Relief washed over Theo’s features, quickly masked by casual confidence. “Just my research. Notes. Equipment. Nothing dangerous.”

  Blair’s enchanted watch vibrated against her wrist, a warning pulse that matched the ring’s sudden warmth. Something in his words had triggered the magical detectors she’d painstakingly accumulated over her years investigating Nightreach’s criminal underbelly.

  She didn’t call him out on the lie. Not yet.

  Instead, she crossed to the window, staring out at the city that had become her prison.

  “I need to make a supply run,” she said abruptly, turning back to face him. “We’re almost out of food and those pain-relieving potions you’ve been taking.”

  “I’ll come with you⁠—”

  “You’ll stay here,” Blair cut him off. “Rest. Make a list of what we need to get from your workshop. And when I get back, you’re going to tell me everything about your research. No more half-truths, because I know when you’re lying through your teeth, Hardy.”

  Theo hesitated, then nodded with obvious reluctance. “I’ve been honest.”

  Blair’s watch vibrated again. Another lie.

  “We’ll see,” she replied, grabbing her coat. “I won’t be long.”

  The moment the safehouse door closed behind her, Blair allowed her shoulders to sag. Three weeks playing nurse to an arrogant artificer who spoke in riddles and half-truths. Three weeks trapped in Nightreach with no path home. The MET had probably listed her as a missing person long before that—the last ever sighting was her leaving evidence storage the night she first met Vesper and Rafe.

  She needed to find a way back, and she knew she couldn’t count on Vesper. The Resonant had her hands full tracking down the Echo fragments and finding Blair a way home wasn’t even on her priority list.

  That meant she had to take matters into her own hands. It was time to find some magic of her own.

  The Bizarre had recovered faster than most areas of Nightreach, necessity driving merchants to rebuild and reinforce their shops with whatever magic they could scrounge. Colourful awnings fluttered above stalls selling everything from mundane vegetables to potions that defied description. The scents of exotic spices mingled with the distinctive crackle of residual magic, creating an atmosphere that almost felt normal despite the damage in the buildings’ façades.

  Blair’s compass guided her through the crowd, its needle swinging unerringly toward the apothecary tucked between a flower seller and a talisman maker. The shop’s windows had been hastily repaired, mismatched glass forming a patchwork that cast strange shadows across its interior. No wards glimmered across its threshold—another casualty of the Echo’s destruction.

  The bell above the door chimed softly as she entered. Shelves lined the narrow space, each laden with countless bottles, jars, and packages whose contents ranged from recognisable herbs to substances that seemed to shift and change. The air carried the scents of dozens of competing potions, a concoction that should have been overwhelming but somehow resolved into something almost pleasant.

  “Detective Calloway.” Edmund Bridges emerged from the back room, wiping his hands on a cloth that left iridescent streaks across his fingers. “I was wondering when you’d return.”

  The Head Healer of the Luminous Concordat had aged a decade in the past three weeks, silver streaking through his once-dark hair. Deep lines etched his face, marking the endless hours he’d spent tending the wounded after the Echo’s destruction. Yet his eyes remained kind, if weary, as he gestured for Blair to approach the counter.

  “The usual supplies?” he asked, already reaching for the familiar packet of pain-relief potions.

  “You’re still here?” she asked. “I thought you’d be back at Thornhallow by now.”

  “The Concordat has many qualified healers,” he said. “Nightreach does not.”

  Blair pursed her lips. “That’s…admirable. How much sleep are you getting?”

  Edmund shook his head. “How is our patient progressing?”

  “Better than expected,” she replied, placing money on the counter. No small talk then. “He’s argumentative and restless.”

  Edmund’s eyebrows raised. “That’s to be expected. It’s a new and exciting world out here these days, especially for a researcher with a certain reputation.”

  “I guess you could say that.” Blair watched as Edmund gathered various bottles. “Anything new from the Concordat?”

  “The official position is that the city is stabilising.” Edmund’s tone conveyed exactly what he thought of that assessment. “Unofficially, wards are failing, buildings are collapsing, and there’s rumours of magical anomalies in the tunnels. I think the Limina may have to unravel most of the city’s wards before anything can be done about them.”

  “And the shadow constructs?”

  Edmund’s hands stilled momentarily. “Gone.”

  Blair supposed it was good news, but magical anomalies would hamper her own attempts to get home. “So, in other words…time is all we need.”

  “Time heals all wounds, or so they say.” Edmund set the bag of potions on the counter. “Is that all you need today?”

  Blair nodded, disappointed that she wouldn’t likely be getting any help from the Concordat, not even after she’d risked her life in the Fold beside the new High Witch herself, Ember Vance. “There is something else,” she said. “Do you know anything about human-accessible magic? Artefacts or techniques that might allow someone without innate abilities to channel power?”

  Edmund’s movements slowed, his gaze sharpening. “That’s a rather specific inquiry, Detective.”

  Blair snorted. “You said it yourself. It’s an exciting new world out there, one that’s suddenly become the only one I can access. Surely you understand where I’m coming from?”

  “Hmm.” Edmund’s noncommittal response spoke volumes. “Most artefacts that allow humans to channel magic come with…significant drawbacks. The magic requires a conduit, you see. Without natural pathways, it must create them.”

  “And the cost?”

  Edmund met her gaze, his expression softening. “I wouldn’t advise pursuing it, Detective. Magic always exacts a price, and those without natural gifts tend to pay more.” He nodded toward her ring. “Your small enchantments have served you well so far. Some gifts are best appreciated for what they are, rather than what we want them to be.”

  Blair nodded slowly, grabbing the bag of potions. What she wanted was to take a risk, to leap into the darkness come what may…not listen to warnings her own common sense had already been trying to scream at her. If she ever wanted to go home, all that had to go out the window.

  “Thanks anyway,” she muttered.

  “Detective.” Edmund’s voice stopped her as she turned to leave. “Whatever you’re considering, please don’t do anything rash. I don’t think this story is over…”

  “Thanks for your concern,” she said, “but I’m a big girl, Edmund.”

  The healer frowned as she turned, but didn’t stop her as she left the apothecary.

  The warning lingered in Blair’s mind as she made her way back through the Bizarre. Her grandmother’s ring felt heavier now, weighted with questions that had no easy answers.

  Blair’s watch vibrated against her wrist as she turned down the alley leading back to the safehouse. She froze, hand moving instinctively to her gun. The enchantment in the timepiece detected magic in use nearby, the pattern unfamiliar and potentially hostile.

  She pressed herself against the wall, inching forward until she could peer around the corner. The narrow street beyond appeared empty, though her watch continued its warning pulse. Whatever magic triggered the alarm remained invisible to her limited human senses. Perhaps one of the anomalies Edmund had mentioned.

  This was the problem. The insurmountable disadvantage she’d lived with since discovering Nightreach. While others could see and manipulate the magical currents around them, she remained blind, reliant on enchanted objects that offered only the crudest approximations of true magical sight.

  The vibration intensified suddenly. Blair ducked back into the alley as a wave of magical energy rolled past, powerful enough that even she could sense its disturbance.

  When the sensation passed, she risked another glance. The street remained empty, but something had changed. The magical signature had evolved, becoming more focused, more directed. Almost as if it were searching for something.

  Blair remained absolutely still, counting heartbeats until her watch stopped vibrating. Only then did she continue on her way, wondering if it was the ley lines settling that was causing all the problems.

  By the time she reached the safehouse, her thoughts had solidified into determination. She couldn’t continue like this—blind, helpless, dependent on enchanted toys. Not when the stakes had never been higher, not when her only path home lay through understanding and harnessing the very forces that remained beyond her grasp.

  She needed magic of her own, whatever the cost. And despite his evasions and half-truths, Theo Hardy, with his scientific approach to magical energy, might be the key to getting it.

  The safehouse door creaked open at her touch. Inside, she found Theo exactly where she’d expected—hunched over scattered papers at the small table, sketching diagrams that glowed faintly in the fading afternoon light. He looked up as she entered, a feverish excitement in his eyes that made her instantly wary.

  “I’ve been thinking about the ley line disruptions,” he began without even bothering to say hello. “If I can map the harmonic frequencies in the newly reconnected areas of the city, we might be able to predict where the next wards will fail.”

  “That sounds like applying scientific method to magic,” Blair replied, setting down her purchases. “Isn’t that what got you in trouble with the College?”

  Theo’s expression hardened momentarily. “The College fears what it doesn’t understand. They’d rather follow ancient texts and rituals than see the patterns with their own eyes. Data. That’s what we need. Data.”

  Blair unpacked the potions, arranging them neatly on the counter while considering her next words. “In my world, we call that the scientific method. In yours, it might be heresy.”

  Theo straightened, his earlier fatigue seemingly forgotten. “Magic and science are just different frameworks for understanding the same reality.”

  Blair met his gaze steadily. “And does your ‘progress’ include ways for someone without magic to channel power?”

  A flicker of surprise crossed his features, followed by cautious interest. “Theoretically. The human nervous system could potentially serve as a conductor for magical energy, given the right preparation and stabilisation techniques.” He tilted his head, studying her with new intensity. “Why do you ask?”

  Blair touched her grandmother’s ring, feeling its gentle warmth against her skin. “Curiosity,” she replied. “And practical necessity.”

  “Practical how?”

  “I need to go home, Hardy.” The admission cost her more than she cared to show. “Back to London. And since Vesper shattered my way back, I need to find another path.” She sighed. “And it’s not just me. There are others who’ve been trapped on either side. We didn’t even get a chance to…” she trailed off, scowling.

  Understanding dawned in Theo’s eyes. “I see. But you don’t need magic of your own to find a way. Just someone who does…and is willing to help.”

  Blair’s scowl intensified. “You know what? I’m tired of being helpless in a world where magic makes the rules.” She met his gaze unflinchingly. “I’m a detective with no ability to see the very things I’m investigating. A human trapped in a magical city with no way home. That needs to change. I need to level the playing field if I’m going to survive.”

  Theo leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Human channelling is…problematic. The physical toll can destroy your mind at the least and rip you apart at the worst.”

  “I’m aware of the risks.”

  “Are you?” Theo’s voice sharpened. “Magical energy requires proper pathways. In those born with the gift, these channels develop naturally from birth. Creating them artificially is like…” He paused, searching for an analogy she would understand. “Like rewiring your entire nervous system without anaesthesia.”

  “Yet it’s been done before.”

  “With mixed results,” Theo countered. “For every successful Channeller in the historical record, dozens died in the attempt. Others went mad, their minds unable to process the influx of magical awareness.”

  “Channeller?” she asked. “So it already has a name?”

  “Blair—”

  But she stood her ground. “You’ve been researching energy containment and stabilisation. I’ve seen your notes. The diagrams, the equations. You’re looking for ways to control volatile magical sources, to direct them in predictable patterns.”

  “For external applications,” Theo protested. “Not human integration.”

  “But the principles would be similar, wouldn’t they?” Blair pressed. “A human nervous system is just another potential container for magical energy. With the right approach⁠—”

  “Stop.” Theo ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “You’re talking about something incredibly dangerous. Something that could kill you, or worse.”

  “Worse than being trapped here forever?” Blair demanded. “Worse than watching people I care about die while I stand helpless because I can’t access the power needed to save them? Power that you all take for granted!”

  Her voice had risen despite her efforts to maintain control. The frustration of weeks—no, years—poured out in a torrent she couldn’t contain. All the times she’d been forced to stand aside while magical threats endangered London. All the criminals who’d escaped because she lacked the power to track them properly. And now, the final insult—losing her home, her life, her world, because someone else’s choices had severed her only path back.

  Theo studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate care, he gathered the papers scattered across the table into a neat stack.

  “There might be a way,” he said finally, his voice low. “Not with my current research, but with something I’ve been considering theoretically. A stabilisation protocol designed for human neural pathways that could potentially allow controlled channelling without the traditional risks.”

  Hope flared in Blair’s chest, quickly tempered by wariness. “And why would you help me?”

  Theo’s smile held no joy. “Because I need someone with your skills. Someone who can help me uncover who was really behind my research funding. Someone who can operate in Nightreach without political entanglements. Well, any entanglements.”

  “An exchange of services,” Blair murmured.

  “Sure.” Theo extended his hand. “You help me find answers. I help you find a path home. Beginning with a visit to my workshop to retrieve my notes before whoever targeted me decides to destroy the evidence.”

  Blair considered his outstretched hand, weighing the risks against her desperate need for a solution. Theo wasn’t telling her everything, her watch confirmed that with its occasional vibrations, but he might be her only chance at acquiring the power she needed.

  “Deal,” she said, grasping his hand. “But no more half-truths, Hardy. I need to know exactly what I’m getting into.”

  “Of course.” Theo’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Complete transparency.”

  Blair’s watch vibrated once more against her wrist, detecting the lie even as she chose to accept it. For now.

  Her grandmother’s ring pulsed warmly in response, as if acknowledging the path she’d chosen. A path that might finally answer the question that had haunted her since first setting foot in Nightreach: what exactly was her connection to this world of magic and power?

  And what price would she pay to claim her share of it?

  Chapter 4

  The bedrock at the heart of Thornhallow pulsed beneath Ember’s bare feet, each heartbeat of magic sending tendrils of warmth through her body.

  She stood perfectly still at the centre of the ritual chamber, the weight of tradition pressing down heavier than the stone ceiling arching above. She remembered Vesper once stood here, in this very chamber, facing her own trials when the world had started to crack.

  Saltfire glyphs smouldered in circles around her, their sacred light casting her shadow in seven directions—one for each council member who surrounded her, one of them recently promoted.

  “Through flesh and marrow, through ember and brine,” the Council murmured, their voices intertwining like strands of a forgotten melody.

  Ember closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the glyphs intensify. These marks weren’t meant for casual magic. They were the Concordat’s most sacred spells, used only in the most solemn ceremonies. They were so special, she’d never seen them used.

  Now the Council used them for her.

  “We bind the fractured, we mend the broken,” Johanna Singer called out, her voice rising above the others.

  The incense smoke thickened, cedar and myrrh coating Ember’s tongue with bitterness. She fought the urge to cough as bloodroot’s metallic tang cut through the heavier scents. Her ceremonial robes hung heavy, the embroidered sigils seeming to writhe in the flickering light.

  “Will you become the vessel through which our ancestral wisdom flows?” Eleanor Cleary asked, stepping forward from the circle.

  “I do,” Ember replied, the words scraping her dry throat.

  Deirdre Kröger’s eyes narrowed from across the circle. “Do you swear to uphold the ancient laws, to preserve what remains of our traditions in these broken times?”

  There was accusation in her tone that rubbed Ember the wrong way. There always was when Deirdre addressed her. The conservative faction had never trusted Ember, not since she’d stood with Marina against Beatrice…but Thornhallow had chosen in the end.

  “I swear it,” Ember said, meeting Deirdre’s gaze without flinching.