Chapter Twelve: Robbing Banks, Dodging Squids

  We make it maybe ten steps before the town collectively decides to start screaming, which feels unfair, because I literally just finished thinking, wow, today is going surprisingly well. The sound starts distant, almost ignorable, like someone dropped something heavy a few streets over. Then it multiplies, voices layering over voices, rising in pitch and urgency until the air itself feels like it's vibrating with panic.

  Mira's hand is already on her sword like she's been personally insulted by the concept of peace. Around us, the marketplace transforms. A woman drops her basket. A merchant abandons his stall mid-transaction, runemarks scattering. People around us go from "shopping" to "fleeing for their lives" in the span of a heartbeat, and suddenly we're standing in a current of bodies all moving in the opposite direction.

  "We're going," Mira says, and it's not a question. Her grip on my wrist is iron.

  "Good," Lyra says, turning away from the screaming. "If we leave now we should be able to get back to the academy before..."

  "No," Mira interrupts, "we're going to help."

  "Excuse me?" I say, my mouth dropping as more screaming echoes from down the street, closer now, accompanied by a sound like wood splintering. "Going where?" I manage, "toward the screaming!?"

  "Someone needs to help," Mira says, like that settles it.

  "The guards!" Kaela squeaks, stepping towards Mira and grabbing her arm. "Shouldn't we find the knights? Let them handle it? That's literally their job!"

  "Do you mean the knights who just took our room? Those knights!?" Mira snaps back.

  "We're students. We're not equipped for..." Lyra says, another scream cutting through the air, and this time I feel it in my chest, the raw terror in that sound. "Whatever that is."

  "Then we figure it out," Mira says, starting to walk towards the screaming.

  "Wait, Mira, hold on. You told me, back at the academy, you said it was your job to keep me out of trouble. Remember? That whole speech about watching me?"

  Mira stops walking. The screaming continues behind her, punctuated now by crashes, impacts that I can feel through my boots. "You're right," she says after a moment.

  "Perfect," I say, letting out a sigh of relief as I turn to face Lyra. "Let's get..."

  I'm interrupted by Mira. "I'll just have to keep you with me then, to make sure."

  Before I can respond, her hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. Her grip is solid and absolutely non-negotiable.

  "Mira, what are you..." I start to protest, but she's already pulling me forward, my boots skidding slightly on the packed earth as I stumble after her. "This is not what I meant! This is the opposite of what I meant! Mira!"

  I'm caught between the absurdity of the situation and the genuine fear of whatever she is literally dragging me towards.

  Buildings blur past, shops with their shutters slamming closed, the sound like gunshots in the chaos. People running in the opposite direction, their faces pale and eyes wide, some crying, some silent with shock. A man stumbles past us, blood running from a cut on his temple. Something crashes in the distance, louder than before. The impact reverberates through the ground beneath my feet, a tremor that travels up through my boots and into my bones, and I feel my teeth click together.

  The street opens into a wide square, and that's when I see it.

  The monster.

  "Oh," I say, very quietly. My voice sounds strange, distant. "Oh, that's not good."

  It takes me a moment to process what I'm looking at. A mass of slick, dark flesh, so dark it's almost black, or maybe a blue so deep it's swallowed its own color, I can't tell. The surface gleams wetly in the sunlight, reflecting nothing, absorbing everything. Tentacles thick as tree trunks slam into stone and wood, each one lined with what look like suckers, but they're too angular, too sharp, like they're designed to grip and tear instead of simply hold.

  Wait.

  "Is that..." I squint at it, my brain scrambling through memories, trying to match this nightmare to something familiar. "Someone once told me about squids. Ocean creatures with tentacles and... is that a squid?"

  Because it matches the description I was given, sort of. The general shape, the tentacles, the way it moves with that fluid, boneless grace.

  "It's a Monster," Lyra says, voice tight. "It's not supposed to be here."

  "Well, someone should tell it that."

  My eyes catch on something at the center of the mass, a darker spot, a void in all that writhing flesh. The mouth. It's a perfect circle, like a drain, and as the creature shifts I see the edges of what might be teeth, rows of them, spiraling inward, each one catching the light like polished metal.

  One of its tentacles sweeps across the square. It wraps around a barrel and lifts it, almost delicately, then slams the whole thing into that circular maw. The grinding intensifies, a sound like metal on metal, like machinery chewing through something it wasn't designed to handle. Wood splinters. The barrel disappears into the rows of blades, crushed and consumed in seconds.

  Then the tentacle moves on. It passes over a pile of broken crates, ignoring them entirely. Reaches instead for a shattered window frame, and I see a faint rune carved into the wood, still glowing weakly. The tentacle scoops it up and feeds it to the mouth.

  My stomach turns.

  Another tentacle smashes through a lamp post. The creature pauses, wraps around it, lifts. There's runes carved into a glowing sphere at the top, humming with stored mana. It crushes the sphere, shoving the shards into its mouth like the burnt remains of an overcooked meatball.

  The creature moves, dragging itself forward, tentacles questing and searching. A merchant's cart gets overturned, trinkets spilling across the cobblestones, little things with glowing runes carved into them. The tentacles converge on them like fingers picking through coins.

  "It's going after mana," I say, the realization hitting.

  Lyra's eyes widen. "The bank."

  We all turn. At the far end of the square sits a sturdy stone building with carved pillars and an official-looking crest above the door. The monster is dragging itself toward it, tentacles smashing through carts and stalls, leaving destruction in its wake.

  "Of course it's a bank," I mutter. "Of course the giant squid monster is trying to rob the bank."

  Mira's already moving. Her hand goes to her sword, and I hear the whisper of steel as she draws it.

  Kaela grabs her arm. "Mira, wait... we should... there has to be..."

  "There's no one else," Mira says, shaking her off. "Look around. Where are the guards? Where are the knights?"

  She's right. The square is chaotic, people running, screaming, and scrambling for cover, but there's no gleaming armor, no official reinforcements, no heroic arrival with banners and dramatic timing. Just townsfolk. And us.

  "We're students!" Lyra says, and her voice cracks slightly on the word.

  "We have enough," Mira says. Behind her, a tentacle crashes through a storefront, sending glass exploding across the cobblestones. The sound makes us all flinch. Dust billows out, catching the light.

  She points at Lyra. "You have scrolls."

  Lyra's jaw clenches. Her hand moves to her bag, fingers hovering over the flap. A woman sprints past us, clutching a child to her chest, and Lyra has to step aside to avoid being knocked over. "I'll need offerings," she says, raising her voice over the screaming.

  "Then find some," Mira snaps, cutting her off. Another crash. Closer this time. The ground shudders beneath us.

  Kaela looks at the monster then back at Mira. Her tail lashes once, sharp and agitated. "This is dumb," she whispers. "Mira, we can't..."

  "Kaela, please." Mira says, gripping her sword harder. Her knuckles are white.

  A barrel explodes somewhere to our left, spraying a thick liquid across the square. Finally, Kaela grabs Lyra's arm. I see a look of fear flash across Kaela's face, pure terror from the giant monster squid tearing up the square in front of us. "I trust you..." Kaela says. "Please don't get yourself hurt."

  Lyra and Kaela exchange a glance, and I can see the doubt written plainly across both their faces. Lyra's hand hovers over her bag, fingers trembling slightly. Kaela's tail twitches with barely-contained anxiety. For a moment, neither of them moves.

  A man stumbles between us, bleeding from a gash on his forehead, and I lose sight of them for a moment. When the crowd shifts again, I catch one more glimpse, Kaela looking back over her shoulder, her expression caught somewhere between fear and determination. Then they're gone, swallowed by the panicked mass of bodies fleeing in every direction.

  And suddenly it's just Mira and myself.

  The square feels bigger now. Emptier. The monster's shadow falls across us, and the temperature drops like we've stepped into shade.

  Mira doesn't look at me. Her eyes are locked on the monster.

  "So, uh, what's the plan here?" I say, feeling a shiver run down my spine as I see the monster crush a wooden cart holding a varied assortment of brightly colored fruit. The fruit explodes, juice spraying, and for a horrible second it looks like blood.

  "Keep it away from the bank until Lyra gets back," Mira says.

  "That's not a plan. That's a goal. Plans have steps."

  Mira starts to move, dragging me with her. My boots scrape against cobblestones.

  We pass a weapon stall, half-collapsed, the merchant long gone. Swords hang from hooks, knives scattered across the table like spilled silver. Mira's gaze flicks over it once, and then her hand darts out. A sword lands in my hands.

  It's heavier than the practice sword I held earlier. The leather-wrapped hilt is worn smooth from someone else. It smells like oil and metal.

  "Mira..."

  "Hold it," she says, not looking at me. "If it gets past me, you swing. Pointy end toward the monster."

  The ground shudders beneath my feet, a tremor that travels up through my legs and settles somewhere in my chest. My hands are sweating. I adjust my grip on the sword, and the leather feels slippery.

  The monster spots us and lashes out. Mira lets go of my arm and swings. Her sword flashes, biting into slick monster squid flesh. Dark fluid sprays, spattering across the stones. The monster makes a sound like a wet engine revving, deep and resonant, and I feel it in my ribcage. The monster turns its head to look at us, its eyes narrowing on our small frames.

  "Oh fuck," I say, taking a step back away from Mira... who is insistently holding her ground against the giant squid monster.

  "Mira run its...!" I start to say, interrupted as a tentacle slams into Mira, sending her flying backward like she weighs nothing. She hits the ground hard, skidding across stone. Her sword clatters away, the sound sharp and final. She rolls once, comes up on one knee, breathing sharp through clenched teeth.

  Blood runs from her lip. She wipes it with the back of her hand, leaving a red smear across her cheek. She presses a hand briefly to her ribs, wincing.

  Mira grabs her sword and lunges again. The monster doesn't care. Not really, we're clearly just annoyances for it. It's still moving toward the bank, tentacles crushing and pulling, mouth opening and closing like it's hungry for something specific.

  "Mira stop! We need a better plan," I shout, trying to get her attention over the ambient monster noise that filled the square.

  "Speak then!" Mira says, panting hard and wiping the sweat from her face.

  "We give it what it wants! Sort of," I say, gripping my sword hard enough to turn my knuckles white. I take my cloak off, leaving the mess of fabric laying in a pile next to my feet.

  Mira swears as a tentacle nearly catches her ankle. She leaps back, boots skidding, then slices at it again. Dark fluid sprays. "Explain. Quickly."

  "If it wants mana, we give it mana. We take the runemarks from the bank and run. It'll follow us out of town."

  Mira stares at me for half a second like she's trying to decide if I'm brilliant or insane. "That's stealing."

  "The town will be destroyed if we don't do something!" The words come out harsher than I meant, but the square is chaotic and the monster is nearly at the bank doors and the screaming keeps rising and falling like the town is drowning. "I'm not sure what the monster wants with mana, but giving anything that much mana can't be good." I say, looking towards the bank.

  Mira's gaze flicks to the empty street where Kaela and Lyra disappeared. No guards. Still none. Just us. Her jaw works, teeth grinding.

  "Fine," she grits out. "Go. Now. Get as many marks as you can carry."

  My eyes widen. "Me?"

  "You're faster than me right now," Mira says, and there's blood on her teeth when she speaks. "And I'm the one who can actually fight."

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  "That's..." I glance at the monster. Another tentacle slams down, close enough that I feel the wind of it. "That's the worst job assignment system I've ever heard of."

  "Go!" Mira shouts.

  I run. "A small amount of armed robbery never hurt anyone... right?" I said under my breath, trying to rationalize running into a bank with a sword.

  I barrel through the doorway.

  The inside is bright, polished stone, carved wood, everything designed to look stable and permanent and trustworthy, like the building itself is wearing a confident smile. Counters gleam. Iron cages hold stacks of coins. Shelves of lockboxes line the walls like teeth.

  And the moment I step in, every face turns toward me.

  It’s not subtle. I’m breathing like I just sprinted across a continent. Dark monster blood is splattered across my sleeves and chest, drying in glittery streaks that make me look like I lost a fight with a craft store. My hair is stuck to my forehead. My eyes are probably too wide. My expression is definitely the kind that gets you tackled by security. And then I remember, to them, I’m not a girl covered in blood. I’m a thing that walked in from the wrong side of the world.

  A teller makes a sound, half gasp, half prayer, and flings a ledger at me like paperwork can ward off death.

  I duck on instinct. The book slams into the wall behind me with a hard thud.

  “Monster!” she shrieks. “It’s. . . it’s here!”

  “I’m not. . .” I start, and then my brain decides now is a bad time for nuance. “Give me all your money!”

  Silence.

  Every person freezes in the exact posture of prey deciding whether to play dead.

  The teller blinks at me. “Excuse me?”

  “Not… for me!” I say quickly, hands up, palms open, trying to look like a person and not an impending felony. “For a giant squid nightmare currently chewing its way through your town square!”

  A second employee, older, with trembling hands, takes a careful step back like sudden movement might trigger my robbery instincts. “Are you… are you robbing us?”

  “Yes,” I say, because lying feels like too much effort and also I’m pretty sure my face is already confessing. “But for a good cause.”

  “What!?” the teller splutters. “There’s no such thing as a good robbery!”

  “Sure there is!” I snap, and immediately regret how unhinged that sounded. I inhale, force my voice down, force myself to look at them like they’re people and not obstacles between me and the vault. “Look. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I will not hurt anyone. I’m trying to stop the monster outside from eating your vault. If I don’t take the runemarks, the monster will. And I promise you I am significantly more likely to return them than the squid thing.”

  The teller’s mouth opens, closes. “The… squid thing?”

  “Trust me,” I say. “It’s a whole situation.”

  Someone whimpers. Someone else edges toward the back door. I realize, belatedly, that I’m still holding a sword. That probably isn’t helping my “reasonable citizen” vibe.

  I lower it. Slowly. Like I am negotiating with their nervous systems.

  “Okay,” I say, softer. “Where are the runemarks?”

  The teller’s eyes flick toward the right. Toward a heavy door and a short hallway beyond. “The vault,” she whispers, like saying it louder might summon the monster indoors.

  “Thank you.” Relief hits so hard my knees go weak for half a second.

  I set the sword down, gently, like I’m putting a sleeping baby in a cradle and not disarming myself in a bank during a monster attack. “I’m sorry,” I add, because I’m apparently committed to being polite even while committing crimes. “If anyone asks, tell them I was very respectful.”

  Then I sprint down the hallway.

  Behind me, a voice follows, shrill with terror and bureaucracy. “You need to sign a withdrawal form!”

  I skid just enough to throw the words back over my shoulder. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

  “It’s bank policy!”

  "Your policy is going to get eaten!" I shout. "You know what? A goose wandered into my apartment once on Earth, and even that had more sense than to worry about paperwork during a crisis!"

  Then I'm running again because I do not have time to be murdered by a creature with a circular blender for a mouth.

  The vault door is already open.

  Stacks of golden runemarks sit in neat columns on shelves lining the walls, and for one surreal second my brain offers up the thought: Oh good. They’re organized. Like I’m grocery shopping.

  I grab the nearest sack hanging from a hook and start shoveling marks into it with frantic, graceless handfuls. They clink dull and heavy, but underneath the sound is a low hum, soft at first, then louder as the sack fills, like I’m stuffing angry bees into fabric.

  “Why are you so heavy?” I hiss at the money, as if it’s being difficult on purpose. “What are you made of, condensed regret?”

  I scoop faster. The hum thickens. The sack grows heavier by the second, tugging at my shoulder like it wants to tear me in half.

  From the hallway, the teller’s voice rises again, still clinging to procedure like it’s a life raft. “Ma’am, you also need to provide identification!”

  “I’M DRIPPING MONSTER BLOOD!” I yell back. “IS THAT NOT ENOUGH IDENTIFICATION?”

  I hoist the sack over my shoulder and immediately stagger, my knees nearly buckling. "Oh no. Oh that's. . . That's much heavier than I thought." I adjust my grip, leaning forward to compensate for the weight. "Note to self: work on upper body strength. If I survive this."

  The square is worse when I get back. Smoke hangs in the air now, acrid and thick. Mira is panting, shoulders heaving, blood running down her side where a tentacle must have clipped her. Her sword arm looks heavier now, movements slower. The monster has almost reached the bank, its furthest tentacles gripping the edges of the stone steps that led to the front doors.

  The monster's mouth is open, drool dripping onto stone.

  Mira sees me and her eyes flare with relief and anger. "Be careful!" she shouts over the chaos. "If you break the runes, the mana releases!"

  The warning lands in my gut like a rock. "Oh good," I yell back. "More things that can go catastrophically wrong. Love that."

  The monster's head turns. Then it focuses on me. On the sack.

  Mira's voice cuts through, "RUN!"

  I run. Mira runs with me. Windows slam shut as we pass. Someone yells. Someone cries. The sack bounces against my back with every step, the weight pulling at my shoulder, throwing off my balance.

  Behind us, the monster follows. Fast. It drags itself along with terrifying efficiency, tentacles grabbing stone and wood, pulling its bulk forward like a living siege engine. It destroys whatever is in its path not out of rage but out of inconvenience. A cart becomes splinters. A stall collapses. A stone fountain cracks as a tentacle slams into it, water spraying.

  The ground shakes with every movement. I can hear it behind us, the wet slap of flesh on stone, the grinding of its mouth, the crash of destruction.

  "This was your plan!?" Mira shouts, and I can't tell if she's angry or impressed.

  "I didn't say it was a good plan!"

  The sack bounces against my back, heavy and awkward, pulling me off balance. Every step is a fight between forward momentum and the physics of carrying an entire bank's worth of mana on one shoulder. My lungs burn. My legs are starting to shake.

  We reach the outskirts where the buildings thin, where packed stone gives way to dirt road and brush. We're almost out. Almost. Just a little further.

  The monster surges. A tentacle whips forward with brutal speed, slamming into the ground in front of us. The impact sends a spray of dirt and small stones into my face. I flinch, lose a half-step, stumble.

  Another tentacle wraps around my ankle. It hooks. It yanks. My foot goes out from under me.

  I hit the ground hard. The sack slams down with me, crushed under my weight. The runemarks inside shifting, clinking... breaking.

  The runes.

  The sack compresses. And suddenly there are streaks in the air.

  At first they're almost invisible, thin wisps, like heat haze. They stream out of the crushed runemarks in delicate lines, curling upward and outward like they're alive, like they're looking for somewhere to go.

  Mira's boots skid beside me. "Fey!" she shouts, grabbing my arm. "Get up! GET UP!"

  The monster looms above us, tentacles rising like pillars, mouth opening wider, drool dripping down in heavy ropes. Mira shoves herself between me and it, sword raised, breathing ragged.

  "Run!" she snarls, swiping at a tentacle that comes too close.

  I try to push up off the ground.

  But I can't move. It's like my body suddenly remembers gravity in a new way. Like the air thickens around me, congealing. Like invisible hands press my shoulders down. My limbs twitch, but they won't obey.

  The streaks in the air bend. They turn.

  And they flow into me.

  They wrap around my arms, my torso, my throat. They sink into my skin with no resistance, sliding through me like I'm not solid.

  I gasp. The sensation is wrong in a way that makes my stomach flip. It feels like something is entering me, threading through muscle and bone, weaving itself around my nerves.

  I can't breathe right. Panic spikes sharp, hot. "Mira!" I choke out.

  The monster's shadow covers me. It's above me, mouth open, the circular ring of blades hovering inches from my face. Drool splashes on the dirt beside my cheek.

  Mira screams something and drives her sword into a tentacle. Dark fluid sprays across my face, warm and slick.

  I can't move. I can't move.

  And then... color.

  The streaks flooding into me change. They were almost invisible, just faint distortions in the air, but suddenly they have color, and not the colors I know. Not the red or blue or green I've been learning.

  These are… more.

  I don't have words for them. My brain tries to categorize them and fails, stuttering over shades that don't exist in any language I know. They bloom in my vision like a kaleidoscope shattering and reforming, swirling over my body, wrapping me in a coat of living illumination.

  Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands.

  The colors shift too fast to name, sliding into each other in ways that make my eyes ache. Some are close to things I know but wrong, like someone took the color and tilted it sideways.

  It's beautiful and horrifying, like staring directly into a sun that has opinions.

  The monster becomes a dark silhouette beyond the colors, blocked by the storm of light that's now spilling out of me, around me, through me, into me.

  Something inside my chest heats. A tugging sensation pulls at my stomach, deep and strange, like someone hooked a line into my ribs.

  I let out a sound as my muscles cramp all at once, sharp and sudden, like what happened at the stadium but dulled, spread out, less catastrophic.

  My hands scrabble uselessly at the dirt. My fingers find my pocket. The Eiffel Tower keychain. Metal bites into my palm as I clutch it.

  I close my eyes.

  I think of Eve, like a lifeline. I think of her laugh, loud and fearless, the way she would say "Fey, you're overthinking" and then do something impulsive that somehow worked. I think of her hand slipping from mine in the stadium. I think of her scream.

  I think, wildly, irrationally, "I want this monster gone. I want Mira to be safe!"

  I clutch the keychain so hard my hand hurts.

  Mira's voice is somewhere above the roar, strained and distant. Steel rings. Flesh slaps stone. She's fighting.

  I force my eyes open.

  Through the swirling colors, I see Mira. She's on the ground. Blood spreads dark across her side, soaking into her clothes. Her sword arm trembles as she tries to push herself up. Her face is tight with pain, teeth clenched so hard I can see the strain in her jaw.

  A tentacle lifts, poised to slam down.

  "Mira!" I scream. The sound comes out raw. Broken.

  I reach toward her.

  And something inside me tears.

  It feels like being split in half from the inside. Like my ribs are being pulled apart by invisible hands. Like my spine is a seam someone is ripping open.

  The world lurches.

  The air in front of Mira warps.

  The change starts small. A shimmer, like heat rising from pavement. Then the shimmer darkens, deepens, becomes something solid and hungry. The air splits in half, opening like an eye winking off the crust of a long night sleep.

  Runes flare into existence, rotating, bright, precise. They're the same as the ones from the stadium. They multiply, layering over each other in patterns that seem to have depth, like they're not just drawn on the surface of the world but carved into it, reaching through it. They pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat, and I can feel them pulling, tugging at something deep inside me, something that feels like it's being dragged out through my sternum.

  The portal opens wider. The symbols flare so bright I have to squint, and then they sink into the edges of the opening, becoming part of it, defining its boundaries.

  And through the opening, I see concrete.

  Gray and solid and familiar in a way that makes my chest ache. Pavement, cracked and weathered, with faded yellow lines painted across it, parking lot markings, the kind I never saw but walked across a thousand times. The area directly around the portal glows with borrowed mana from this world, illuminating a circle of that achingly familiar ground. Beyond it, everything fades into thick fog, gray and impenetrable.

  It's Earth. I'm looking at Earth.

  Then the monster screams.

  Its body lurches forward, massive bulk sliding across the cobblestones like something's grabbed it by the spine. The tentacles slam down, wrapping around stone columns, iron posts, anything solid. But the creature keeps moving, dragged toward the portal by a force I can't see.

  The air around me is still. Perfectly, eerily still. My hair doesn't move. The dust at my feet doesn't stir. Nothing pulls at me, nothing tugs at my clothes or the ground beneath my boots.

  But the monster is being ripped forward. Its tentacles flail wildly, clawing at the street, tearing grooves into stone. One wraps around a lamppost and holds, the metal groaning under the strain, but the creature's body keeps sliding, inch by terrible inch.

  The portal darkens the street. The world dims like someone's draining the color from reality itself. The reds and blues and greens I've been learning to name all bleed away, pulled toward that terrible opening. The colorful mana in my vision streaks toward it like rain in a windstorm, bright threads unraveling from everything and everyone.

  The monster's tentacles lose their grip. One by one, they tear free, and its body lifts off the ground, suspended for one horrible moment before it's dragged toward the portal, screaming, thrashing, helpless.

  And then I see Mira.

  She's on the ground, one hand pressed to her bleeding side, the other braced against the cobblestones. Her face is pale, twisted with pain and effort. She's trying to push herself up, trying to move away from the creature.

  A tentacle lashes out.

  It happens so fast. The appendage whips through the air and wraps around Mira's waist, coiling tight. She gasps, the sound sharp and pained, and then she's being dragged.

  "Mira!" I scream.

  Her fingers claw at the cobblestones, leaving streaks of blood. Her boots scrape against the street, trying to find purchase, but the monster's grip is iron. The tentacle tightens, and I can see it crushing her, see her face contort with pain as she fights against it.

  "No! No no no..." The words tear out of me.

  The creature goes first. Its body is launched toward the opening, tentacles flailing, mouth gaping wide. And Mira goes with it, wrapped in its grip, her body lifted off the ground.

  "Fey!" she screams, and her free hand reaches toward me, fingers grasping desperately at empty air.

  The monster tumbles through, its massive body disappearing into the portal. Mira is dragged after it, still wrapped in its tentacle, her body twisting as she's pulled toward the opening.

  "Close!" I scream at the portal. "Close! CLOSE!"

  Nothing happens.

  "CLOSE!" I think it, say it, scream it with everything I have left. "Please, please close!"

  Still nothing. The portal yawns wide, indifferent to my desperation.

  Then something clicks in my mind. I don't know where it comes from, some instinct I didn't know I had, some understanding. My hands move without thinking, reaching out toward the portal, fingers spread wide.

  And then I pinch.

  Like pinching fabric together. Like closing a seam. My hands squeeze the air, pulling an invisible opening shut.

  The edges begin to collapse inward, the opening shrinking

  I squeeze harder. My hands shake with the effort, every muscle in my body screaming. The portal contracts faster, the edges rushing together.

  It snaps shut.

  The sound is like a thunderclap in reverse, all the air rushing back into the space where it was. And the tentacle is severed, cut clean through by the closing portal.

  The piece still wrapped around Mira falls to the ground with a wet, heavy thud. She falls with it, gasping, still tangled in the severed appendage.

  My legs give out. I collapse, hitting the cobblestones hard, but I barely feel it. The heat inside me is gone, leaving behind exhaustion so heavy it feels like my bones are made of wet stone. My vision swims. The world tilts.

  But I can see her. Mira. On the ground, bleeding, wrapped in the dead tentacle, but here.

  Here.

  "Mira," I try to say, but no sound comes out.

  My arms won't hold me up anymore. I slip down, my cheek pressing against the cold stone. Everything is spinning, blurring at the edges.

  Then I hear it. Running footsteps. Fast, getting closer.

  "Fey!" Lyra's voice, high and panicked. "FEY!"

  I try to turn my head, but everything is spinning. The world blurs at the edges.

  They appear in my vision, Lyra and Kaela, both of them breathing hard, eyes wide. They're saying something, their mouths moving, but I can't hear the words anymore. I try to tell them Mira is okay, that she's here, that I saved her, but my lips won't form the words.

  The last thing I see is their faces above me, Lyra's expression twisted with fear and confusion, Kaela's eyes wide with something I can't recognize.

  As everything goes black, a sound slips through the space the portal just was, distant, a police siren, warped like it’s traveling through water.