I had to do something. Yet the weariness pushing through me couldn’t be denied so easily. I couldn’t think it away, couldn’t wish it to be gone. Every time I tried to fight against it with my mind, I swore it grew more powerful as if it were some knotted rope looping further around my body until it crushed me with all the force of a mountain.

  I could barely keep myself up. Every single one of my muscles shook and jerked, and my sweat-caked hair had fanned in front of my face, vibrating with every movement.

  Franklin let out a roar. He twisted his head over his shoulder and looked at me, his cheeks growing pale with concern and regret.

  “You monster,” he spat, then he began to fight her.

  They were just blurs of magic.

  The magic was the strongest I’d ever seen. Even in the Drift, I hadn’t felt anything like this. For even in the Drift, there was something lacking, wasn’t there? The pure hatred that both the White Witch and Franklin embodied. It gave them access to something I’d never had – this unending supply of destructive force.

  The White Witch sprang back and sliced her hand to the side, the scale-like icicles covering her fingers shooting toward Franklin from every direction. They formed a blizzard that obscured the naked concrete floor and blasted high into the air. But Franklin was fast – impossibly fast for a human. Heck, the exact speed he embodied shouldn’t have been possible even for a warlock of his caliber. He had access to a power he shouldn’t, and he used it for all it was worth. Every single time one of those tiny ice shards strayed too close to him or his perfect suit, he slashed out with his magic. His yellow-green glow would form indestructible barriers. Though I could tell from the White Witch’s ferocity that she was giving this fight everything she had, it wasn’t enough to pierce through Franklin’s envelope of protection.

  They screamed at each other as they fought, the power of their magic shaking the floor and rattling the ceiling above but never cracking the concrete.

  … What was this room? Why hadn’t I felt it earlier? Yes, I’d been a little distracted over the last day since Vali had sacrificed himself, but I’d conscientiously searched the whole building for magic.

  But this room was a complete surprise. It… didn’t feel right.

  That’s when I started to suspect something. The weakness marching through me could be more than some spell the White Witch had cast.

  This room was a prison, wasn’t it?

  I’d been in some pretty dicey situations before, but usually I had a direct way out. Fight the demon’s chair, and I could win. Fight Loki’s chains, and I could get out of there. But what the hell did I fight now? More to the point, what magic should I use?

  It was then that I noticed my connection to the Drift was gone. It hadn’t disappeared completely, but it had certainly been reduced.

  Though I didn’t have the energy to stand, and I could barely sit, let alone breathe, I forced myself to spread a hand over my chest, locking my palm against the exact point where that ice shard resided.

  … There had been a time when it had terrified me. There’d been a time when I’d tried to get free from it. But I could never be free; this was a part of me. It was like trying to run away from your own heart. Do that – remove your heart from your chest – and you’ll only kill yourself.

  It was the same with the shard. No matter what happened – no matter if I somehow succeeded in stopping this invasion, stopping the White Witch, and finding out who to trust in this nightmare of a world – that shard would remain. Right?

  I pulled my head up, twisted to the side, and saw Franklin through a break in my hair. It had fanned in front of my face, and I was too weak to hook it over my ears. But I could still see him. Even if my eyes had been tightly pressed closed, I would have been able to see him, for the light erupting off his form was so bright, it could rival the sun.

  He continued to fight without a single care for himself. The White Witch was vicious. As the fight drew on, I could tell she was pumping more of her magic into it until it looked as if she was willing to sacrifice her own life if only she could end Franklin’s.

  Again I was struck by the fact that anger and anger alone seemed to be the sole source of their incredible power.

  What about me? What about my connection to the Drift? And, more importantly, what about what Franklin had promised? He’d told me that the only way to end this – for good so it could never ever happen again – would be to close the doorways between the realms. He’d promised that the Drift would remain; its sacred connection to this realm would never fall. People would be born, people would die, and their souls would be reborn. The cycle of life and death would continue. But the threat of the fake gods spilling into our world would be blocked off forevermore.

  What about the door in my chest? It would always be there, and it was a path to the divine.

  That cold yet powerful realization spread through me all at once until it felt as if it would pull me apart cell by cell.

  I locked my palm even harder over my chest, letting my fingers curl in as if I wanted to dig the doorway right out and hold it in my hand.

  This was what connected me to the limitless power of the Drift – and this was why everyone wanted me, from Vali, to the White Witch, to the fake gods themselves. Even to Franklin.

  This tiny little doorway was what allowed me to destroy everything or save everyone.

  I just had to figure out who to trust.

  … My mind was brought back to the book I’d found in Vali’s office. So much had happened since then that I hadn’t had a chance to go through what I’d learned.

  And that knowledge? Distressingly, it seemed to be falling out of my mind. Though I tried to hold onto the facts I’d learned, I couldn’t. They were like water slipping through my cupped fingers.

  True distress filled me, and I lost the ability to sit. With a thump that rattled every single one of my muscles until it felt as if they would be pulled from my body, I fell to the side, my head banging against the cold concrete with a thunk.

  For the first time in a long time, Franklin stopped, no longer going on the offensive as he flipped back and returned his attention to me. “Lilly?” he screamed, and I had to admit there was unmistakable fear in his voice.

  The question was, was it fear for me? Fear for my life? Or fear for the fact his only opportunity for revenge would seemingly soon be gone?

  Revenge.

  As my mind began to shut down, as the cold weight of the room continued to push into me as if it would ground me to dust, I thought of that word. It sprang through my body, shook my mind, and nestled itself hard into my heart as if it was some kind of knife ready to split me in two.

  Revenge. Not only was Vali the God of Revenge, but now he had seen the light and turned against his own people, he intended to take revenge on behalf of humanity. As for Franklin, do I really need to point out that from the day he’d been born, all he’d sought was revenge?

  Even Bradley, who was now nothing more than a twisted, hopeless case, had sought revenge against others and me.

  As for the White Witch? I saw the desire for revenge in her brighter than anyone else. For her people – technically my people – had been ousted from heaven. They’d called themselves gods and set themselves down on the throne of the highest realm only to be usurped by the creatures they’d once shepherded. Her people – my people – were locked in the Drift, and the only way to pull them out would be to kill the fake gods and empty out heaven.

  So her desire for revenge was by far the strongest. In many ways, it alone had propelled this entire situation forward.

  What about me? Did I seek revenge? If I did, against whom?

  It was the only question my mind could consider now as the rest of me shut down. I was still vaguely aware of the White Witch and Franklin as they fought – more aware of Franklin as he stopped every few seconds to call my name. Yes, I could hear the fear in his voice. Yes, despite all reason, my heart told me it was genuine.

  But even that couldn’t distract from this question. Did I seek revenge?

  Had my journey – like everyone else’s journeys around me – been marred by that one quest?

  I wanted to shake my head – if I’d had the power to, that was. I wanted to push the concept away. Even the Lilly who’d never heard of this world and had been nothing more than a simple waitress had detested the concept of revenge. To the so-called moral society I lived in, revenge was abhorrent. Revenge was the mark of a person too simplistic, too passionate, and too controlled by their own emotions to see reason. If you did wrong, you were punished – or at least the State punished you on everyone’s behalf. But then you forgave. That was the only way to move on, wasn’t it?

  I hadn’t moved on. The more I’d searched my heart, the more blackness I’d seen. No, I hadn’t turned into Franklin yet, and god no, I hadn’t turned into the White Witch. But yes, right in my center was the desire for vengeance, for there was still a part of me that hated – with every fiber of my being – that I had been pulled into this world in the first place. It hated my grandmother and my ancestors for being descendants of the Shepherds. It hated Vali for having found me. It hated Franklin, the White Witch – even my friends. It hated them all, because they’d taken my innocent life, and they’d destroyed it to the point where it could never return.

  More than anything, I hated that ice-cold shard in my chest. It had given me power, yet it had crushed me with responsibility.

  I hated it all so much that for the briefest microsecond, I wondered if I could get revenge. You know, pull the plug – use my limitless power and attachment to the Drift to destroy all three worlds.

  That twisted, stupid, ignorant, irrational desire couldn’t last. It wasn’t true.

  I retained just enough energy to blink one eye open as I looked from Franklin to the White Witch. Their quest for vengeance is what kept them going. It’s what stopped them from caring about their injuries; it’s what stopped them from caring about who they hurt. The quest for vengeance had burnt up what was left of their life-flames and turned them into nothing more than pinpoints of pure anger. It was as if they were turning into revenge itself.

  That’s it.

  That’s what the White Witch was doing. That’s what this room was. That’s what her fight was all about. That’s what Franklin had done to himself. I got it now. I suddenly remembered the path of the Shepherd, even if most of that knowledge was leaking from my brain like blood from a broken artery.

  In life, you could choose what to align your life-flame with. You could choose which path to seek with it. For those with strong magic – with the ability to use other’s life-flames – vengeance was a truly powerful path to take. For anger and the quest for vengeance could destroy entire civilizations. It could draw them together, pull them under one banner, and destroy their reason and sense of self-preservation. It could harvest their life-flames – all in the name of vengeance. For vengeance couldn’t be quenched by any external force apart from the defeat of your foe. The further away you pushed defeat, the more of your life-flame you gave up.

  This was what Franklin had spoken of, wasn’t it? This was how the fake gods operated. They manipulated the life-flames of humans, giving them purposes they had not sought all to harvest the force of their souls.

  I… these thoughts flashed through my mind, and even if I couldn’t comprehend them fully and express them in a way that made sense – something in me understood. It was such a fundamental experience that it changed me. It also unshackled me, all in one life-defining instant.

  This room wasn’t something the White Witch had built. This was attached to Vali. It had to be. This room seemed to heighten your quest for vengeance.

  Perhaps he’d used it as a training ground. Maybe he’d meditated here, or perhaps he’d brought the worst sinners here to absorb their souls. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was I now understood what was keeping me locked to the spot.

  I couldn’t fight who I was. Nor could I fight who the people around me were.

  But there was one thing I could fight – my anger.

  I didn’t need it to fuel my power. I could fight – and stand – without it.

  I rose to my feet. It wasn’t hard. As I shrugged off the allure of anger and the desire for vengeance and pushed them both way beyond my reach, whatever had locked me in place lifted.

  I felt lighter than I ever had before, and as a blast of blue magic erupted from that shard in my sternum and encased my body, I floated several centimeters off the floor.

  The White Witch was the first to react. I watched her eyes blast open wide, icicles forming around them and turning into crystalline dust as shock rippled off her.

  “How?” she spat.

  I didn’t have to answer her. I shoved a hand to the side, spread my fingers wide, and felt my grandmother’s sword form against my fingertips. I paused for a single second, then lowered each finger over the hilt one-by-one. “I’m never going to help you,” I told the White Witch directly. “It doesn’t matter what you promised me. It doesn’t matter what you seek. I shall not help you. You’re twisted. Your need for vengeance controls your mind. Controls your power, controls your life-flame. And I will not let that destroy us all.”

  The White Witch shrieked as she jolted back.

  It was clear from the deep look in her ice-blue eyes that she wasn’t about to give up.

  That would be when I felt something behind me.

  There was a shard of ice.

  It was close – right by my back – and though I had encased myself in the power of the Drift, it wouldn’t be enough to save me.

  Franklin jumped into the air and pushed me out of the way just in time. The ice shard slammed into his shoulder. It didn’t act like a knife. As soon as it impacted his flesh, it began to twist and push and dig like a hand trying to catch hold of his shoulder bone and wrench it from his flesh.

  He screamed, the bellowing sound pitching through the room.

  “Franklin,” I shrieked, and it was my turn for my voice to pitch with genuine concern.

  There was nothing that could be done. I powered forward and tried to catch him, but he was thrust from my grip as that shard of ice pushed him backward 10 m, slamming him onto the ground and pinning him in place.

  Blood began to ooze and splash out everywhere, covering the once unmarked concrete floor.

  The White Witch wouldn’t let me reach Franklin.

  She spun and twisted her arm to the side. Icicles formed throughout the entire room. It was the strongest display of magic she’d shown yet, and it made my eyes twitch open wide.

  “Lilly, get out of here,” Franklin said. His voice was weak and growing weaker with every breath.

  I could see his life force slipping away from him as he spoke. No, I wasn’t talking about his blood – I was talking of that flame in the center of his chest. Right now, I could see it. I could actually see the softly burning flame as it began to diminish.

  This was the power of a Shepherd – I could see people’s souls now.

  I jolted forward, but he wouldn’t let me reach him. He spread a hand wide, and the yellow-green magic that had been encasing him and protecting him from the full brunt of the ice shard pinning him to the ground doubled. It also spread toward me just as the White Witch’s icicles moved.

  I staggered back as I realized Franklin was giving me the last of his magic. “No,” I shrieked, and there could be no denying the true power bellowing through my tone. There was no doubt in my mind anymore. As I looked into Franklin’s eyes, as I saw the desire playing in his pupils for me to live, all was forgiven. Not forgotten, but forgiven. Whatever twisted scrap of a man Franklin had become, right there in the center of his soul was something that hadn’t turned to vengeance.

  That something looked at me in his final seconds. “Just promise me you’ll end this. End the fake gods. End the connection to the Drift,” he said as blood splattered from his mouth.

  Franklin Saunders died. Before he did, as his magic enshrouded me, it spread out through the room.

  It reached the White Witch, and it extinguished her.

  She hadn’t been ready for his attack. It caught her off guard, and it cost her everything. She screamed as she was blasted apart and the last of Franklin’s magic and his passion for vengeance tore through her.

  As she was destroyed and as Franklin took his last breath, the rest of his magic transported me away.

  I reappeared on the top of the building. I fell to one knee, then the next, my sweaty hair slipping across my cheeks as I jerked my head back and screamed. I tried to throw a hand to the side, tried to open a Drift door, but I had no idea where that room was. My eyes jerked from left to right wildly as I scanned the blueprint of this building in my mind, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t find the room. I couldn’t find Franklin.

  I screamed again, my shriek bellowing from my throat and blasting across the whole city as it echoed from the roof. But there was nothing I could do.

  Nothing I could goddamn do.

  I’d lost another person. That fact – hard and cold – washed over me.

  He hadn’t been perfect. He’d been guilty of so many crimes. Yet in the end, I’d seen that he could change, and he’d saved my life.

  He’d given up his chance at redemption for me.

  I balled up a hand and slammed it into the concrete roof. Though it swayed and pitched, it didn’t crack, for it was still connected to me, and despite my anger and power, I couldn’t destroy the whole building and bring down everyone within.

  That didn’t stop me from pulling up a hand and striking the roof once more, my tears streaking down my cheeks, running over the flesh, and making it burn yet tingle with the frozen touch of a glacier.

  My magic still billowed around me, but the remnants of Franklin’s magic was there, too – that distinct gold-green.

  I screwed my eyes shut, and I remembered the first time I’d seen him. Remembered how much I’d fallen for him in the early days.