The sky above swirled with angry black clouds, rain pelting the ground, soaking the wood and fabric and my skin, down to my very bones. Thunder echoed, though there was no lightning to be seen, only the heavy darkness of the moonless night. All of those things barely registered, though, in face of the thing that truly drew my eyes.

  It was her.

  The first thing that struck me was the dress. It was the purest white I’d ever seen, almost glowing despite the pouring rain, not a single scratch or tear or stain upon its surface. The fabric was translucent, ethereal and finely patterned, a stark comparison to the body that lay beneath.

  It was her. Antares. Queen of the corruption. Her skin was shining bronze, metallic scales twisted into humanoid shape. A Patron, corrupt, twisted, battered, bruised. Between the scales were cuts and scars, blood dripping from her hands and bare feet, staining everything she touched with dark crimson. The bloody hands clasped a sword longer than I was tall, iron wrought into what might have once been an elegant blade, now wreathed in thorns and barbs that wrapped along its whole length, not stopping at the hand but continuing up her arm all the way to the shoulder.

  And where her face ought to have been, there was a mask lacking all human features, a blank sheet of metal criss-crossed with jagged gashes. Hot steam poured out of the cracks in regular intervals—it took me a moment to realize that they were breaths. A crown of thorns twisted around her head, regal and grim and oh-so-painful-looking as the barbs dug into her hair and scalp. But she showed no discomfort. She wore it as if it were nothing.

  We were paralyzed, staring awestruck at the Patron standing in our midst. It was Jonathan who broke us out of our stupor. Of course it was. “Benjamin, get the other soldiers out of danger.” My instructor stood up calmly, stretching his arms as his necklace began to glow.

  It took a moment for Benjamin to register that Jonathan had been speaking to him. Of course, even he’d been stunned by the appearance of a Patron in the flesh. “But sir—”

  “No buts. This is no place for them. She is a Patron. She is here for the Cradle. She is here for the Luminare. She is here for me. Not for you.”

  For me?

  Jonathan’s eyes were glowing too, now, gold and bright and strong. “Stay out of her way.” There was commotion among soldiers, the sounds of shuffling and some footsteps. But of course, nobody would really run. Nobody would seek cover. In such a situation, who wouldn’t stay and watch?

  “What do you want us to do, Jonathan?” I asked.

  “Stand back, Iris. She is a greater power than you can possibly imagine. I alone have truly seen her. I alone will take her on.” Magdalene. The name flashed through my mind. The way he stood before Antares recalled the murals I’d seen of her, of her stand in ages past. No. I wouldn’t let him. “Jonathan don’t—”

  His wrist slipped out of my hand. Ethereal wings spread out behind him as he stepped forward to face her. “Antares.” Jonathan’s voice was firm. Unafraid, even. And why would he be? He was the very best. The greatest hero of our generation. He had stood before her before, and lived.

  But she was still Antares.

  She didn’t even acknowledge him. “Oh. I remember. It was that story. That story about that little brat, Lumis. That’s what I was interrupting.” Her voice was the sound of nails scraping against ceramic, an assault on the ears that blotted out every sound, every sight, every thought, filling in the void with simply agony. I covered my ears. It made no difference. The sound permeated every fibre of my being, leaving nothing but the sensation of each and every letter carved onto the inside of my skull.

  But Jonathan approached her still. “Antares, look at me! What are you doing here?”

  The Patron pressed forward, bare feet not even touching the ground as she glided silently across the clearing. “Do I even need to answer? I am here for you, as you said.”

  For him?

  She was close now. So close. From here, she towered over even Jonathan, a giant walking among us. But even more than her bloody scales and ghostly dress, more than her featureless face or the crown of thorns atop her head or her voice that rent my mind asunder, her presence was the worst of all. Despite the winter chill and pouring rain, it was warm—no, hot, even. My skin tingled and crawled and itched like crazy, as if her scales were already scurrying around beneath the surface, eating away at my flesh and bones. The smell was overwhelming, a heady mix of cinnamon and spices that made my mouth tingle and my eyes water and my throat burn. But still I couldn’t help but breathe it in, take it in. Despite the pain, I wanted to experience every moment of it with every bit of my being.

  Around the camp, the soldiers shuffled yet more uncomfortably in their hiding places. Alicia nervously scratched at her palm. Jake kept his eyes shut, arms crossed tight across his chest while Emily clung to him from behind. Instructor Elizabeth’s eyes were red, glowing silver only faintly as she pressed a hand against her neck to calm herself. Uncle Saul leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist, taking laboured breaths as he thought and planned, his Complement circling us to keep us safe. Instructor Irene leaned over to whisper something in his ear. He nodded, muttering something back.

  “Leave us, Antares.” Jonathan alone stood unfazed and radiant. The Mark of Lumis around his neck glowed brighter than ever. His eyes shone like the sun. Arcs of electricity danced over his skin and flew between his fingertips.

  “Leave? Don’t play games with me. You know what I’m here for, child. I spared your life before. I am only here to reclaim what is mine.”

  “I do not belong to you.”

  Antares laughed, the sound of nails raking across my eardrums. Her blade swung through the air to point its jagged tip at Jonathan’s neck. “We’ll see about that.” The blade flashed in the rain.

  “Now!”

  Antares staggered, because eighteen bullets buried themselves in her torso. Then a second time, and a third, and a fourth. It had been a ploy. A trick. No shining light, no elegant power of the Patrons, just the lead of modern machines, loud shots echoing in the air, harsh impacts sending scales and blood and flesh over what was once a god. Modern power. In that instant, I understood, felt it shaking my bones. This was something new, perhaps. There was something resembling courage in the faces of the soldiers, grim satisfaction in their smiles. For a moment, Jonathan’s eyes lit up. It was going to work. A few men even laughed.

  The dread queen Antares lay in the water, pooling from the pouring rain. Blood poured from countless wounds, mixing and swirling as it seeped into the earth. She was dead. It had been that easy. That simple.

  Of course it wasn’t.

  Antares stood up and laughed, an inhuman shriek of scraping bones and shards of glass that compelled everyone to cover their ears lest their share her agony. Her dress was still impossibly white, ethereal, not a single hole in the wet fabric. The body underneath was peppered with holes, but she showed no sign of discomfort. Spindly fingers reached into her wounds, pulling out the bullets one by one, flicking them to the ground and crushing them beneath her bare feet.

  Because of course she was okay. For a moment I’d been transfixed by the modern lie, the dream that we mere humans could approach the power of a god. She was a Patron. She was Antares! And she revelled in her performance, her feigned agony, mocking us and our frail mortal bodies, which were so easily broken, so easily twisted by her own tricks and torture.

  Antares spoke again, addressing only Jonathan. Nobody else was even worthy of her consideration. “I did not expect Polaris’s chosen daughter to act so lowly. To use such crude methods does not befit your station.”

  “And I did not expect a Patron to disturb us on this night before Solstice. Why defile a sacred day?”

  “It is not yet Solstice,” she said. “And you are the ones defiling this day. You are the ones violating my daughter’s Cradle. And you are the one who has returned, daughter of Polaris, despite my warning. Despite my prophecy. Do you not recall the words I gave you that day?”

  “I do not believe your lies,” said Jonathan. “But if it’s a rematch you want, I’d be happy to give you one.”

  Antares levelled her sword. “Give me? You misunderstand, child. What you will give me is not a competition. It is not a battle. Do not misunderstand who it is that controls your life. I am a Patron, and you will become mine. Your path is set. It was set when I spared you, long ago.”

  “Keep your distance now! For real this time.” said Jonathan, addressing us one final time. The soldiers needed no further encouragement, scurrying back into their hiding places. “But watch. You will see a demonstration of our Patron’s power. The light of Polaris still shines bright.” The necklace began to glow once more, fire tracing the lines and more, rushing over his skin in spiralling patterns.

  And then he went dark and sparks began to fly.

  As his light vanished, the clearing was plunged nearly into darkness. The dim orange glow of the Cradle provided a backdrop for the spectacle, just barely illuminating the silhouettes that danced around in the moonlight. But every few moments, the battlefield was illuminated by flashes of his lightning, images in brilliant clarity for just a moment before fading back to darkness just as quickly. Vignettes. One step, then another. The dance had begun.

  Of course, he was no match for her. Her movements were too fast, her sword carving half-moon arcs that only missed him by a hair’s breadth, scattering pebbles as each swing struck the rocky ground. With every step and lunge, her dress scattered droplets that caught the light like embers. There was a jagged, disorienting flow to her movements, locking in place after every miss, never following through. It was like her body was wound up like a spring, delivering an ever-flowing barrage that sliced apart the air around her.

  Jonathan was already feeling the heat of the moment. Less than a minute had passed, but already in the momentary light of every strike I could see the sweat glistening on his brow, his chest heaving, his hands smoking. It was taking everything he could muster to keep up with her. But despite it all, he was moving closer and closer. He was pushing her back.

  Antares was on the defensive. Her feet shuffled back, struggling to find a sure foothold on the slippery rocks. Through the dim light and pouring rain, Jonathan’s dark form was a blurry target until it exploded in blinding clarity, like a spirit of lightning flashing through the storm.

  Thunder crackled. Antares staggered, and everyone cheered. But Jonathan didn’t let up at all, continuing his push in closer, lightning flaring from his hands, fire glowing in his eyes. His assault sped up, palms striking at air or grasping at her gossamer fabric. Each time his fingers just grazed the material, missing her skin but igniting the fabric. Close. But not close enough. Never close enough.

  The back-and-forth motions hastened, a dance of steel and light that grew ever more complex and strangely beautiful. In the darkness, there was only the drumbeat of torrential rain and the rhythm of Jonathan’s footsteps, punctuated by the heavy sounds of Antares’ thorny blade slicing through the air.

  I almost missed the melody. It was quiet, at first, barely discernible over the crackling of the wet gravel. The sound was discordant, a wall of wailing echoes and bells that I didn’t really register as music. Still, it wormed its way into my consciousness and pushed everything else out. The Patron’s movements kept time with her humming. It grew louder and louder, hooks digging into my flesh and tugging my soul into her sway.

  Jonathan was feeling it too, his movements staggering in resistance before locking in step with hers, captive in the dance they shared. Still, he didn’t falter, his light flashing and shining brighter with each deflected strike, each miss bringing her heavy blade crashing into the stony ground and sending a splatter of mud and ice and jagged pebbles flying into the air.

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  I could already tell from his movements what Jonathan was trying to do. He danced ever closer to her, each strike missing by a narrower margin. Antares felt it too, pulse and pace quickening as she felt the sure strike approaching.

  There it was. A feint. Jonathan shifted his body just long enough for her to commit to another heavy swing before lunging forward. His body lit up, cloaked in all our Patron’s brilliance. He was more than just Jonathan, in that moment. He was Magdalene, and Lumis, and everyone in between, an echo of their brilliance, taking his place among the stars in the sky.

  But that wasn’t the light that struck me.

  Most people in Novatica knew the two lights well. The first was the bright light, shining from our hands, making paths clear, banishing the darkness before us. The other was the red light of fire, hot and painful, a weapon to cleanse and purify and burn the impure to ashes. Every child with golden eyes was taught to use them, to harness and control the gift of Polaris flowing within their bodies. Even those who were not Luminare still knew and used these lights, if only weakly.

  I remembered teaching some children of the lights myself, bright-eyed orphans newly adopted into Polaris’s family, five or six years old and reaching out their hands in awe as they realized the awesome power that was theirs by birthright.

  But there was a third light. One that was not taught to children, nor to adults. The third light was dark. Not black, but truly, truly dark. invisible. A light that cut through flesh and bone and turned it to black rot and slime that melted away to nothingness. No purification. No cleansing. Only agonizing pain and death. Of course, we didn’t use it, not really. It was incredibly dangerous to the user. And by tradition, it was forbidden. A truly dreadful and terrible option. A last resort. But Jonathan had always been a little loose with the rules and traditions. I’d even seen him use it before. And he was doing it again.

  I caught his gaze for a second. The look in his eyes told me everything. He planted his feet and sprung forward like a firecracker, the deadly strike aiming for Antares’s heart.

  And as quickly as that, it was all over.

  Antares caught his hand, snapping it back at a painful angle. Keeping his wrist in her grip, she lifted him up off the ground before slamming him into the wet gravel. “Impressive, child. Now, if you’re done with your tantrum, I am going to take what I came here for.”

  “Wait,” said Jonathan, struggling to his feet.

  “You’re in no place to bargain, child. Know your place.” Her talons curved to grasp his arms and legs, leaving burns where hot metal tore through his jacket and raked at his flesh. Not from the heat, but from... something else.

  “Jonathan!” I screamed. But my voice was a hoarse whisper. It was nothing. I was nothing. Nothing compared to her.

  Antares dominated the field with her presence, holding her grim trophy up high as she marched toward the Cradle. “Behold. The daughter of Polaris dies once again today. For what she did. For how she defiled my daughter’s Cradle.”

  Nobody could move. We could only watch, eyes transfixed, as she lifted him up. What could stop her? Polaris herself, only. But our Patron was far away. She’d entrusted this mission to us. Had she set us up for failure?

  No.

  We were the only ones left who could do anything.

  My eyes locked with Alicia. “No”, she said.

  “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

  “No, Iris.”

  “It’s now or never, Alicia. We can do this. We have Polaris on our side. Jonathan needs us. Everyone needs us.” This was it, right? The time had come, as Jonathan had said. He was in danger. They were all in danger. Antares, that wretched queen, was closing in on him. The stage was set. The actors were all in place.

  All we needed to do was play our part.

  I squeezed her hand. “Alicia, we need to do this. We... we have Polaris’s eyes watching us. We’ll be safe. I promise.”

  “R-right.” Though her voice quivered, Alicia was readying her complement. Her bracelets shattered into steel that whipped into the air around us. Her eyes glowed brighter than I’d ever seen before.

  “Let’s give it our all.”

  “Antares!” I shouted.

  “Iris.” Jonathan just said one word. But that one word said everything I needed to know. He didn’t want me to step in. He’d told me, yes, but I’d disobeyed him before. This was different. I’d only heard this voice three times. It triggered something primal in me, something deep down in my training that could never be ignored.

  But I pushed through it all because I knew it was what I had to do. I grabbed Alicia’s hand. We ran into the clearing.

  And in an instant, she was before us, her blade’s jagged edge tearing through the air. We tumbled to the side just in time as rocks and roots shattered against the metal, dust and debris scattering into the air. Her presence filled the air around us, heavy spices burning my lungs with every breath.

  “What do you hope to accomplish, children?” she asked.

  “O Patron,” I said aloud, my voice quivering with each syllable. I couldn’t continue. My lips and throat burned, the noxious scent making me nauseous. The words just wouldn’t fall out from my lips. “O Patron.”

  “What is wrong?” she taunted. She looked away, not granting us so much as a shred of her attention as she bore down on Jonathan. “If you have something to say, speak now?”

  “Nothing,” Alicia spat. Having mustered up the courage to act, Alicia would be unstoppable. Her complement whirled forward, and that was the only push I needed. Just like that, we were in lockstep. My heart roared to life, fire bursting through my veins, light streaming from my eyes. We would be perfect. We would do something.

  She still didn’t even turn her gaze to face us. Her blade just traced lazy circles through the air that slashed at where we would have been.

  Her slashes struck air, of course. We crouched just in time, rolling into position. Alicia’s gentle adjustments kept me just ahead as her complement circled around us, blunting the sword strikes and feeling out the Patron’s defences. “We need to keep our distance,” said Alicia.

  “Right.” We hung back, letting Antares’s sword dance in the air between us, our footsteps locked in step with her rhythm. She kept bearing on Jonathan.

  “Look at me!” I shouted, though I was distracted too. My eyes couldn’t help but wander to my instructor, to the patches of flaky skin, to the bumps and bruises on his hands and feet, crawling through the mud towards the rest of the group. “Just a little longer,” I insisted.

  “And then what?”

  “I don’t know! We’ll get Jonathan to safety, okay?”

  Alicia screamed. The ground where she’d been standing seconds ago was split open, the pulverized dust mixing with the rainfall like rivers of blood across the ground.

  “You okay?”

  “Y-yes. Sorry. I was distracted. Keep moving. Keep moving!”

  My boots slipped on the gravel, my pants getting soaked with the mud that splashed with each step as we scrambled around her. Of course, we were tiring. Each strike landed closer to us. Every attack I tried was just a little too far away, a little too slow to catch her as she danced circles around us.

  This couldn’t go on forever. Jonathan was still struggling up the slope. Nearly there. Just a bit longer and he’d be safe. And then... and then...

  And then Alicia’s boots slipped on the slick terrain, just enough for her to stumble. That was more than enough opportunity for Antares. She turned in place, swivelling straight towards her. I leapt to my partner’s side, my mind racing to find something, anything that I could do to stop her. Anything to slow her for just a bit. Even just to distract her...

  Lightning. Lightning. I needed to... Sparks sputtered between my hands, flickering just too weakly. Just too little to do... to do anything.

  “It is over.” Her blade was already heading straight for both of us, a metallic flash of her own lightning that cut through the rain with deadly speed and precision, and would cut through our flesh and bones just as easily.

  “Wait.” Jonathan. Just moments ago he’d been on the far side of the clearing. But now he was here, body battered, half-broken, carried only by the glowing wings emanating from the necklace engraved into his neck. Even his eyes were almost entirely shut, barely held open by sheer willpower. He couldn’t stand straight. He held up his hands as if to threaten her, despite his obvious inability to fight.

  “Silence, child. You’ve caused enough trouble today.”

  “I have a message from Polaris.”

  She paused, surprisingly. The heat emanating from her dissipated; the smell subsided, the noise went quiet. Just for a moment. She held him up to her ear, and he whispered something to her.

  “Is that so? The cost will be great.”

  He nodded.

  “Fine. It will be so.”

  In an instant, the sensory assault resumed. I fell to my knees. Jonathan screamed, falling to the ground and writhing about in agony. “Keep your word, Antares...” Jonathan’s voice, as quiet and hoarse as it was, cut through the cacaphony and reached my ears.

  Her blades started moving again, coming ever closer. A storm of steel that was unstoppable. I heard the screech of metal scraping against metal: Alicia’s complement attempting to slow it down. But it was hopeless. Would this be the end? What had Jonathan said? I could barely keep those thoughts together as everything around me faded to black.

  The last thing I heard was her raspy voice, knives carving words into my memory. “I will keep my word. A Patron’s word is always trustworthy.”