Sunlight sliced through Asher’s eyes as he stumbled back into the human world. He had stepped into the ruined remains of Dalvany, the silence broken only by the mumbles of conversation echoing out from the Town Square ahead. He’d stepped into a wide street made wider by the destruction, the breeze light and chilly, a welcome relief compared to the emptiness of everything else. The other humans were pushing forward ahead, and Asher rushed after them.

The ashen line appeared ahead, but there was no sand on the other side of it now. Instead the cobblestone had returned, covered in the littered remains of market awnings and wooden beams. Standing to one side, ushering people across, was Gershwin. Asher quickened his pace, but everything ached. The injury on his arm was bleeding freely, and movement ached all over, stiffening his joints and throwing wave after wave of dizziness pounding through his head. He pushed on, but each step threatened to send him over.

Gershwin noticed him as the last group crossed the line, and her eyes widened. She shouted something he couldn’t hear, and Asher turned at the same moment Navarre punched him hard in the face.

Pain exploded through his skull as he slammed into the ground, rock and rubble stabbing into already burning wounds, and he shook the white spots from his eyes as Navarre’s boots passed in front of his head.

‘You hypocritical piece of shit!’ Navarre’s boot drove into his ribs, and Asher cried out as a sharp pain drove into his lungs, robbing him of breath. His fingers curled into the gaps in the rubble, desperately pulling forward, aware of Gershwin yelling out, though he couldn’t hear her. Another kick to his side knocked his grip away and rolled him over, where Navarre’s face hovered over his, rage scrunching his features.

‘You really stood there, all mighty and proud, judging me for my choices when you made the exact same one?’ Navarre demanded. ‘You judged me? You’re a fucking witch!’

‘No—’ Asher’s pitiful gasp cut off as Navarre knelt and grabbed Asher’s collar, pulling him up until they were face to face.

‘You’ve been a liar since you got here,’ Navarre growled. ‘But how long before? How long have you stood there, with your little monster friends, while we tried to fix the mess your kind started?’

Asher tried to pry the man’s hands away, but his grip was weak and breathing stabbed at his lungs. ‘That’s not what this is,’ he gasped. ‘Stop—’

‘Why should I believe a fucking word you say?’ Navarre spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I remember the last ones you told me. Not anyone, not ever. Remember that one? But maybe I was in the wrong. I was in the wrong to think a stupid little dock boy would ever remember he’s nothing special.’

Asher managed to pry Navarre’s hands off him, and he fell back into the dirt as the other man lunged for his neck. Asher drove his knee into Navarre’s groin, making him recoil with a shout, before he locked his hands together and threw them hard and wide. Blinding pain shot through his hands as Navarre’s head snapped to the side, stunning him enough for Asher to scramble back out of his grip.

Navarre whipped around to face him again, and Asher screamed.

The side of Navarre’s face had shattered, caving in to turn his cheek and jaw concave, with thick black cracks snaking across his nose and face, chipped pieces falling away as he glared. One of his eyes had burst at the impact, but there was still an iris there, hovering in one of the bigger rivets, still fixed on him. Navarre lunged forward and grabbed Asher’s leg, and Asher’s hand snatched at empty air, not finding the pouch he’d already thrown away.

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‘Now’s the time for truth, Asher,’ Navarre’s voice scraped against the broken remains of his mouth, his teeth turned to stone and some dangling from a still fleshy gum. ‘Admit it. You did this because it’s the only way to win. The only way to fight back. Or are you going to be the kind of witch that hoards it all to himself? You can’t keep everything to yourself, Asher, not forever.’

Asher grabbed a rock by his hand and tossed it hard, sending another wave of cracks through Navarre’s head, this time causing a large chunk of hair to fall out. He scrambled back, but Navarre recovered fast, throwing himself forward and grabbing Asher’s bad leg with clawed hands, before twisting it hard to the side.

Asher screamed as pain tore through his ankle, the unmistakable crack of bone tearing through his ears as every pain he’d felt in the last few weeks doubled and shot up his leg, blinding him and sending his thoughts to scatter. He could only try and breathe through it as Navarre hovered over him again.

‘You’re not going any—’

His face exploded.

The rifle shot cracked through the air, and Asher turned to see Sara standing a few paces behind him, levelling another shot. Her hands were shaking, but her expression was stern and angry. ‘Get away from him,’ she growled.

‘Come on, boy, up.’ Iain rushed out from behind her and grabbed Asher’s shoulders, hauling him upright. Asher cried out as another wave of pain tore through his ankle, but Iain held firm, dragging him backwards, ignoring his whimpers. Navarre lunged again, and the rifle cracked another shot, sending him back. Sara backed up with them, quickly fumbling another bullet into the neck.

Navarre pulled himself up, then crumbled again as a large black crow slammed into his head, driving large claws across his face. As he fell, Hadley stepped up behind him. Both Iain and Sara froze.

‘I knew you’d break,’ Hadley said. ‘You’re staying here, demon.’

‘No,’ Iain breathed.

Hadley glanced up then, flicking one hand to the side as she stepped around Navarre and approached them. Two more crows descended on Navarre, clawing and pecking at him, pinning him down. Iain’s grip tightened on Asher’s arm, and Sara sucked in a breath next to him.

‘You’re coming back,’ Asher mumbled. He felt stupid, delirious. Navarre was a Fienta. He was a monster. It wasn’t real.

Hadley shook her head. ‘I can’t come back, and I know that now,’ she said. ‘But that’s okay.’ She turned to Iain and Sara, and her face fell, age showing in her expression as she suddenly grew fearful. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I made a horrible decision, and it hurt both of you. I wish I could show you how much I regret that.’

‘I should have helped you,’ Sara muttered. ‘I should have—’

‘You’ve done everything you could, and people are alive because of it,’ Hadley said. She nodded to Asher, then turned to Iain. ‘I love you. You know that, but hear it now because I need to say it. I will always love you, Iain. Don’t punish yourself for my passing.’

Iain’s grip tightened still, but he said nothing.

‘Go now,’ Hadley said. ‘The Gate is closing. I’ll take care of this one.’

With that, she swept back around to Navarre, where her birds were still attacking him. Asher watched as the monster beneath the feathers swiped and threw his arms around, trying to drive them off. It wasn’t Navarre. Not anymore. Corruption had turned him to something else, something that was never his friend, never someone he could look at and see respect. Navarre was gone. Perhaps he had been this whole time.

Iain dragged him back over the ashen line, dropping him unceremoniously onto the cobblestones before rushing back to the line and forcing himself back again, as though he was thinking about crossing it. Sara knelt down next to him, watching the scene beyond. Asher found himself watching with her. Not at Hadley, who once again was the mysterious woman with the birds, commanding the space of demons and evil, but at the evil he had tried to save.

Navarre was gone. This time, forever. Sara had said it herself, that a Fienta crossed the line in a way that could never be reversed, had been corrupted because they broke the very laws of nature.

Asher watched as Navarre was dragged back into the ruins and out of sight, and felt an odd sense of relief before he felt nothing at all.