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I’ve been saying all along. He may have been reborn, but my blood comes from a long line of power that’s beginning again with me. Luna tries escaping, and I strike her down with bolts of lightning.

“I was wrong,” Luna whispers while pressing down on her bloody arm.

“About what?”

“You’re extraordinary.”

I nod. “Unfortunately, Luna, life has got to be lost to preserve it.”

I stand over her and cage her in lightning until she’s dead.

I’ve done what no one else could do. I killed the one Blood Caster who Eva feared confronting on the battlefield, and I executed the queenpin before she could become unstoppable. I can’t wait to bust out of here and get back to Nova to celebrate with my family and Prudencia. I’ll ask the crew what we can do about getting me some proper Spell Walker gear and then we’ll take down the next threat.

The room spins and everything reverses in rapid flashes—what little color there was returns to Luna’s face as lightning retreats back inside my hands, she’s running backward, the acolyte’s corpse rises and exits, I’m pressed against the wall again and Dione’s hand is back around my throat.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” I say in choked breaths.

“Never,” Luna says. “Especially not at the hands of some fool who cannot tell an illusion apart from reality.”

“Illusion?”

Luna eyes one of the vials. “These are potions of mine that failed to convert humans into celestials and were revealed to have hallucinatory side effects. I couldn’t keep risking the health of my acolytes, so we’ve been selling them on the streets and filming the drinkers in the event one proves to exhibit actual powers so we can study the subjects. We’ve been marketing it as Brew—Ness’s idea, but surely he told you this given that he’s on your side, correct?”

I’m powerless and speechless. Of course I was drinking Brew like those clowns in the park. It was so lifelike, but the reality of Ness being a traitor is just as crushing. My brother thinks Ness is trying to turn over some new leaf and make an honest guy out of himself.

Dione drags me through the hall with ease, even though I’m resisting and dragging my feet. She throws me into a room where I skid across the concrete, scratching my arms and face, and rolling into Stanton’s feet. June continues reading through a dusty book, not glancing up at me once. Luna is the last one in and locks the door behind her, as if I stand any chance at getting that close to escape with three Blood Casters here.

“Your fantasy of what makes someone a hero is your downfall,” Luna says. “Not a long fall, of course, since you’ve never known great heights. To save and rebuild the world demands a soul that will do what is necessary. You don’t possess the nature or the heart that I do. But that’s okay. Everyone has their role.”

Stanton lifts me by the back of the neck and forces me into a chair against the wall.

My camera that I dropped at the cemetery for the wand is here and facing me.

“You crave the spotlight so badly,” Luna says. “Go ahead and give us a smile.”

ThirtyThe Brightest Fire

EMIL

I’ll never forgive myself for putting the world before my family. Turns out Eva can’t heal hearts, but Wesley was quick to grab Ma’s nitroglycerin, and we’ve got her stabilized down the hall while the rest of us are working away in the boardroom. I’m about to check in on her again when I get a notification alert on my phone.

Celestials of New York just uploaded a new video: Return the Urn.

“Brighton!”

Everyone turns to me. Prudencia snatches my phone. He’s got to be alive. No one else knows his super complicated password for any of his accounts. Unless they tortured it out of him. I’ve imagined so many nightmares for what they’re doing to Brighton the past four hours I’ve been without him. If Luna was so cruel with her parents and their ghosts, she would be merciless with my brother. Not going to lie, if things are as horrific as my gut thinks, death might be better.

“Play the video,” Prudencia says.

Atlas projects it onto the wall, and all the Spell Walkers are still.

The thumbnail shows Brighton with a scratched cheek and swollen eye. I thank the constellations that Ma took the sleeping pill so her heart could have a break. If she almost died imagining what was happening to Brighton, this video would finish the job. Prudencia is shaking, and when she grabs my hand, I don’t have the strength to clutch hers.

In the video, Brighton is in a chair with a grimy wall behind him. I’m immediately hit with all those memories of when Brighton watched wild spectacles, and how I never thought he would be the subject of one. My heart is slamming when I hear Stanton’s voice from the other side of the camera.

“Tell your brother what has to happen,” Stanton demands.

Brighton sits up. “Go to hell.”

“Do what they say!” Prudencia shouts as if this is a video chat.

Stanton comes around the camera, growling, and chokes Brighton. Brighton’s face is a deep red in moments and his eyes are bulging. I almost look away, but I’m never turning my back on my brother again.

Stanton releases him and he gasps for air. “Do it,” he says through clenched teeth.

Brighton is near tears, all stoic broken. “Emil . . .”

I have no idea what he’s going to say. Maybe that this is all my fault or how he’s about to die because of me.

“The only way to get me back is to return the urn and prisoner by seven a.m.” Brighton is shaking. “If you don’t, I’ll be executed on a live feed. Meet us at the place where we spent the last few minutes of our birthday.” Stanton brings the camera closer to Brighton, and he flinches. “If you don’t bring the real urn, they will kill me. If you show up without

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