. She isn’t gaining or losing energy, only recycling it. You can’t break the laws of conservation, not even if you’re a super-powered fae.”

  “I still don’t understand. Is she ill? We can increase her rations if that’s what you mean.”

  “Hanna, think of it this way. Each time we enchant food from the ground we create a copy of a copy, and each copy weakens. Unless Ezra gets real food from outside, she won’t help us much longer.”

  “Maselli, I don’t understand.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll be rescued soon. Don’t ask for details. It’s better if I work quietly and alone. Thank you for the food.”

  “Is it Jeromy?”

  “No, it isn’t Jeromy,” Maselli said, a sharp edge to his voice. He was tired of her questions.

  “Whatever life your brother has now, it will never be peaceful. He will wonder, for the rest of his days, what became of his family. One day he will learn that he could have saved them but didn’t. Then he will know his brother never trusted him enough. That is cruelty.”

  “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't,” he said.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “You do nothing but eat and sleep, then talk as if you know what’s happening. You know nothing. Franka stopped the hunt because he understands we are guaranteed to die. Will is the only thing stopping him from finishing the job himself. The moment he senses Jeromy, everything changes. You think I don’t know about Jeromy’s threat to Franka? I have no doubt Franka will not waste time finishing us off before my brother gets here.”

  She had seen the communicator a few times. It would be small enough to hide under her skirt. She did not know which ascension principles to use or which buttons to press. If she could convince Anna-Lisa to help, they might figure it out and contact Jeromy in time.

  “What did he say?” Anna-Lisa asked Hanna in private.

  “He mumbled something about magic principles. You know him.” Dealing with Maselli was an exhausting task. “Don’t expect Ezra to repeat the spell. What we have is what we have left.”

  “Why don’t we ask her ourselves? Ezra’s nice, she’ll—”

  Hanna put a firm hand on Anna-Lisa to calm her. They both glanced at Ezra from the corner of their eyes; she slept beside her mother. “I can’t explain, but can we not involve her?” Hanna asked. She did not want to say she no longer trusted the faerie. Maselli’s strange behaviour might be Ezra’s doing as much as his own. Besides, Hanna was about to do something Maselli would hate. Involving Ezra would put the fae in a difficult spot.

  “I understand,” said Anna-Lisa, settling. “We don’t have time.”

  “Exactly. That’s why we shouldn’t wait for Maselli to come up with a solution. He is finished. His ideas lead nowhere. I like living, Anna, and I want a say in my survival.”

  “This is about Jeromy again, isn’t it?”

  “Well, we don’t have potatoes to live on anymore.” Anna-Lisa sighed and hunched. She dug a finger into her hair and scratched; lice were rife these days. It was one of the little things that annoyed Hanna most. Darkness she could take; constant itching she could not. “You don’t have to do anything. I will steal the communicator. I’ll call Jeromy. You just have to teach me how it works. If I get caught, your hands are clean.”

  They needed one chance to catch Maselli off guard. Hanna had little hope: Maselli was absurdly cautious about everyone and everything. Getting him out of the upper room would be near impossible. During his brief absence she searched his workspace but found no communicator.

  She considered seduction — a distraction just long enough to take it while he was tired and soft. The idea fizzled as quickly as it came. She was plain and stiff; any seduction attempt would be laughable. Not everyone could be Zerah.

  Her other idea was cruel, but it might work. Maselli cared for only two people: Mari and Ezra. If she needed to distract him, she would use one of them.

  She spotted Gracie and Mari by the boiling water, ready to slice and cook the potatoes. Hanna shut away her guilt and fear. She stumbled, dropping the bag. The saucepan tipped, sending scalding water over Mari’s feet. The woman screamed.

  Everyone rushed to help. “Mari!” Hanna cried.

  The noise reached Maselli. He came pounding down the stairs and pushed through the crowd, searching for his mother.

  Hanna ran up the stairs, slipped into his room and went straight to the cluttered workbench. Beneath a stack of papers lay a small black device with two blinking lights. She snatched it up and tucked it behind her skirt, covering it with her blouse.

  With Anna-Lisa at her side they hurried from the nursery and into the tunnels, taking a path they had never tried before.

  “Here,” Anna-Lisa said, turning sharply into a low doorway. They entered a deserted building and closed the entrance behind them. The only light came from the blinking device.

  Metal scraped the floor, then a blue triangle glowed on the wall. Anna-Lisa began carving another triangle with her knife.

  “That’s enough,” said Hanna, stopping her. “We don’t want to draw attention. Help me call Jeromy and let’s finish this.”

  Anna-Lisa reached for the communicator. Hanna’s grip tightened; after a brief struggle she realised how hard she was holding it and let go. “Can you watch the window?” Anna-Lisa asked. “I might need time to figure this out.”

  “You should know,” said Hanna. “You’re smart, right? Don’t tell me I hurt Mari for nothing. Poor Mari—so kind to me, and I keep hurting her. She’ll never forgive me.”

  “Hanna, this is what we wanted.”

  “If only Maselli weren’t so stubborn.” Hanna scratched at the insects crawling through her scalp. She patted her head and moved to the window, breathing on the pane as she watched both directions of the dark hallway.

  Her heart ached. Maselli had to understand. She had to be true to herself. Yet fear gnawed at her. He had warned her what would happen if they called Jeromy: Franka would return and kill them all first. What if they reached Jeromy but failed to convince him to come? Would Franka kill them anyway? Hanna had not told Anna-Lisa any of this. Would she still help if she knew?

  “I think I’ve got it,” Anna-Lisa said at last.

  When Anna-Lisa spoke of ripper principles, her words blurred into noise. Hanna cared only about the odds of success, and they were poor.

  “Jeromy must have a phone in the first place,” Anna-Lisa said. “If he doesn’t, none of this matters. And I’m not sure a communicator and a smartphone even transmit on the same plane.”

  “Okay, what do we do?”

  “Hold the comm while I set up the environment.”

  Anna-Lisa knelt and struck her blade against the floor. Metal clanked. With renewed force she carved a symbol: a triangle with three small circles inside. Pressing both hands to it, she made it glow violet. She set the communicator in the centre, placed her hand on the button and held the speaker to her ear.

  “Jeromy,” she whispered, again and again.

  They waited for a miracle, listening to the faint hum of energy. Then it stopped. They tried again, with the same result.

  “Did you break it?” Hanna asked.

  “No. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “Well, do something.”

  “I’m trying!”

  Before they could try again, a pounding rattled the door. Lantern light spilled through as it swung open. Antonica stood in the entrance. He rarely threatened anyone, yet Hanna’s eyes fixed on the pistol at his belt—salvaged from a dead officer, brought down by Maselli himself.

  Neither girl spoke as they stepped out with their heads lowered. They handed over the device without explanation.

  Seeing Mari on a mat with her feet in iced water filled Hanna with shame. She wanted to apologise to Maselli alone, but Anna-Lisa followed when she headed towards the study.

  “You can’t face him alone,” Anna-Lisa said, taking her hand.

  Maselli and Antonica were talking when the girls entered. Maselli nodded to Antonica, who left, leaving them with their friend. He sat with his back to them, the communicator turning in the lantern light.

  “We should count ourselves lucky Franka took no offence,” he said. “We could all be dead.”

  “He’s on the surface. He can’t hear us,” Hanna said sharply. “Stop making things up to protect your brother.”

  Anna-Lisa stepped closer. “I tried reaching your brother, but it didn’t work. How did you—”

  “I have blockers everywhere,” Maselli said. “No one sends or receives messages through the ripper plane.”

  “Inverted triangles,” Anna-Lisa murmured, brow furrowed. “Is that what you mean?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll disable them once I find someone who can save us.”

  “Jeromy is the only one,” Hanna said.

  “You don’t know that,” he replied.

  “Who does he think he is?” Hanna muttered as she left the study. “I used to tie his shoelaces.”

  “Let it go,” Anna-Lisa said. “There’s nothing we can do. We don’t have the communicator, and finding those blockers is impossible.”

  Mari sat against the wall while Ezra gently rubbed her feet with a damp cloth. Head bowed, Hanna approached and knelt in greeting. Ezra paused and watched her closely. Mari’s face was blank, then softened.

  “You’re not here to burn my other foot, are you?” Mari asked. “I understand you’re not fond of my son, but why take it out on me?”

  “I’m sorry,” Hanna said, feeling the weight lift. “I acted out of desperation—Maselli is…frustrating.”

  Mari seemed lost. She turned to Ezra who explained the whole situation from scratch. About their plan to bring back Jeromy to save the day. “Wouldn’t that be great?” asked Anna-Lisa. “Your son gets to save the village.”

  “No,” said Mari, winded. She pushed herself to sit straight against the wall.

  “No?” said Hanna.

  “I don’t want Jeromy to return," Mari said, to the shock of all three girls.

  “Mari, I don’t think you understand,” said Hanna.

  “I do,” said Mari. “My heart won't take it, seeing Jeromy against that monster. I don’t want him near this place.”

  “But he's going to be a Gaverian," Anna-Lisa said.

  “I never asked for that,” said Mari. “He never asked for that either. And even if I wished he'd come home, I don’t wish him to come home as a soldier.”

  “Mari…” Ezra said, unable to say what they were thinking. How selfish could one woman be? Hanna had never truly liked Mari. She was not one of them and proved to be an outsider by protecting her own from the rest of the village.

  “He never asked for power, but we never asked to become Franka’s prey either,” said Hanna. “We each have our own.”

  “Leave her be, Hanna.” Her father’s grating voice could never go unnoticed. “Mari’s right. Jerry is just a boy. It’s not fair what has happened to us but leaving it on Jeromy to save us is just as unfair.”

  "Besides, he is far too scrawny," said Rita. She crawled into the faint firelight. “Those skinny limbs have no business fighting.”

  “What’s the point of this argument?” asked Antonica. “We haven’t seen a Gaverian since the last one died. What makes you think they would send a student to Blackwood? Do you think Jeromy would ask nicely and they’d let him come? Maselli is contacting someone capable."

  Gracie laughed softly at herself. “I can’t imagine it either,” she said. “Mari, your boy is the sweetest child I’ve ever met. He can’t hurt a fly.”

  “He’ll prove you wrong,” Ezra said. “Jerry is stronger than you think. You’ll see.”

  Mari slipped her foot out of the water and stretched her neck, searching for the entrance. “Sera is not back yet,” she said.

  “Where did she go?” Anna-Lisa asked.

  “We used up the water we had for Mari’s foot,” said Ezra. "Sera went to get more."

  “When did she leave?” asked Hanna.

  “Right about the time you went upstairs,” said Mari.

  “Was she alone?” asked Hanna. They had a policy against that.

  “No, the mousy boy went with her,” said Ezra. “Um, sorry… Sam.”

  “Samellie?” said Hanna, to which Ezra nodded. A lump lodged in Hanna’s throat. She did not know she was this pessimistic. One concern had her imagining the worst. Maselli warned her not to contact Jeromy. No, this can’t be Franka.

  “It’s not Franka,” Anna-Lisa whispered. “Come on, let's find them.”

  “Wait,” said Antonica, caution in his tone. “I’ll go with you.”

  They followed each other as closely as possible. The halls had never been darker. Hanna thought she was brave. This very moment proved otherwise. Once they arrived at the garden, they knew something was wrong. A lantern lay on its side, casting a dim ray onto the ground. They halted in place, wondering who would take the lead. “Maybe we should turn back,” suggested Hanna. Antonica pressed on. He did not invite them to follow.

  Getting down on one knee, Antonica shone the lantern on the ground at what Hanna could only describe as the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Vapour oozed upward, rising from the frosted body on the ground. They knew who it was supposed to be. Sera’s skin was tight against her bones, cracked and blue, and her veins glowed. Her lips were chapped as frost oozed out of her porcelain mouth. The hems of her skirt were as stiff as the body that wore them.

  The garden looked unchanged and the bucket with magic water full. No signs of a struggle. She was dead for no reason they could see. Not far away they found Samellie. Stiff, cold, his face frozen. He was hunched over on the ground. Hanna broke apart. She sank beside him and laid a hand on his head. Antonica hauled her to her feet. Together they watched the blue veins glow in the dark.

  Not helping, she watched Antonica and Anna-Lisa drag the bodies into shadow, out of sight. “We don’t speak of this to anyone,” he said.

  It was a sensible rule. Panic only made things worse. Still, Sera and Samellie’s absence could not be hidden. The village gathered in the nursery, waiting for the search party to report. The children were quiet and the mothers folded their arms as if they already knew something terrible had happened.

  “It’s sad to say, but you all deserve to know,” Antonica told them. “The garden has been robbed. Every potato for the week—gone.” The Blackens reacted with a mix of grief and disbelief. It was one thing to lie, another to blame the dead. Antonica did not flinch from the truth he was about to give. “We could not find Samellie or Sera. We are not calling them thieves. You can come to your own conclusions.”

  “What happened?” Maselli asked later, alone with Hanna in his study. She fell to pieces again as she described the thing she had seen. Maselli pulled her into his arms and let her rest her head on his shoulder.

  “Franka would never have done that if I hadn’t tried to contact Jeromy,” she sobbed.

  “I know. Are you sorry?” he asked gently.

  It felt like an age since she had felt this close to him. She brushed her hand behind his neck and leaned in until their lips met. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of his desk and saw what she wanted most, stealing it as they kissed. Maselli slumped back into his chair; she promised to return.

  Anna-Lisa stood at the foot of the stairs. “I did something terrible. It’s your turn now. I don’t care about blockers. Find a way around them. Let’s go.”

  Her friend followed. They left without a lantern and slipped unseen into the tunnels. Anna-Lisa muttered techniques Hanna did her best to ignore; if their effort had been wasted, she would be furious.

  “I think I can bypass the blockers,” Anna-Lisa said. “It will take time and we’ll have to move a lot.”

  “Maselli said they’re inverted triangles,” Hanna said. “That means they’re spells—and every spell has a range. There must be pockets in the tunnels where the blockers fail.”

  Hanna accepted the reasoning and let Anna-Lisa lead. They tried the library first. Nothing. They moved through kitchens, a dormitory, even an empty apartment.

  “Let’s try the locker room,” said Hanna. “Maybe we haven’t drifted far enough.”

  “We might get lost without lanterns,” Anna-Lisa said. “I have to admit I was wrong about the blockers. Maselli planned better than I thought.”

  “No. We’re doing this. We can’t give up.”

  “Hanna, there’s nothing else to do.”

  “Give it to me.” She snatched the communicator and pressed the side button. Perhaps Anna-Lisa was not as capable as she’d believed. “Hello, Jerry. Can you hear me?”

  “That won’t work,” Anna-Lisa snorted. “You need—”

  “Well, if you knew what to do, you’d have done it.”

  Anna-Lisa watched in silence while Hanna called again and again. No answer. Only the steady hum.

  “What about Ezra?” Hanna whispered. “Should we involve her now?”

  “She seemed to be on our side.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Hanna. “But would she betray Maselli?”

  Before Anna-Lisa could reply, a scream split the dark—a raw, endless shriek that rose and faded. Despite the blackness they saw sweat shine on each other’s faces. No one told them to hold on, yet they clung together and waited, hearts hammering. What was it?

  A shout followed, sharp with anger. They ought to return to the nursery, yet neither could move. Feet rooted, they closed their eyes and prayed. Trouble strips you bare; no matter how dirty you are, you turn to God. They did not deserve to die.

  “Hanna, let’s go,” her friend urged. Hanna longed to apologise for her sharp words, though it was hardly the moment. She had been rude—and she had lied about the danger of contacting Jeromy.

  The next scream came from the lavatory. A crowd huddled round a cubicle. Searching for her mother, Hanna found her buried in Antonica’s chest while he patted her back, his own eyes locked on what Hanna knew was a corpse.

  There is a question God’s children ask that has no answer: why do good people suffer? Gracie had harmed no one. She loved the children, offered herself as a hostage when the Bannermen came, and met danger with quiet courage. Now she lay on the bathroom floor, frozen on her side. Hollow eyes stared past the watchers as blue veins glimmered through her skin. Someone had chosen cruelty, killing her in shameful silence.

  But that someone is you. You’re cruel. You’re careless. She would be alive if you had heeded the warning.

  Her right hand trembled. She steadied it with her other hand as they left Gracie on the bathroom floor and clustered around Zerah. From now on they would hold hands while they used the lavatory — a childish habit returned in a house that no longer permitted comfort.

  Conrad grew loquacious when afraid, and tonight was no different. He spoke at length to Rita as if they were the only two left in the room, then called for Hanna. “You don’t go out there alone, do you hear me?” he demanded.

  “Pa—”

  “He’s right,” Antonica said. “It isn’t safe. Franka has made a move. We knew this day might come. We’ll ask Maselli what the demon wants. If anyone needs escorting, tell me.”

  “Frozen?” Conrad asked. “That makes no sense. Is the demon evolving?”

  “We can’t say,” Antonica replied.

  “How long has this been going on?” Mari asked. “Sera and Samellie — they’re dead, aren’t they?”

  Antonica swallowed. The Blackens found the news unbearable. They pressed forward until the room was crowded and Antonica had to order them back. He climbed to the middle of the stairs and called, “Calm down. Maselli is handling it. He knows what to do and will tell us.”

  They yelled at him, furious he had kept secrets. Hanna stepped back, careful not to be drawn into the anger. She still had Maselli’s device and had no intention of giving it up.

  “Do you think it’s him?” Zerah whispered in Hanna’s ear. “Do you?”

  “Who?” Hanna asked. “What are you talking about?”

  Zerah nodded toward the upper room. “Maselli might be behind this.”

  “Why would you say that?” Hanna snapped, heat building. “Everyone knows it’s Franka.”

  “Maybe. But Maselli has the motive and means,” Zerah said. “Think about it.”

  “What motive?”

  “Our food’s running out. He could be cutting the mouths he feeds.”

  “You’re a witch,” Hanna muttered.

  “All that time following him and you still don’t know how he thinks.”

  Zerah’s smugness made her loathsome. Hanna turned away and found Anna-Lisa. “I don’t think Franka did this,” Anna-Lisa whispered. “Your father is right. It feels wrong. Franka may be a monster, but he keeps his promises. And the frost — he doesn’t kill like that.” She waited for Hanna’s reply; Hanna had none.

  Antonica eased the upper-room door and slipped inside. Everyone else waited below, raw with emotion. “It’s Antonica,” Hanna accused.

  “He lacks the skill for something like this,” Anna-Lisa said. “I only know two people who could do such harm.”

  “Don’t,” Hanna snapped. “Don’t even think it. This is exactly what Franka wants — division.”

  “Franka doesn’t kill this way,” Anna-Lisa insisted.

  “He has a girlfriend who turns into a hound. He gave soldiers black veins. We don’t know his limits.”

  “But what would Franka gain? He wouldn’t harm us without cause, not while Will is around.”

  The passing time was anything but comfortable. Maselli never asked Hanna about the device. It did not seem missing. She slept and woke frozen, only to break free from that nightmare and awaken again. For the first time in a long while, they did not visit the garden for food or water. As the days wore on, many lost their anger and fear, slipping into a dull repose. Fear of death was killing them.

  Hanna’s will to live proved stronger than most. If she died out there, so be it. With her parents too weak to scold her, she ventured out of the nursery. Tracing her hands along the walls, she separated herself from the rest. Anna-Lisa followed.

  They reached the garden and found it lush. Leaves spread wide and dark green. Water from their magic bucket flooded the floor. No one had drunk from it for at least three days.

  Coughing dust, Hanna hurried to the bucket and knelt. She dipped her hand in and bowed her head. Before she could sip, Anna-Lisa called her name.

  “Give me the communicator,” she demanded. An odd request. Why stop her from drinking first? Hanna pulled the device from behind her blouse and handed it over.

  Without blinking, Anna-Lisa said, “I want to try again.”

  “No,” Hanna said. “Someone would die if we do.”

  “We have to,” Anna-Lisa breathed. “Everyone is in the nursery. This would be the first time we have witnesses to what happens when someone freezes.”

  “Anna.”

  “Listen. Something strange is happening.”

  “You’re not as smart as you think.”

  Anna-Lisa flinched. She clutched the communicator to her chest, unable to look away from Hanna’s face. “You killed three people and I helped you.”

  “What is one more?” Hanna asked. “Is that what you mean? We may have blown every chance we had of survival because I thought I could do it better. Do you know how horrible I feel right now?”

  “Please let me try. I promise I’ll tell you what’s going on after I’m done.”

  “Can I drink now?”

  “No. Don’t go near the bucket.”

  “You’d better know what you’re doing.”

  Anna-Lisa dipped her finger into the running pool beneath their feet. She stepped carefully onto dry ground and traced a symbol with the wet finger. Eyes closed, she placed the communicator in the centre and murmured a prayer to Grefus, god of space.

  He answered.

  The triangle flashed a soft glow and so did the water spiling from the bucket. It was brief, easy to miss, but unmistakable. The creator’s symbol on the bucket glowed an ominous red.

  “Blockers,” said Anna-Lisa. “Hanna, did you understand?”

  The water was cursed. Perhaps the food from the garden too. Maselli had always claimed a deeper understanding of ascension. He’d poisoned them all and could trigger a kill switch whenever he wished.

  “What did I just see?” A voice rose from the darkness. A man with a gun stepped forward—Antonica, tilting his head as he approached the two girls.

  “You don’t know?” Anna-Lisa asked.

  “Know what?”

  Hanna looked well at Antonica. He truly did not know. “Maselli is the monster,” she said. “Not Franka.” Against expectations, Antonica did not explode with burning rage. His anger was cold. He looked at his belt and pulled out the pistol, examining the symbol carved on its nozzle.

  “He’s played God for long enough,” he said, reserved in his words. You could almost hint at their sorrow. “I hoped things would end differently for us, and that we might see the sun again.” He turned around and walked back into the dark, his feet splattering in the puddles.

  Once you have set a path, you must follow it to the end. Hanna took the communicator and pressed it into Anna-Lisa’s palm. “Figure it out,” she said, her voice weak. Anna-Lisa dipped her finger into the water again. She drew a triangle, placing the device within it. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Antonica,” and the water glowed, and there was a grunt, and there was a thud. Antonica choked, his bones cracking as the frost crunched him. His veins glowed.

  Hanna and Anna walked side by side, refusing to look at the body at their feet. They returned to the nursery and no one knew where they had been. Ezra lifted her head from Mari’s lap once she saw the two walking past. The faerie knew everything.

  They were alone with Maselli in his study. He was seated on the floor, in the middle of a system of triangles, glowing in different shades of violet and purple. Hanna and Anna-Lisa waited near the door until he opened up his hand. “Give it to me,” he said.

  Anna-Lisa shoved the communicator at Hanna, who stepped closer to the ritual space. Power pushed against her skin. The air around them shimmered with warmth. It reminded her of the first time she walked through a portal. Was that what Maselli had made? A portal to leave Blackwood? Her old friend had become a wizard.

  She placed the device in his hand and asked, “Who are you calling?”