Theo froze.

“Theo?”

The ground was almost vibrating beneath their feet.

“Theo, hey.”

He-

“Theo!” He blinked, realising that Drew had put one large hand on his shoulder, and was shaking him. He didn’t know if he hadn’t noticed because he barely felt in control of his body, or the way the floor was continuing to move in a rather concerning manner.

Drew looked at him, concern in his eyes, panic in his body language that was barely restrained. “It’s been rough, but we need to move now. Before we get buried.”

Theo managed a slow nod, and the group resumed their march, more frantic (if not actually any faster) than before.

Theo ran through his mental map of the estate as they went, counting each room and corridor they made it through. The spy had been deep inside, and they had many long corridors to go.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

Theo hoped everyone was safe. He hoped Finn and Rowena especially were safe, seeing as nobody knew where they were. He shoved down thoughts of finding their corpses, hidden unceremoniously under a table, limp and contorted in agony.

No. The spies hadn’t used lethal force, he told himself.

Then again, a voice whispered, the one they encountered wasn’t exactly a pacifist.

Eleven.

Ten.

The shaking increased. Theo and Drew looked at each other.

Bruce let out a surprisingly shrill sound as Drew seated him like a child riding their father, as Theo simultaneously hefted Jenny onto his shoulder, right arm wrapped protectively around her middle. They nodded at each other, and ran.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

He absentmindedly wondered what happened to the food in the rest area.

Six.

Five.

There was a sudden lurch, as the world tilted on its axis.

Theo let out a wheeze of pain as they were all thrown to the ground, as what was once flat was now the steep, smooth surface of an icy mountain. They tumbled as much as they slid down the surface, Jenny’s unmoving figure doing a very good impression of a log rolling down a waterfall.

For the first time that night, Theo wondered if this was where they would die. Not because of any spy, but because a mine’s worth of stone fell on their heads, minutes away from safety.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

He closed his eyes, and before he could decide whether or not he would pray for a painless death or a sliver of hope, the world lurched again…and then the shaking stopped.

He opened his eyes, grabbed Jenny, and ran as fast as he could, Drew following close behind with Bruce in a bridal carry (which, in any other situation, would have been commented on).

Four, three, two, one, freedom.

They burst through the doors, to silence. Theo’s panting and beating heart were the only things he could hear.

It was a complex silence, filled with anger and rage, smouldering impotent anguish.

The moat was empty of water. The street outside was full.

As Theo looked upon the outside of the Flake manor, he understood why.

An entire section of the foundation was clear, filled with ice. There were cracks lining the entire exterior, wounds gouging deep into the stone. Something had torn through the estate, weakening its structure and almost causing it to collapse.

It shimmered in the moonlight, wisps of condensation misting off as ice grew from its surface like crystals.

But those were mere stars in front of the blazing sun hovering above. It was a corona of silver, blinding and jagged.

After his eyes adjusted, he realised that it wasn’t the moon; it was Reginald Flake. His entire body was encased in a fractal shape of ice, eyes and hands bright and duplicated through liquid mirrors as he flew overhead, searching for something.

More wizards were around, some shoring up the foundation, others flying around on patrol. A good portion of them were wearing torn and tattered ball gowns and suits.

“Thank Saya you’re safe!” Theo’s attention returned to what was in front of him, as he heard Finn call out to him. “Get them medical attention. That’s the last of us.”

A knot of anxiety undid itself, as he saw not only Fin, but Rowena safe. As people rushed them, Theo did a headcount. Everyone had made it.

And then he realised there were far, far more people than were at or helping with the ball, many of whom were not dressed for any weather besides being cozy by a fireplace or in bed. A crowd had come to see the commotion, and it wasn’t simply those in the Housing Districts. Theo recognised every teacher at the College of Song (bar Sparrow), Chrys, Grant, and everyone he knew from the other colleges.

Kevin and Francis were two of the ones rushing up to them, gently pulling Jenny out of his grasp. He let go, watching numbly as they placed her on the ground and started praying.

“Hey.” Finn wrapped him in a hug, patting him on the back as he held on a little longer than normal. “Gave us a scare. Any longer and we would have sent a rescue party.” He tried to chuckle, but both of them knew it was forced.

Rowena approached next, and Theo couldn’t help but notice how her hand brushed Finn’s as she walked by.

“Thank you for taking the lead while I was,” her cheeks coloured slightly, “distracted. It was my responsibility, and I neglected my duty.”

Theo nodded, adrenaline finally fading from his veins, as he sat gingerly down at the entrance to the estate, lay back, and stared up at an empty sky. “S’okay.”

---

Everyone was safe.

Theo recounted everything that had happened to them, the spy, the escape.

Eleanor looked pleased as the mention of Hymn of Healing, although it could have just been relief (or pride).

He handed over the severed hand and toxic needle to Mercy of Death, who was surprised and grateful. Having a sample of the toxin itself would help with helping those affected, and apparently priests of Fet could divine with a sample of flesh from the target.

The spies had planted some sort of explosive device all around the manor, aiming to destabilise it and kill everyone inside. They had only gotten halfway through the plan before Reginald appeared in his nightgown and mitigated their efforts.

Everett was sketching down whatever anyone could remember of the spies they had counted, and Theo added his Tome of Memories-assisted input. Unfortunately they had all escaped; fortunately, there were now incredibly accurate wanted posters that would soon be distributed.

Talk of responsibility and blame and how they had infiltrated was briefly touched upon before everyone decided that would be better discussed another night.

They had leads on the spies and nobody died. In the grand scheme of things this was a victory.

Even so, as he stared blankly at the devastation, the aftermath of a joyous night shot out of the sky and drowned under a full moon, the lost looks that spread like plague, Theo had the feeling that if this was a victory, it was a rather hollow one.