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“Sure,” Dom said. “That’s usually how it works.”

“Why would anyone willingly give up even a part of their affinity?” Harte asked.

Dom shrugged. “It’s not always willing,” he told them. “But desperate people do desperate things.”

“It sounds like what Dolph did to Leena,” Esta said, glancing at Harte.

He was frowning thoughtfully as he stared down at the Book. “Or like what Seshat did to herself by placing parts of her magic into the original stones.” He glanced up and met Esta’s eyes.

They were onto something here. She could feel it, and the expression Harte wore told Esta that he felt the same.

“This ritual is different, though,” Everett said, pointing to a block of text on the page. “It’s not meant to take part of an affinity. It’s designed to take everything. All of a person’s magic. And their life along with it.”

Dom frowned. “Everything?”

Everett nodded. “The people who Newton used to power those stones didn’t survive. They weren’t supposed to.”

This wasn’t news. Esta learned that months ago, when the Professor had revealed himself and what he intended to do. But she couldn’t help thinking of the Nitemarket and all the objects she’d seen for sale there. She thought, too, of what Dolph had done to Leena. “Why not just take part of their magic?”

“Because a life sacrificed is stronger,” Everett told them, and when they all turned to him, he shrugged. “A life is singular. And taking a life can create a rare form of power.”

But Esta wasn’t sure that made sense. She looked down at the bandage on her arm. If a life was singular, how could there be two of her—the person she was and the other version of herself who was growing up under the thumb of Nibsy?

Because you are nothing. An abomination.

She shivered a little at the memory of Thoth’s words back in Denver. She wasn’t nothing. She couldn’t be. She was herself. She wasn’t some mistake in the time line.

Harte was staring at her—she could feel the intensity of his gaze—but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t let Dom know how important this was, or she worried that he’d never give up the Book.

“Does it say what he planned on doing with the stones?” she asked.

Everett frowned and turned back to the Book. “It looks like his plan was to connect them using the Aether.”

“That’s what Seshat did,” Harte murmured. “When she created the Book. She connected the stones she made with her affinity through the Aether.”

“But Seshat was trying to save the old magic,” Esta reminded him. “What was Newton trying to do?”

“He was trying to create the philosopher’s stone,” Everett said. When they all looked at him, he only shrugged. “Isn’t that the goal of all the old alchemists? Create the substance that can transmute matter and let you live forever?”

Dom swore softly under his breath. “Did he succeed?”

“No,” Esta told them.

Everett looked up at her, frowning.

“Newton never went through with the ritual,” she reminded them. “He gave the stones and the Book to the Order for safekeeping instead. They’re the ones who finally tried the ritual. But it didn’t work the way they expected. It’s what created the Brink.”

“But the Brink didn’t work,” Dom said. “The Order doesn’t have the philosopher’s stone. If they did, we’d all know about it.”

“Because the ritual went wrong,” Harte told him.

“And also because the philosopher’s stone isn’t a thing,” Everett said. “Not according to this…” He paused, studying the page.

“Well, go on,” Dom directed, leaning forward to look over the page where Everett was reading. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” Everett told them. “Alchemical recipes are more like poems than recipes. They’re symbolic. Alchemists used them to obscure as much as to record their work. But it doesn’t seem like Newton thinks the philosopher’s stone is a thing so much as a state of being. A place. It’s what he was trying to create by connecting the stones through the Aether.”

“Aether is time,” Esta said softly. Newton was creating a boundary made of time—or made from manipulating time. Just like Seshat was trying to do.