More beasts tumbled down from the roof, shrieking stupidly for blood. With a furious sharp cry, Eliana spun to face the nearest one, sent it flying. It crashed through the stone railing and tumbled into the darkness.

Rielle could have watched Eliana for hours. Arcs of light soared through the air, smashed into the angels’ armor, sent them clattering to the ground. But of course they rose again and again, and they would forever until they claimed victory.

Then Rielle felt the air tighten with malice, the drawn breath before a scream. Her stomach dropped for miles.

The angels had deployed their minds at last, their fiercest weapons. The brute force of their thoughts snapped through the air, seeking targets. They would seize these fighting women one by one and throw them to their deaths, or make them jump off the edge of the terrace themselves, command them to turn on each other until nothing was left but ruin. They would save Eliana for last and dismantle her piece by piece. Rielle drew a breath, dizzy with fear.

But then something dove out of the sky. Nearly shadows, nearly bodies, but neither of these things and both of them at once. It was as when Rielle had opened the Gate—flashes of beauty, supple skin that gleamed as if freshly emerged from the sea, brief flashes of armor and cloaks, gowns and coats riotous with color. Streaming pale hair, long dark curls fluttering with ribbons. They were angels, each of their minds carrying echoes of what they had once been. And with no bodies to contain them, their memories spilled freely.

Watching them descend, Rielle struggled to rise, shout a warning. But these angels, bodiless and roaring, dove to fight alongside Eliana, shielded Sloane and Kamayin. They wove through the attacking angels, wielded echoes of swords they had not held in an age. One of them had eyes black as river stones, white hair like strands of sea foam, shining platinum armor. She dove in front of Eliana, deflecting attacks of mind and claw. Her war cry struck Rielle’s bones.

The armored angels, solid in the bodies Rielle had made for them, cursed the new arrivals. Rielle sensed the specific shape of their fury: these traitors would fight not just for humans, but for this girl who had come from the future to destroy the greatest among them—Kalmaroth, reborn, their salvation and their champion.

A piece of Corien sat in each of the angels’ minds, ready in case he should need to command them, and the deeper he sank into Rielle’s thoughts, the more clearly she could sense their incandescent rage. She choked on it, her throat closing. Foul words shot from their mouths in Lissar, in Qaharis. Traitors! Filth!

Mere seconds had passed since the moment Rielle had risen with Eliana at her side. She lifted her head against a great weight—the pressure of Corien, insistent and full of rage, each of his thoughts a vise.

He stood over her, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was quiet, and yet her ears bled from it.

“After everything we’ve shared,” he said, “after everything we’ve accomplished, you would turn from me?” He glanced beyond her. His face settled into harsh lines of anger. “You would let this girl, this liar, come between us?”

Rielle tried to stand, but Corien’s mind shoved deeper, pinning her. She heard a scream and twisted on the stone, bleary-eyed, to see Eliana fall to her knees. Her castings shot careening power that blazed a charred path across the terrace. She clutched her head and cried out, and when she tried to rise, something unseen struck her. Her head snapped around, and she fell hard to the ground.

Fury rose inside Rielle on a wave of white light. The pain in her head threatened to split open her skull, but she pushed past it and stood, found Corien, cut the air with her arm, and blasted him clear across the terrace.

She whirled, her heart in her throat. Eliana was up and fighting again, and across the field of fire between them, their eyes locked, and Rielle had never felt such love in her life.

Corien was up in moments. She heard him rise and stared him down as he came limping back for her. Blood trickled down his temple; his hair was wet with it. She felt a pang of remorse, but she would throw him again if she had to.

“You will not touch her,” she told him evenly.

“She’s a liar,” he spat. “You would let her come between us? This girl who came out of the night spinning stories designed to hurt me?”

Blackness washed over Rielle, dragging claws of pain in its wake, and when it cleared from her eyes, she found the sky, encircled in flames. She was on the terrace floor, screaming, and each time she twisted to rise, to reach for her power, the floor cracked beneath her. Spirals of light flew from her fingers, and great knots of fire rained down from the sky.

“Rielle, listen to the sound of my voice! Don’t be afraid! I’m right here!”

But she could not allow Audric near her. She would kill him, or Corien would. She shoved hard in the direction of his voice and hoped she had sent him far enough away.

Corien crouched before her, watching as she fought for breath. Faintly, she heard Audric, still calling for her. Stay with me, Rielle! Fight him!

She held her head, fought to look blearily up at Corien. The sight of him was horrible. His face was monstrous, pale as bone, his eyes a brilliant white that stabbed her eyes like needles. Somehow he had grown wings. Enormous and black, they were made of a thousand birds that spat raucous harsh cries.

Rielle fought to look for Eliana. There she was, being swarmed by dozens of braying beasts. With beaks and talons, they tore her to shreds. Flames shot up Miren’s body. In seconds, she was ashes. Eliana’s companion, the boy, burst open, and from the place where his head had been poured shining waves of black beetles.

Rielle shut her eyes, but still she saw them die, and still she saw the beetles merge to become a reflection of herself. And she was the fire too, and she was each of the beasts ripping open her daughter’s body, and she was every bird teeming on Corien’s back.

“That is what you are,” Corien said quietly, unblinking. “This is the darkness that lives inside you. See it, Rielle. Remember it. Love it, as I do.”

At last, Rielle found her voice. She could not look at him. He would not allow it. He pressed her skull against the floor.

“I remember everything,” she rasped, her tears hot against the rough stone. “I remember how you drugged my thoughts, kept me stupid for weeks. I remember long months of you coming to me in dreams. I told you I wanted to sleep, and you kept me awake anyway, whispering to me of resurrection.”

“You love our great work,” he said. “It brings you pleasure you have never felt before, joy you could never have found with them. You know this, Rielle.”

She blinked hard against the bursts of pain pounding her skull. She tried to reach for her power, but her thoughts were too scattered. It was like clutching at water with only her hands.

“Let me rise,” she choked out.

“No. Not until I know you have come to your senses.”