Jae tried to open one of the drawers, which was locked. A quick, inquiring look at Baz. And though he still had a million questions he wanted to ask, he shoved all of them down to do this one task, pulling on the thread of time that saw the drawer unlocked.
Jae rummaged through it, slamming documents and ledgers and loose papers on the desk. Kai grabbed a small, black leather-bound ledger from the pile.
Fury swept over his features. He swore, handing the ledger to Baz. “Look.”
It was opened on a page containing Kai’s name, the date his blood sample was taken, how much of it had been harnessed. An earlier entry caught Baz’s attention—Theodore Brysden. But his father’s name was crossed out with a note written in the margin that read: BAD SAMPLE—SYNTH DIDN’T WORK.
Baz frowned at the term. Synth. He flipped to the start of the ledger, where a title was written neatly at the top: S.O. Synthetic Magics. Above the title was a spiral just like the one Emory had on her wrist—like the one on the Hourglass—and below it, a list of instructions:
To make synthetic:
Take 1 vial of blood from a Collapsed Eclipse-born—needs to be in its silver state; the Unhallowed Seal prevents the silver from leaving their veins.
Combine with 1 vial of blood from a magic user with the desired tidal alignment. Note: To imbue synthetic with more than one tidal alignment, use double the amount of silver Eclipse blood.
Ink blood mixture into skin; to activate, wash in salt water. The synthetic lasts approx. 6 hours & works regardless of the moon phase.
Horror was slow to dawn on Baz, and then it hit all at once. “The magic they put to sleep after we Collapse… They take it from us to make some kind of synthetic magic out of it.”
His father’s sample must not have worked because he hadn’t Collapsed. His magic hadn’t yet become this raw, silvery thing in his veins, and so somehow, it had no consequence on these experiments.
Baz frowned at Jae. “Wouldn’t they have seen that Dad’s blood was red?”
“Doubtful. The illusion I placed on him makes it look like he bleeds silver, even now. I made sure my illusion was a sustainable one. An upside of Collapsing, to maintain that kind of magic with little effort.”
“Wouldn’t your blood be silver?” Kai frowned between Jae and Baz.
“No. The silver only stays for a short period after the Collapsing, fading back to red over time—unless, of course, it’s stoppered by the Unhallowed Seal. It’s why those of us who Collapse but manage to escape the seal can avoid detection. Our blood runs red.”
Baz quickly went through the other journals on the desk, full of notes and theories and lists he couldn’t decipher. His eyes caught on Emory’s name, the newest entry at the bottom of one such list. Her date of birth had been crossed out, with another inked over it. A single day before it. Baz’s eyes swept the list all the way to the top, where the title Suspected Tidecaller Eclipses had been penned. His spine tingled with understanding: these were people born across centuries on the same ecliptic event as Emory. A rare variant of a total solar eclipse.
He blinked at one of the earlier names that was underlined, had to reread it again to make sense of it.
Cornus Clover.
It couldn’t be. Clover was a known Healer. Born on a new moon… unless he was like Emory. Born a Healer, only to become a Tidecaller.
His heart pounded. Cornus Clover, the author of his beloved book, the man who was believed to have written himself into his story. The scholar who could walk through worlds.
… magic runs in his veins as he runs through worlds like rivers to the sea and blood through arteries.
That very same passage was written in the journal, right in the margin next to Clover’s name. Below it, someone had scribbled in bold letters: AINSLEIF’S MAGIC = KEY. USE AS VESSEL.
Vessel.
It sounded like what the drowned gods had needed to escape their prison in Song of the Drowned Gods. A key to unlock the door to the sea of ash, four parts of a whole to take their place inside it. Blood and bones and heart and soul.
Four parts like the four types of magic that Emory could call upon. The four Tides, the four lunar houses, the four tidal alignments within each house—all of them a part of her, all hers to command.
She’s the key my dad and Keiran’s parents never found, Artem had said. The answer they never even knew they were looking for.
Baz swore. “He’s going to get her killed.”
“Who?”
“Emory. Keiran and the Regulator who did this to us… They think she’s the key to waking the Tides. A vessel of some kind.”
All that talk of restoring magic to its former glory… Artem really did believe it, that the Tides could be woken. That the fabled deities were real. It was crazy, surely not possible, but after seeing what Keiran was capable of… Whether it was plausible or not didn’t matter—if they were willing to go to such lengths to do something so unfathomable, the only thing that mattered was that Emory was in danger.
“I have to stop her from going back to Dovermere. We need to grab Dad and get out of here.”
There wasn’t a chance in the world that he was leaving his father here for one more second with everything going on, especially when he hadn’t even done what he’d been accused of.
Jae shoved all the ledgers and documents into their bag. The three of them pushed out the door into the corridor. They rounded a corner—and came face-to-face with Artem.
Kai swung at him with lethal speed.
“Stop,” Artem said simply. “Don’t move a muscle.”
Kai stopped.
All of them stopped, rooted in place by some compulsion—Glamour magic, Baz realized, spotting the Waxing Moon sigil on the Regulator’s hand, the blood dripping down his fingers. He’d called on his magic through bloodletting.
Artem walked toward them with slow, arrogant ease, a look of pure hatred in his eyes. There was no one else in the corridor, the place completely evacuated as the alarms still blared loudly. A knife hung from Artem’s hand. Vivianne was not with him, a fact that set off its own alarm in Baz’s mind.
Artem had wanted Vivianne to wipe their memories. And if he’d come back without her in tow, maybe he’d decided to finish the job another way. There was no one here to stop him.
The cruel curve of Artem’s smile lent credence to that sickening thought, and as he lifted the knife, it became clear he didn’t intend any of them to walk out of here.
There was a sudden movement behind Artem—and with a growl, someone knocked him over the head.
The Regulator fell limply to the ground.
Theodore Brysden stood over him with a metal tray. “Someone deactivated the wards,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Can we go now? I’m quite tired of this place.”
They left Artem on the corridor floor and hurried out of the building. Vera was waiting for them in the wooded area where she’d hidden her motorbike. She didn’t bat an eye at Theodore and Kai in their Institute garments.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Aldryn?” Baz suggested. “Dad and Kai can hide in Obscura Hall while we figure this out.”
Kai gave him a death glare. “I’m not fucking hiding. I’m coming with you to Dovermere.” He raised a brow at Baz’s stricken expression. “That’s where you’re going, no? To stop Keiran, save Emory.”
“Yes, but—”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“You’re still branded. Without access to your magic… it’s too dangerous.”
Kai balled his hands into fists. “I have these, and I’m itching to punch Dunhall Thornby in the face for what he did to me. It’ll have to be enough.”
Baz looked at the brand on the back of Kai’s white-knuckled hand. That idea again took shape at the edge of his mind, bloomed into something that felt impossible yet right.
“We can bring your dad to the Veiled Atlas,” Vera suggested. “No one will think to look for him there. And I know Alya won’t mind.” She winked at Jae. “No matter how much she pretends otherwise, she’d do just about anything for you.”