Chapter 30: The Louisville Slugger and the Traitor's Daughter
The van's engine screamed like a wounded animal as Mandy slammed the brakes. Gravel sprayed. The smell of burning rubber mixed with something worse—ozone and copper and the electric tang of magic being weaponized.
They'd barely stopped moving before the first shockwave hit.
The van rocked on its axles. Everyone inside grabbed for something—anything—as the windows rattled and the world outside turned white for half a second.
"What the fuck was that?" Ben yelled.
Nobody answered. They were too busy staring.
The Living Mountain rose from the Florida flatlands like a tumor on the horizon—black stone shot through with veins of sickly green light, its peak split open in a permanent scream. The cave mouth gaped wide, and from it poured things that shouldn't exist.
Wargs with red eyes. Humanoid shapes twisted into impossible angles. Creatures that might have been human once, before someone branded them with a pi symbol and turned them into puppets.
The Branded.
They streamed out of the mountain in waves, their movements jerky and wrong, like marionettes whose strings were being pulled by someone who didn't quite understand how joints worked.
Above it all, Flamewing circled.
The she-dragon was enormous—her wingspan blotted out the morning sun, her scales shimmered like molten bronze, and every time she beat her wings, the ground shook. Yukio sat astride her back, her cane strapped to the saddle, her silver-streaked hair whipping in the wind.
Yukio raised one hand.
Flamewing opened her mouth.
Fire poured down like the wrath of a god.
The front line of Branded—if you could call it a line, if you could call them anything but a screaming horde—disintegrated. The wargs howled. The twisted humanoids shrieked. The things that had once been mages tried to raise shields, but dragonfire didn't care about shields.
It didn't care about anything.
"Jesus Christ," Stacy breathed.
She was in the back of the van with Rick, her 9mm already drawn, her knuckles white around the grip. Rick had his arm around her shoulders. His other hand was pressed flat against his chest, where his shard glowed through his shirt like a second heartbeat.
"She's buying us time," Mandy said. "Move."
---
They piled out of the van.
The air hit them like a wall—hot and wet and charged with so much magic it made their teeth ache. Mandy's hair stood on end. Jess's Golden Wand stun pistol crackled with static. Calista's shard blazed brighter, responding to the chaos around it.
Jan stood at the center of it all.
Her red braid had come loose. Her hair whipped around her face like flames. She had one hand pressed to her temple and the other raised toward the sky, and she was speaking—not words, exactly, but something older, something that made the air ripple and the ground tremble.
Her magic exploded outward in a shockwave that sent three Branded flying backward.
She didn't even look at them.
Her phone was pressed to her ear.
"Stay back!" she shouted into it. "Call Aunt Calli—tell her we need every Golden Wand in Florida! No, I don't care if she's in a meeting! Tell her the mountain's awake and the Branded are out and we're about to—"
She ducked as a warg lunged at her.
Cameron appeared out of nowhere—one second he wasn't there, the next he was, his fist wrapped in that blunt-force disruption field, and the warg's head snapped sideways with a crack that echoed off the mountain.
"I've got you," he said.
"I know you do." Jan kissed him on the cheek without missing a beat. "Now get back to your sniper position before I have to save your ass again."
"Love you too."
He vanished back into the chaos.
---
Eddie Murphy's voice cut through everything.
It came from speakers mounted on the mountain's face—speakers that shouldn't exist, because the mountain shouldn't exist, because Florida was flat, everyone knew that—and it was amplified a thousand times over until it rattled bones and made ears bleed.
"RELEASE THE BRANDED."
The ground shook.
The horde doubled.
And Kim grabbed Mandy's arm.
Her grip was iron. Her hazel eyes burned with a focus that Mandy had never seen before—not in Kim, not in anyone. This was the face of a woman who had decided something and would see it through or die trying.
"That's not our problem," Kim said.
She pointed.
Carved into the mountain's eastern flank, half-hidden behind a curtain of hanging moss and shadows that seemed to breathe, was a service entrance. Narrow. Unassuming. The kind of thing you'd miss if you weren't looking for it.
"That is."
---
They moved as a unit.
Kim took point, her curved sword already drawn, her bare feet silent on the stone. Behind her came Mandy, Beth, Calista, Rick, Jess, Ben, Mai, Stacy.
They filed through the narrow entrance one by one. The moss brushed against their faces like cold fingers. The darkness swallowed them whole.
Inside, the tunnel was wet.
Not damp. Wet. Water dripped from the ceiling in a steady rhythm, and the walls glistened with something that wasn't quite water—something thicker, warmer, pulsing with a sickly green light that seemed to breathe in time with the mountain's heartbeat.
Mandy pressed her hand to the wall.
The stone was warm. Alive.
"It's organic," she whispered.
"Everything's organic if you look close enough," Felicity murmured through an ear comm. "Even rocks have bacteria. Even rocks—"
"Flick."
"Sorry."
They kept moving.
---
The voice came from the shadows.
"Kim."
Kim stopped. Her sword came up.
Maryam stepped out of an alcove—one of dozens that lined the tunnel, each one barely wide enough for a person to fit. Her face was smeared with grime and blood. Her short dark hair was plastered to her forehead. Her eyes were bright with something that looked a lot like adrenaline and a little like terror.
Behind her emerged Cody and Amanda.
Both of them looked worse than Maryam. Cody had a black eye and a split lip. Amanda's blonde hair was tangled, her blue eyes hollowed out by exhaustion. They both moved like people who'd been running on fear and coffee for days.
"We've got maybe ten minutes before they realize we're not on their side," Maryam said.
"Ten minutes?" Kim's voice was calm. "That's generous."
"I'm an optimist." Maryam's eyes swept over the group—Jess, Ben, Mai, Stacy, Rick, Beth, Calista, Mandy. "You brought everyone."
"We brought everyone who matters."
"Mandy." Cody's voice cracked. "I—"
"Not now." Mandy stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder. "Whatever you're about to apologize for, don't. We're here. We're doing this. That's all that matters."
Cody nodded.
His eyes were wet.
Amanda grabbed his hand and squeezed.
---
Kim didn't waste time.
"We need to move. Mom and Dad are two levels down. The vault is deeper." She looked at Maryam. "You said you broke Dad's nose."
"I did."
"And split Mom's lip."
"Yes."
"Holy shit, Maryam."
"I had to make it look real!" Maryam's voice cracked. "They were watching. They were always watching. I had to—"
"I know." Kim's voice softened. "I know. You did good."
Maryam's jaw tightened.
"Dad looked so proud," she whispered. "When I hit him. He looked so proud."
"He's our father. He's proud of everything we do." Kim turned. "Let's go."
---
Down.
The stairs spiraled into the earth, each step narrower than the last. The walls pressed in. The green glow grew brighter, sicker, pulsing with a rhythm that was almost hypnotic.
Beth had her camera out. She was filming everything—the way the light shifted, the way the stone seemed to sweat, the way the shadows moved like they were alive.
"For documentation," she whispered when Mandy looked at her.
"For posterity."
"Same thing."
They descended for what felt like hours.
The air grew colder. Thicker. The smell of rot and old blood settled in Mandy's nose and refused to leave. She could hear things in the dark—whispers, screams, the distant clang of metal on metal.
"Are those...?" Rick started.
"Prisoners," Kim said. "The mountain feeds on magic. The deeper you go, the more it drains."
"Mom and Dad—"
"They're strong." Kim's voice didn't waver. "They'll hold."
---
They emerged into a wide chamber.
Mandy's first thought was that it looked like a cathedral. A cathedral built by something that hated beauty.
The ceiling arched high overhead, lost in shadow. Pillars of black stone rose from the floor, carved with symbols that hurt to look at. And at the center of it all, on their knees, hands bound behind their backs, faces bruised but eyes defiant—
Hank and Fatima.
A dozen Consortium agents stood in a semicircle around them. Dark tactical gear. Weapons raised. Faces hidden behind masks.
At the front of the group, Inez Murphy stood with her arms crossed.
She looked exactly like Mandy had imagined—severe, sharp, every inch the woman who had raised Cody and then thrown him away because he didn't hate the right things. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Her eyes were cold.
Beside her, Eddie Murphy held a controller in one hand.
His thumb hovered over a button.
Outside, the Branded howled.
"Maryam," Eddie said.
His voice dripped with mockery. With delight. With the kind of smug satisfaction that made Mandy want to punch him in his bookish face.
"Did you really think we believed your little performance?" He stepped forward, the controller still raised. "The tears. The rage. The 'I hate my family' speech." He laughed. "Even breaking your father's nose. Splitting your mother's lip. That was a nice touch, I'll give you that."
He stopped a few feet away from his mother.
"But we've been watching you since the moment you walked in. Every tear. Every word. Every little performance."
Inez turned her cold gaze to Cody.
"And you." Her voice was ice. "My son. The disappointment who chose magic over his own blood."
Cody flinched.
Mandy saw it—the way his shoulders curled inward, the way his eyes dropped to the floor. For a second, he looked like a little boy. A little boy who just wanted his mother to love him.
"I knew you'd come crawling back," Inez continued. "But I didn't think you'd bring your little friends."
Maryam's jaw tightened.
Her hands curled into fists.
And Kim—calm, collected, beautiful Kim with her hazel eyes and her perfect posture—reached into her jacket.
She pulled out the Louisville Slugger.
The bat with the sheet of Green Moon prayers wrapped around its handle. The bat Maryam had left with her before the infiltration. The bat that had been a joke between sisters, a symbol of everything they were to each other.
Kim tossed it.
Maryam caught it one-handed.
Hank looked up at his daughters.
Blood trickled from his split lip. His nose was swollen. One eye was almost swollen shut. But his face broke into a grin—a proud, fierce, unrepentant grin.
"That's my girls," he said.
Maryam charged.
---
The chamber erupted.
Kim moved like water—her curved sword flashing, her body twisting, her kicks landing with precision. She parried a rifle butt, spun, drove her elbow into an agent's throat, and kicked another into the wall hard enough to crack stone.
Cody tackled a guard.
Amanda swung a stolen stun baton.
Stacy raised her 9mm and fired twice—two agents dropped, clutching their legs.
Ben and Mai moved together like they'd been fighting side by side for years—Ben's strength, Mai's agility, a one-two punch that sent a masked agent sprawling.
Jess's Golden Wand stun pistol crackled.
She fired.
An agent went down.
Mandy grabbed Beth and pulled her behind a pillar.
"Stay—"
"I'm filming!"
"Beth!"
"I'm filming, Mandy, this is important—"
Calista stepped forward.
Her shard blazed. Her silver hair rose around her head like a halo of light. Her golden eyes burned.
And she spoke.
One word.
A word that wasn't a word—a sound that was older than language, older than humanity, older than anything that had ever walked the earth.
Fire erupted from her hands.
It wasn't like Flamewing's fire. It wasn't like anything Mandy had ever seen. It was white-hot and pure and it moved like it was alive, like it was hunting, and it slammed into the agents on the left side of the chamber and sent them flying.
Inez Murphy screamed.
Not in pain. In rage.
"You dare—"
Kim parried a rifle butt.
Kicked an agent into the wall.
Yelled over her shoulder.
"Mandy! Take Beth, Calista, and Rick—find the vault! We'll hold them here!"
Mandy didn't hesitate.
She grabbed Beth's arm. Grabbed Rick's. Nodded at Calista.
"Move!"
They ran.
---
The tunnel beyond the chamber was narrow and dark and it sloped downward at an angle that made Mandy's knees ache. The green glow was brighter here—pulsing, throbbing, like the mountain had a heartbeat and they were getting close to it.
"How much further?" Beth gasped.
"I don't know!"
"Great!"
"Shut up and run!"
Rick's shard was glowing so bright now that it cast shadows on the walls. Calista's was doing the same—the two of them together, walking beacons in the dark.
"The vault," Rick said. "It's close. I can feel it."
"Feel it how?"
"Like... like something's calling me. Like something's been calling me my whole life and I just didn't know how to listen."
Mandy's own shard—the one she'd been carrying since the shard-glamour night, the one that had bonded to her—pulsed against her chest.
She felt it too.
Something ahead. Something waiting.
The tunnel opened.
They stumbled into a chamber—smaller than the last, but somehow more vast. The walls were covered in symbols. The floor was a mosaic of black and green stone. And at the center, on a raised dais, was a door.
It wasn't a door.
It was a wound in the world. A tear in reality. A gap in the fabric of everything, held open by four chains of light that stretched from the corners of the chamber to the tear itself.
Beyond the tear, Mandy could see something.
The Shine.
It was beautiful. It was terrible. It was everything she'd ever wanted and everything she'd ever feared, all at once, and it was fading.
"Fuck," Beth whispered.
"Yeah," Mandy agreed.
"The chains—"
"They're breaking."
Rick stepped forward.
His shard blazed.
Calista stepped forward.
Her shard blazed.
Mandy felt her own shard pulse.
Beth's shard was last, and she did the impossible as far as her siblings know: she lowered her camera, her eyes fixed on the tear.
"We have to fix it," Rick said. "The chains. We have to—"
A voice cut through the chamber.
"No."
They turned.
Inez Murphy stood in the tunnel entrance.
Her bun had come loose. Her face was smeared with blood—not hers. She held a gun in one hand. A knife in the other.
And her eyes were fixed on the tear.
"You're not going to fix anything," she said. "You're going to stand there and watch while I destroy it."
The gun in Inez's hand didn't waver.
"That's a nice speech," Beth said, her camera still up. "Very dramatic. You rehearse it in the mirror?"
Mandy wanted to grab her sister and shake her. Wanted to scream at her to run. But Beth was already moving—slowly, deliberately—positioning herself between Inez and the tear.
"I've been rehearsing it for thirty years." Inez stepped closer. The tunnel behind her was silent now. The sounds of fighting had faded to a distant rumble. "Every day. Every night. Every time I looked at my son and saw what magic had done to him."
"Magic didn't do anything to Cody," Rick said. "He made a choice."
"He made the wrong one."
"According to who?"
"According to me." Inez's eyes blazed. "I'm his mother. I know what's best for him."
"You threw him out."
"I tried to save him!"
The gun shook in her hand.
Calista moved.
Not fast—not aggressive. Just a step forward, her silver hair still floating around her head, her golden eyes soft. She held up both hands, palms out.
"You're afraid," Calista said.
"I'm not afraid of anything."
"You're afraid of losing him. You already lost him, and you don't know how to get him back, so you're going to destroy the thing that took him from you." Calista's voice was gentle. Almost kind. "But it didn't take him. He walked away. Because you couldn't love him the way he needed to be loved."
Inez's face twisted.
"You don't know anything about my son."
"I know he's kind. I know he's brave. I know he loves Amanda more than he's ever loved anyone, and that terrifies you, because it means he's capable of love you can't control."
"I—"
"You're not here to destroy the Shine." Calista took another step. "You're here to destroy yourself. Because if you can't have Cody, you don't want anyone to have anything."
The gun wavered.
Mandy saw her opening.
She didn't take it.
Instead, she stepped up beside Calista. Then Rick. Then Beth—her camera lowered now, her eyes bright with something that wasn't fear.
"We're not your enemies," Mandy said.
"You're magic users."
"We're people. Messy, complicated, stupid people who make mistakes and hurt each other and keep trying anyway." Mandy's voice cracked. "You could be one of us. You could put down the gun and walk away and try to be better. But you won't. Because you'd rather be right than happy."
The gun dropped.
Inez's arm fell to her side.
For a moment, nobody moved. The Shine pulsed beyond the tear. The chains flickered.
Then Inez laughed.
It was a horrible sound—dry, broken, like something that had forgotten how to be human.
"You think this ends with me surrendering?" She looked up. Her eyes were wet. "You think there's a version of this where everyone walks away?"
"I hope so," Mandy said.
"Hope." Inez spat the word. "Hope is what got us here. Hope that magic could be good. Hope that people could be trusted. Hope that my son—"
She raised the gun.
Not at Mandy. Not at Calista. Not at any of them.
At the chains.
"No!" Rick lunged.
The gun fired.
---
Back at the beach house, Casey was on the phone.
She stood naked in the middle of the living room, her hair still wet from the shower, her skin still flushed from what she and Mike and Judy had just finished doing. Her left hand held the phone to her ear. Her right hand was pressed flat against the kitchen counter.
"Send everyone," she said. "I don't care if they're in the middle of something. I don't care if they're retired. I don't care if they're dead. Wake them up."
Aunt Calli's voice crackled through the speaker.
"I'll send every active Wand in Florida. And I'll call in favors from the Fair Bargain and the Glorious Kaboom."
"Tell them to bring explosives."
"You always say that."
"Because it's always true." Casey's voice cracked. "They're at the mountain, Aunt Calli. All of them. My kids. Jan. Shiv. Everyone."
A pause.
"I'll rally the Orders," Aunt Calli said. "But Casey—whatever's in that vault, the prophecy says it could save the world or destroy it. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
"Do you?"
Casey closed her eyes.
"I've been married to Mike for twenty years and friends with Jan for longer than that," she said. "I've never understood anything. I just show up and try to help."
---
Mike was on the other side of the room.
He had his pants on now—sort of. They were unbuttoned, unzipped, hanging off his hips like he'd given up halfway through getting dressed. His phone was pressed to his ear and his free hand was combing through his hair.
"Aaron, I'm not asking you to fix the whole Mountain," he said. "I'm asking you to call the Governor of Florida and tell him to send backup."
"I can do that," Aaron said. "Fingers crossed"
"Good. Great. Also—the Branded. There are hundreds of them. Maybe thousands."
"What's a Branded?"
"Magical prisoners. Mind-controlled. Attack dogs." Mike swallowed. "They're people, Aaron. Most of them. They used to be people."
A heavy silence.
"I'll call the Guard," Aaron said. "No promises. But I'll call."
"Thank you."
"Mike—"
"Yeah?"
"Your kids do this every other Tuesday. They'll be fine."
Mike laughed. It didn't sound right. "Every other Tuesday is what I keep telling myself."
---
Mike hung up first. Then Casey.
They stood across the room from each other, two people who had been in love since before some of the people they were worried about had been born.
"The Shine," Casey said.
"I know."
"It could save the world."
"I know."
"Or destroy it."
Mike nodded. Then he crossed the room. He took the phone out of Casey's hand, set it on the counter, and pulled her into his arms. She was still naked. He was still half-dressed. Neither of them cared.
"We raised good kids," he said.
"We did."
"They'll make the right choice."
Casey pressed her face into his shoulder.
"You don't know that."
"No." Mike kissed the top of her head. "But I believe it."
---
Katrina had been standing in the hallway for the last two minutes.
She'd heard everything. The phone calls. The worry. The fear. She'd watched Mike and Casey hold each other like the world was ending, and she'd felt something twist in her chest—something that wasn't jealousy, exactly, but wasn't not jealousy either.
She'd spent thirty years in a timeless void.
She'd lost everything. Everyone. She'd loved Mark and lost him to prison, and she'd built a new life here in Miami, teaching ballet to children and sleeping in a room that still smelled like someone else's perfume. She was happy—really, genuinely happy, most days. She loved this family. She loved these people. She loved the way Mike still got awkward around her sometimes, like he wasn't sure how to treat the woman who looked nineteen but was actually old enough to be his mother.
She loved the way Casey hugged her every morning without being asked.
And right now, watching them stand there clutching each other, she knew exactly what she needed to do.
She stepped into the room.
"Mike. Casey."
They looked up.
"I'm nervous," Katrina said.
Casey blinked. "What?"
"I'm nervous about... everything. About today. About the Mountain. About what's going to happen." She crossed the room. Her hands were shaking. She didn't stop. "Could you help me feel better?"
"Katrina—"
She kissed Casey.
It was awkward at first—too fast, too desperate, teeth clicking against lips. Then Casey made a soft sound and her mouth opened and her hands came up to cup Katrina's face, and the kiss shifted into something else. Something slower.
Katrina pulled back.
Her eyes were bright. Her cheeks were flushed.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I just—I needed—"
"It's okay." Casey stroked her hair back. "It's okay."
"I don't want to be alone right now."
"You're not alone."
Mike had moved to stand beside them. He looked at Casey. She looked at him. Some silent communication passed between them—the kind of communication that came from twenty years of marriage and a whole lot of weirdness.
Casey nodded.
Mike put his hand on Katrina's shoulder.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go back to the bedroom."
---
Judy was still in bed.
She was sprawled across the sheets like a cat in sunlight, one arm behind her head, her blonde hair spread out on the pillowcase. She was completely naked. The silk dress she'd been wearing earlier was crumpled on the floor.
She watched them come in.
"Interesting," she said.
"Don't start," Casey warned.
"I'm not starting anything. I'm just observing." Judy propped herself up on one elbow. "You've been back here for three hours. Didn't you hear the phone ring?"
Casey froze.
"What?"
"The phone. It rang." Judy yawned. "I answered it. Jan's at the mountain. The Consortium knows they're there."
"You didn't tell us?"
"You were busy." She looked at Katrina. Then at Mike. Then back at Casey. "You're still busy. I can tell."
"Judy—"
"I'm not complaining." Judy shifted off the bed. "I'm joining."
---
Katrina stripped first.
She did it fast, like she was afraid she'd lose her nerve. Her black dress hit the floor. Her bra followed. Her underwear. She stood there in the middle of the room, her long dark hair loose around her shoulders, her body thin and pale and elegant.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she said.
"Nobody does," Casey said.
"Good."
She reached out. One hand found Casey's breasts—the heavy, warm weight of them, the nipples already hard. The other hand found Mike's cock—already half-hard, already twitching.
"I want—"
"What do you want?"
"Both of you."
Mike kissed her neck. Casey kissed her mouth.
They fell onto the bed.
---
Judy joined them after a minute of watching from the edge of the mattress.
She crawled across the sheets on all fours, nudging Katrina onto her back, pressing her mouth to the hollow of the younger woman's throat. Katrina gasped. Her hips bucked.
Casey stretched out beside them, one hand working between her own thighs.
Mike knelt between Katrina's legs.
"You sure?" he asked.
"Michael." Judy's voice was sharp. "She just told you what she wants. Stop asking."
Mike looked at Katrina.
She was crying.
Not the bad kind—the kind that came with good sex, with feeling too much, with being held when you'd forgotten what being held felt like. Tears streamed down her face and she was smiling.
"Yes," she said. "Please."
He slid inside her.
---
When it was over—really over, after Katrina came twice and Casey came once and Judy rode Mike's face until her thighs gave out—they lay tangled together in the damp sheets.
Katrina spoke first.
"I was lying."
Mike turned his head.
"What?"
"I wasn't nervous." Katrina laughed. "Okay, I was a little nervous. But mostly I just—" She sat up. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were clear. "I wanted to keep you distracted."
Casey frowned.
"Distracted from what?"
"From the mountain." Katrina pulled her knees to her chest. "You couldn't have done anything if you'd been out there. You don't have powers. You don't have training. You'd just be targets." Her voice was gentle. "But Mandy and the others—they need to focus. They need to make their choice without worrying about you. So I kept you here. I came up with a reason. I followed through."
Mike stared at her.
"That's—"
"Manipulative?" Katrina shrugged. "Maybe. But it worked."
Before either of them could object further, Judy moved.
She crawled across the bed and took Mike's cock into her mouth—soft, wet, without any pretense of foreplay. Mike's breath caught in his throat.
Katrina retrieved something from the floor.
A harness. The strap-on she'd thrown there earlier, when she'd stripped. She slid it on, her hands moving with the ease of long practice, and then she was behind Casey, her hips pressed against Casey's ass.
Casey laughed.
"You planned this," she said.
"I planned this."
"You're a menace."
"I know."
Katrina slid the strap-on inside her.
Casey's laugh turned into a groan.
---
Back at the Living Mountain, the gunshot echoed.
Rick hit the floor.
For one horrible second, Mandy thought he'd been shot. That Inez had aimed at him, that his chest was open, that the blood was his.
Then he pushed himself up.
The bullet had hit the chain. One of the four chains holding the tear open. The light around it flickered wildly, spitting sparks, and the tear itself—the wound in reality—jagged open an extra inch.
"No—" Inez staggered forward.
Beth tackled her.
The camera flew.
They went down in a tangle of limbs—Beth's short blonde hair, Inez's loose bun, fists and elbows and knees. Beth hit her once. Twice. A third time, knuckles splitting on Inez's cheekbone.
"Stay down!" Beth screamed. "Stay down!"
Inez didn't stay down.
She threw Beth off with a strength that shouldn't have been possible for a woman her age. Beth hit the wall. Her head cracked against stone.
She didn't get up.
"Beth!" Mandy ran to her sister.
"She's alive," Calista said. "She's breathing. Help her—"
Mandy checked the pulse.
Thready. Fast. But there.
"She's okay. She's—"
The tear ripped wider.
The light poured out.
It wasn't the Shine anymore. The Shine had been beautiful—terrible, but beautiful. This was something else. Something darker. Something that made Mandy's teeth vibrate in her skull and her vision blur at the edges.
"What is that?" Rick's shard was blinding now.
"It's the vault," Calista whispered. "It's opening."
Inez stood.
Her face was bloody. Her nose was broken. But she was smiling—a wide, triumphant, absolutely insane smile.
"It's finally opening," she said. "Do you know what's inside? Do you know what I've been waiting for?"
"A monster," Rick said.
"No." Inez laughed. "A mercy. Something that will wipe the magic from this world forever. Something that will burn through every spell, every enchanted creature, every wand and book and shard and curse until there's nothing left but clean, silent, human nothing."
The tear ripped wider still.
Mandy felt her shard pulse against her chest—not warm, not bright, but warning. It knew what was coming.
"You're wrong," Calista said.
"Am I?"
"The vault doesn't hold a mercy." Calista stepped forward. Her fire was still burning around her hands. "It holds a choice. That's what the prophecy meant. That's what all of this has been for."
She looked at Rick. He nodded.
"It holds a chance," Calista continued, "to decide what magic is. What it means. What it's for. And if you open it without deciding—"
"It'll decide for us," Mandy whispered.
"Exactly."
The tear ripped wider.
Something moved in the light.
Something old.
Something patient.
Something that had been waiting a very long time for someone to make a decision.