"We've got it," Linda said as she came in the room.

  Ted and Nate had just finished up their last couple interviews earlier that day, though there was always the option for more down the line. Another circuit of live interviews was planned, where Nate would demonstrate on live TV his magical abilities. Under any other circumstances, people might claim it was faked, but with the pedigree of the law firm and the journalists backing them up, there wouldn't be any doubt.

  Linda had just returned with one final piece of the puzzle.

  "Got what?" asked Nate.

  "Gordon Merrill's recording." Linda held up her phone and tapped a button. Voices emitted from the small tinny speaker—voices of the long-dead and missing. Rowan Rhistler, Robert Harrison, Julian Black. Rachel DuValle. Other, less important voices.

  The town hall meeting. The "Emergence".

  "It only contains up until the moment that Rachel tells Hector to kill the electronics, but it provides hard evidence of your story," Linda went on. "We were able to get it from Merrill's cloud account with a court order."

  "Doesn't that show up somewhere?" Nate asked nervously.

  "It's a fairly trivial request, but yes, sooner or later someone will come asking about it. But we don't need to worry about that. I think we're ready."

  Nate got to his feet, as if he was about to run out the door right then. "Finally! When do we start?"

  "Not quite yet, Mr. Price. We start with the tease. Drum up the mystery a bit, reveal there's a survivor and hint at the truth. Give them a weekend for it to really sink in and to let speculation run wild. You won't go on camera until next week."

  "So when are we—"

  "Thursday. It all starts on Thursday."

  Nate nodded. As Linda turned around, he felt a pang of remorse. "Hey, Linda?"

  She stopped. "Yes, Mr. Price?"

  "Thanks."

  "For what?"

  "Everything. The last couple months. You've been amazing."

  "It's my job."

  "Yeah but… thanks."

  Linda nodded. "Was there anything else?"

  "Why didn't you ever ask about awakening? You're the only one I told about all the Scraps that are probably still floating around. You could go find one yourself, if you wanted."

  She shook her head. "It's not for me."

  "But… it's magic. Don't you want to be able to do magic?"

  "Not particularly."

  She sounded so sincere and calm. Nate couldn't understand it. "Do you think it's bad? Like everyone else did?"

  "No."

  "So why not?"

  She hesitated, considering her words. "I'm sure it's a miraculous thing, and it might do the world a lot of good. But I'm content with my life. I don't need it."

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  "...It's not about needing magic. There's just so much you can do. It's… there's so many possibilities. And no downsides! Why wouldn't anyone want something like that?"

  Linda shrugged. "It's not for me," she repeated.

  Nate gave up. "There's gonna be a lot of questions coming your way like that, I'd bet."

  "Starting Thursday, it's your show, Mr. Price. I won't be in the picture."

  "...Wait, you're leaving?"

  "My job is done. I have other clients to attend to. You'll be taken care of, don't worry. Our firm has a different branch that specializes in high profile clientele."

  "But this is where the big story is! We're gonna be famous. I thought you wanted to be there."

  "Heavens no. I don't like the spotlight."

  "But… what about the money?" Nate was grasping at straws by now, and he knew it.

  Linda smiled. "Don't forget, Mr. Price. You're still penniless. I'll get my share of the profits from our work."

  Nate shook his head. "You don't know what you're missing."

  "As you say." She put her hand on the doorknob. "You have my number if you need anything else. Good luck."

  She left, and Nate was alone in the apartment. It felt strangely empty, even though he'd been alone for most of the time he'd spent in the building. Only in the last couple weeks with the flurry of activity, the reporters, the research, the interviews had there been a single person besides himself and Linda. Now they were all gone, and Nate had a couple days to himself before the big debut.

  He turned on the TV and the game console, out of habit, but after scrolling through the list of games he couldn't pick a single one to play. He switched to TV, but not a single show caught his interest. He started a couple old favorites, but inevitably turned each one off after only a couple minutes.

  There was just too much anxiety. Too much anticipation. It was only two days away.

  Cinza.

  Nate had her phone number. He'd never bothered to try it again after the first couple days. With the cell tower destroyed, he'd never had a signal, and his phone died not too long after that. But they probably had one now.

  Despite all appearances, Cinza was actually the biggest techie in the whole town. Nate had always assumed he had the nicest computer, the best hardware, right on the cutting edge—but when he first visited their home? Cinza's rig put him to shame. Not only that, she actually knew every piece in and out. She'd obviously built it herself. Nate had just paid someone to do his.

  He was jealous.

  He was jealous of her knowledge, her following, her way of commanding attention from a crowd. He'd joined her group not out of any devotion, but because he wanted to know how she did it. Oh, he actually had a good time while he was there. Makoto was the coolest, and Nikki was fun to hang out with, and Ruby was so sexy he could die. But he'd always had his eye on Cinza, trying to figure her out.

  He could tell she'd never liked him. He basically forced his way into the group, paying his way in when they needed money and sticking around long past his welcome. He'd never quite gelled with the group, and it showed. It wasn't for lack of trying. He'd done all the rituals with them, he'd camped out in the cold forest under the stars more than a few times. He'd even worn the stupid robes.

  But he was never one of them. And when they were attacked in the forest, and he got separated from them, no one came looking for him. Helicopters went by overhead, ferrying away Cinza's favorites, but Nate Price? He was just that one rich kid no one wanted around. They were probably relieved he hadn't shown up.

  He finally found his way back to the camp days later, and saw them. They were hurt, they were recovering, sure—but still nobody was looking for him. His house was burned to the ground, the entire town was destroyed. "Where's Nate?" asked no one at all.

  So Nate stole, and he hid. He couldn't go back to civilization, not on his own. He'd seen Brian stalking the woods, summoning golems at the slightest noise, and only barely gotten away. Besides, even when he got there, Nate had no idea what to do. Was he supposed to just call the police? What if they took him away?

  Where was his supposed leader?

  Seeing Jerry's body in the forest finally drove him to act. When Nate saw the journals on Cinza's shelf, while she was out in the fields, he didn't hesitate. He grabbed the ones he thought were most important, and he ran. He ran until he finally saw civilization again, and he made a phone call.

  Nate stared at the phone in his hand, with half of Cinza's number already dialed. He could warn her it was coming, at least. Did he owe her that much?

  Or did she deserve to be blindsided?

  Nate turned off his phone. He sat back down on the couch, picked up a controller, and started a game. Ten minutes later, he'd forgotten all about Cinza, or what was coming on Thursday, or anything about Rallsburg. All he could think about was finally, finally being able to live in a real house again, with real food and new clothes and a shower that didn't take five minutes to warm up.

  Nate Price was headed for stardom, exactly where he belonged.