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“There has to be another way, another solution,” Esta said. “You can’t actually want this?”

“I do not deny that I will take joy in Thoth’s destruction—and the destruction of this ugly, meager world along with it. But what I want hasn’t been of any consequence for eons. I will not be sad to give these last pieces of what I am to see this world unmade, and all the terrible souls it contains along with it—especially if it means that Thoth can never prevail.”

“If you allow Thoth to make you into a monster, then he’s already won.” Esta was breathing hard, and her eyes were burning with tears she refused to shed. “He’s twisted you into something worse than even himself. Your vengeance must have blinded you or you wouldn’t be so willing to give up everything you were meant to be and become nothing more than a pawn to Thoth.”

“Your life must be worth very little that you would insult me so,” Seshat hissed. In a blink she’d latched onto Esta’s already sore wrist. “You came to me. You chose me.”

Esta could feel herself breaking apart. There was a moment when she considered how easy it would be to give in, to let go and allow Seshat’s power to take her—especially if Harte was gone. But she didn’t give in. Gathering all the strength she had left, she tore herself away from Seshat.

“No!” Esta snarled.

“You can’t win, child,” Seshat purred. “I saw your heart, your very soul. You understand what would happen if Thoth controlled my power. You know what he would do with the heart of magic trapped inside the Book. You want this as much as I—”

“No!” Esta roared again, and this time she focused her affinity, reached for the spaces between the seconds, and pulled, only a little, until the illusion began to waver like an earthquake rumbling beneath their feet. “There has to be another way. I will not sacrifice myself for your vengeance. I will fight you every second of every day, until time devours us both.” Her chest was heaving, her heart pounding in her ears like a steady tattoo, urging her on. “But give me Harte, and I will tear Thoth from this world. I will become your vengeance.” Esta struggled to hold her affinity steady, unsure of what Seshat would choose and unsure of what power she really had to stand against the goddess. “Give me Harte,” she said again, softer this time. “Give me Harte, and once Thoth is no longer a danger, I will finish what you’ve started. The world deserves that chance. Give me Harte, and I will do what you could not. I will use what I am to finish what you started and save the old magic from the ravages of time and right the balance between them. I will take on the burden of the serpent’s curse. But only for Harte’s life. He’s the one I came for. He’s always the one I will come back for. Not you.”

Seshat’s expression was unreadable as she stared at Esta. Seconds passed—or they could have been minutes or hours, since suddenly time seemed an empty promise. Finally she cocked her head a bit to the side, a painfully human gesture. “I wonder, child,” Seshat whispered. “Would he do the same for you?”

Esta believed she knew the answer to that question, but she wasn’t foolish enough to play Seshat’s games.

“Fine,” Seshat said. “But I will hold you to your promise. Destroy Thoth if you can. But if you cannot figure out a way to finish what I began—a way to bring magic and time back into balance—you will give yourself over to me. You will fight me no longer. And we will do what we must.”

Suddenly the fires went out, and the room went completely dark, the only light coming from the stars above. Seshat sank back into the darkness. And then the illusion of the chamber faded, leaving only the arena—the chaos and smoke and hot fury in the air.

Beneath Esta’s hands, Harte gasped, his lungs pulling in air and his eyes fluttering open, the stormy gray of his irises still unfocused.

“Destroy Thoth, as you’ve promised,” Seshat whispered. It sounded like the goddess was there in the flesh. Esta could practically feel Seshat’s warm breath close to her ear, but when Esta turned to look, she saw nothing but Jack lying on the floor nearby, his body still smoldering. “Fail and I will not be so merciful again.”

“Esta?” Harte’s voice rasped when he spoke, and his hands came to the bruised skin of his neck.

“I’m here,” she said, her throat closing with an emotion she was not ready to face. And then she released him, leaving him back in the stillness of time.

The arena hung in silence around her as Esta stood, taking a moment to steady herself—to look at Harte, his eyes filled with a heartbreaking softness—and then she walked to where Jack lay on the ground, frozen in time.

Jack’s eyes were wide, and his face was contorted in rage. The lapels of his jacket had flopped open, and the top edge of the Book was visibly peeking from its inside pocket. She knew that the second she touched the Book, Thoth would awaken—unless she took care of him first. She needed to act, before Thoth had a chance to understand what was happening. She would have to kill them both before Jack could fight back.

Esta’s hands were surprisingly steady as she picked up the dagger from where it had fallen to the floor. Its weight was familiar, and when she held it in her hand, she thought she felt the answering call of the stones in the cuff and the necklace she wore beneath her clothes. But whether the echo of their power was a warning or encouragement, she didn’t know. She ignored their warmth against her skin and took the dagger to where Jack lay.

He’d hurt so many, Esta reminded herself, even as her hands shook. Jack had taken life after life, and worse, he’d inspired the hate of so many. He hadn’t created that hate—neither had Thoth—but together they had urged it on, given it purchase and light to grow, and because of him, so many had suffered. So many would suffer still.

Jack Grew was a vapid, insecure little man, and his death wouldn’t be a loss for the world… not really.

It would be worth it—the dark stain she would claim for her own soul—to take his life. To save so many more. It was a weight Esta knew she could carry, one that she would happily bear, just as her father, Dolph, must have borne so many of his own sins.… And it didn’t matter whether Harte would do the same for her. It did not.

Esta lifted the dagger and felt the power of the Pharaoh’s Heart coursing through the air as she knelt by Jack, and then, before she could second-guess herself, she brought the dagger down, straight toward his heart.

The tip of the dagger hit bone, but then Esta felt the energy of the Pharaoh’s Heart flare, and the dagger sank to the hilt in Jack’s chest. Almost immediately, she felt Thoth’s power rise up, awful and absolute, as it reached for her. But she held tight to the hilt of the dagger and pushed all of her affinity, all of herself toward Thoth.

She could feel Jack beneath her, but she could also feel something more pulling at the net of time—something less clear and less distinct lurking within him. Esta pushed her affinity toward Jack again, searching for the spaces between where he ended and Thoth began, and when she found the demigod, she used everything she was and everything she would ever be to tear at the shape of Thoth. To rip him from Jack, to tear him from that moment in time, until the darkness in the spaces between the world flooded through him.

A scream echoed from Jack’s mouth—part human and part something that might once have been human long ago. As he screamed, a shadowy flood of dark energy poured out of his mouth and began to swarm in weaving tendrils through the room. It came together above them, a thick coil of inky black, and then all at once it burst open into a shower of ash like a terrible firework exploding above.

The power reverberating through the Aether knocked Esta back, and when she hit the floor, she lost her hold on the seconds. The world slammed back into motion, and the noise of the arena assaulted her as she watched the bits of darkness fall, descending onto the people in the arena. When they landed upon her skin, they felt like shards of ice that had the same cold energy and power as the Brink.

Esta brushed them away as she climbed to her feet and lunged for Jack. He was still writhing in agony as she took the Book from the inside of his coat, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw only watery blue. And fear.

She felt no victory as she took the Book from the pocket of his jacket. He’d hurt so many people, but that didn’t seem to matter as she watched him, weak and pathetic, with blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. His hand was grasping for the knife that now protruded from his chest, but his fingers couldn’t seem to take hold of it. Jack looked up at her again, pleading, and Esta felt an overwhelming sense of revulsion as the truth of what she’d done washed over her.

“Please…” Jack reached for her, his voice no more than a whisper as his eyes found the Book she held in her hand.