The street, and Kure at its center, rushed up at Daivad’s boots.

Kure braced his harpoon over his silver-haired head, but Daivad’s magic was strong enough, concentrated enough around his body that it did little to protect Kure. The Selachian was blown back into one of the few market stalls that remained standing. Or, that had remained standing until Kure’s body exploded it in wooden shrapnel and fruit pulp.

Daivad hit the street like a meteor, sending cobblestone, earth, and wood spraying away from the point of impact. He growled—that should have crushed Kure under him, but the Selachian had leaned back the instant he’d realized he couldn’t cut through Daivad’s magic. Well, couldn’t completely cut through his magic—there were a few gashes in Daivad’s boots, and the bottoms of his pants were shredded from that jagged magic. He felt blood warming the bottoms of his feet, though he couldn’t feel the pain yet.

Daivad had barely taken a breath before Kure was bursting from the debris, already throwing that harpoon Daivad’s way. But the broken earth of the crater Daivad had created was all too easy to mold with his movements, and as Daivad braced both forearms before him, the ground rose to shield him. The moment he heard the soft sound of the harpoon burying itself in his earthen cover, Daivad shoved, sending the whole block of earth rushing forward—

Only for Kure to launch himself over the top of it, cackling.

Tobei often complained that Daivad was good at everything—effortlessly good. He was convinced there was no skill Daivad couldn’t master if he was given a week and a challenge. He’d even once drunkenly admitted that he was careful never to leave Nani, his violin, lying around near Daivad, afraid if Daivad picked her up he would play better than Tobei.

But Tobei was wrong. Daivad had only ever really been good at one thing. This was it.

Daivad was completely in himself as he side-stepped Kure’s attack and threw his magic into Kure’s side. No second-guessing, barely even any thinking when Kure sliced Daivad’s magic to ribbons and he had to change tactics. They traded quick blows, the same moves that the Colonel had drilled into Daivad from the day he’d arrived at the Farm. It had become more than second nature. Fighting. Killing.

Winning.

Daivad drove Kure into the side of the crater, and next thing he knew he was being flung over Kure’s shoulder, back up onto the destroyed street. He was back on his feet and Kure had leapt from the crater before Daivad had even slid to a stop. Kure yanked on the air and again that ripple of warped light flashed, and the harpoon came soaring right for Kure’s hand. The moment his black clawed fingers touched the metal, he was throwing it.

Daivad dove to the side, but still the harpoon’s magic snatched at his own. He felt it like a grater on his flesh. The moment Daivad hit the ground, he broke it, and a fissure snaked its way toward Kure, earning Daivad the time to get his feet back under him while the Selachian skipped away. They rushed each other.

This wasn’t like his slaughter at Duxon where Daivad was nothing more than a beast, ripping apart prey that had never stood a chance. If even for a moment Daivad dropped his guard, if he so much as blinked at the wrong time, Kure would tear him to shreds.

But the reverse was also true.

Kure slashed, and Daivad could feel the claws of magic that extended beyond the reach of Kure’s body. Daivad wrapped his own magic around his forearm and threw it up to block, then followed with a slash across Kure’s chest, spraying blood. Daivad danced backwards, letting Kure advance on him.

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“I said,” Kure snarled, veins bulging at his temples and neck, the wrinkles on his brow cutting so deep they became black lines down his forehead, “quit running!” And still, the grin. New blades erupting from Kure’s arm, and he swung, sending them flying.

Daivad clocked the diversion and kept his focus on Kure’s demented face as it rushed toward him. “Not running,” he growled, dodged two of the blades, then braced to take Kure’s attack from the front, letting the other two blades snatch harmlessly at his cloak and hood. “Just moving the fight.”

On instinct, Daivad ducked to the right, avoiding a face-full of claws by half an inch.

“Nowhere else to move it to!” Kure nodded at something over Daivad’s shoulder, but Daivad didn’t have to turn to know what he was talking about.

The gunshot told him all he needed to know. They had reached the barricade.

Several things happened at once. A burning burst across Daivad’s upper arm, and Daivad was aware of a faint cracking sound and a sudden release of the tie that kept the wolf’s head charm on his bicep. Unthinking, as if a deadly opponent weren’t standing right in front of him, Daivad clamped his hand on his cloak, right beneath the bullet wound—not to staunch the bleeding, but to keep the charm from falling and getting lost in the rubble. Luckily, at the same moment, Kure had turned his attention to the guard peering over the stacks of sandbags, stalls, and whatever else the Guard had piled together.

“Ay!” Kure shouted, “We’re busy!” He swung one arm, and a fin shot forward to embed itself in the guard’s neck.

Daivad managed to scoop the broken pieces of his charm into his hand but at the same moment he dropped them into his pocket, a rock dropped into his gut. Something was wrong. He sank his magic into the ground, but all he felt was the natural hum of the Earth. Ben.

In that moment of distraction, Kure had reached for his harpoon, and the whistling of it yanked Daivad’s attention back to the present. Again, just as harpoon touched hand, Kure threw it.

It was a risky move—Daivad didn’t know what this weapon was capable of, and last time he’d tried something like this Nyxabella’s crescent-moon blades had seared his hand—but Daivad needed to finish this now. Ben should have been following them, but he wasn’t. Daivad wrapped his hands in thick, tough magic like layer upon layer of leather, and snatched the harpoon out of the air.

Lightning struck him—or that’s what it felt like. His world went white and silent for one stopped heartbeat, and Daivad lost all sense of self. Then reality hit him like a train and he was slammed back into his body. Only his body felt wrong—his bones felt serrated, like they were tearing at his muscles just keeping him standing. Sharp pain shot through his teeth, through his brain. But—he looked down—the harpoon was still clenched in his hands.

Daivad’s ice-blue eyes met Kure’s black ones. And the grin slipped.

“How—?” Kure scrambled to call the harpoon back to him—

But Daivad was already moving, ignoring the way his body screamed. He swung the harpoon, sending that ripple of light down the chain back to Kure’s wrist, and it snapped tight, sending Kure flying, wrist-first. The furious, saw-like magic of the harpoon had shredded the leather-like magic Daivad had wrapped his hands in, and he felt it tearing into his palms now, but he held on, and when Kure slammed into the street, throwing cobblestones, Daivad turned and whipped the chain over his head again. Every nerve in Daivad’s body had been grated raw, so he didn’t even notice the burning bullet that buried itself in his thigh, or that clipped his left wrist. Kure tried to twist in midair, to land on his feet, but he couldn’t make it before he was crashing into a building two stories up, spitting blood. Again. Daivad jerked the harpoon. Kure swung his free arm as he soared once more over Daivad’s head, and fin-blades shot toward Daivad—but Daivad had already released the harpoon, and both the weapon and its master went soaring. Right for the barricade.

Kure’s magic, so overcharged and outraged, blew the barricade apart as his body slammed into it. Debris, body parts, and armor went flying. After just a moment, a furious, otherworldly roar burst from the rubble, muffled and warped. It seemed to echo and stretch through the air.

The rubble shifted, and a black-clawed hand emerged first, hauling after it a dirty-silver head and wicked grin. A grin that disappeared when Kure blinked the sand from his eyes to see that the street was empty. Daivad was gone.

Another roar tore out of Kure, and he swore, “I will see your blood black!”