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The alpha poked its head through the glamour, cautious. The magic peeled over its graying skin. Aimee felt the push on her magic as the glamour changed shape.

Its milky eyes were strangely aware—bulging from its skull—its skin so wrinkled it seemed to sag from the bone. Its scales had rotted off in patches, and its wounds oozed. Not blood, but something black and putrid. And the smell… Oh, Shards, the smell…

It was all Aimee could do not to gag as she retreated another step.

The alpha saw it. That horrible mouth parted, letting out a low growl as it smiled.

Aimee’s breath sawed in and out of her. Hands shaking horribly, she unspooled her magic, letting it gather in her palms. Maybe she didn’t have a chance of saving them, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

The water whip formed in her hands. Just a few minutes. That’s all she needed to buy. There was an exit in the back, and even if just a few people made it out, then this—this stand… it would be worth it.

The alpha’s smile grew. It gave a bark that the others echoed. A call to act. To strike. Tohunt.

Saliva dripped from its maw as bloodied claws curled around the window frame. It reared back, tensing to lunge—

A gunshot rang out.

The alpha’s head exploded in a rain of gore.

Aimee lurched back, people screaming around her, tripping as they ran. Shelves of produce toppled, spilling onto the floor, and then—

The first explosion shook the whole building, knocking loose stone, brick, and mortar.

The second sent a blast of flame and heat gusting through the window.

Shrapnel and debris rained inwards. Aimee threw her arms up, and water formed around her—sheets of it, summoned in an instant from the air. Blue aether poured from her palms and spun outward, coalescing in hard, sharp whorls.

She reached deep, into the parts of herself she’d never dared touch. Where her rage lived, her hatred, and every other coarse, indelicate feeling she’d been taught to silence.

The third explosion detonated.

With a scream, Aimee flung the spell at the window. Water struck and froze—not a flimsy sheet, but a two-inch-thickwallof ice. It cracked as it grew, reaching over the jagged windowpane, spilling across the glass-strewn floor.

Aimee groaned against the force of the fourth explosion—against the fiery winds she could feel blasting outside that barrier.

“Through the back,” she shouted, jaw clenched tight.

But nobody moved. Nobody spoke. They were all staring past her.

Because through the ice, a shadow moved between the harpies, weaving in and out. There was a mutedthud, thud, thud, then more explosions. Harpies shrieked. Villagers flinched, hands clapped over their ears.

It was all Aimee could do to grit her teeth against the rising noise—

And then, just as suddenly, it was over.

Quiet fell.

Outside, nothing stirred.

Inside, the silence was total, broken only by the wet hitch of breath and a few sharp, shuddering gasps.

Slowly,slowly, Aimee approached the ice. She stepped through it. Magic brushed over her skin, cold and smooth as water, then gave way to the balmy kiss of morning.

The sky was light gray now, the air already heating.

She stepped into the street and looked around.

The ground was littered with bodies—human and Fey, harpies collapsed over them. But this time, the monsters weren’t moving. Just dead weight, scattered across the wreckage they’d made.