The Key turned in the lock, and Lethya squeezed her eyes shut, prepared for nothing short of a Second Apocalypse. She hadn’t even gone into her room; instead she was standing in the hallway, book in hand, the Key fitted in its hole.

There was a click, and a release, but nothing happened. Forcing an eye open, she frowned, confused, then looked at the book closer. The Key fit in it, opened it, and everything—where were her memories? The cynical voice in the back of her head suggested that she should check the book for an expiration date, maybe—Do not try to regain memories with this device after ____. Laughing inside, she flipped open the cover.

White light blasted out of the now open book, light that engulfed her, swallowed her whole, forced through her like a thousand points of glass digging through every bone and vein and shred of flesh. The pain came, hot and furious, blinding, driving her to her knees. It hurt—it hurt so much—

Lethya’s mouth opened as she clutched at her head, tears rolling down her face and then, in a second, evaporating from the heat and energy still exploding from the book, which now lay on the floor, still open, still blazing. A shriek wrenched through the air, resonating not only in the air but in the minds of anyone who registered psymantic power. It was a scream of not just the throat but of the soul, a desperate, feral shriek, words echoing in its wake though they were not spoken: Make it stop I can’t take it it hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop MAKE IT STOP—

Lethya knelt in the hall, folded in on herself, her scream still going on and on, ripping at her vocal cords, but she couldn’t stop. The light still blazed, still burned, still tore at her, opening the eyes of the mind and casting burning embers into them.

She remembered.

She was Alethyis Fanyathe, daughter of Lianai Fanyathe, the Psymantic Queen of Earth. She had an older sister, Maientra, and a twin, Aralaise. They had both died in the First Apocalypse—she’d seen them die—she’d seen her best friend sacrifice herself so that she could live—

"He can’t get you, I swore to your mother that I’d save you at any cost."

A tendril rammed through Rye, impaling her as she faced Lethya. She glanced down, surprised, and flecks of blood rained on the clear panel. A choking cough wracked her body, and a thin line of scarlet trickled out of her mouth. Her eyes locking with Lethya’s for the last time, she said desperately, "Live."

—Everyone had always said that Laise must have inherited all the psymantic power from her mother’s side, but Laise always dismissed those rumors when they came and never teased Lethya about it. She was always quieter, smarter, more mature, always better than Lethya, but Lethya couldn’t hate her for it. Maia had always been there to joke with, to keep any jealousy down, to lighten the situation, to protect them—they were the Laise and Maientra of this time, only maybe they were reincarnations, which would explain their amnesia, and their mother—

—Her mother was strong, her angel, her guardian. Lianai had been the current ruler in the Fanyathe Dynasty, a long line of Psymantic Rulers—strong psymantic powers had a tendency to follow bloodlines—and even though Lethya knew she was disappointed that none of her daughters seemed to be following in her footsteps, her mother never showed it.

—That face was branded into her memory, that horrible moment of terror and panic, those eyes boring into hers like knives—

She could never return.

That truth, that horrible, blaring truth, it overloaded her mind, ripped away all the pretenses she’d shielded her soul with, branded into it the undeniable fact: no matter how badly she wanted it, no matter what she told herself, she could never go back. She would never see her home again. She would never see her mother again; she would never chase her sisters through the halls of the PS Headquarters in an innocent child game. She would never be Lethya, Lianai Fanyathe’s carefree, sheltered daughter, anymore.

The hair tie, which had been clenched in her hand, now fell to the floor.

Rage; unspeakable rage and loss swept over her, crashed into her, caught her up and made her its arbitrator. She saw her sisters falling beneath the stone and the rubble, saw Rye’s blood, nearly choked in her own blinding hatred. Every fiber of her cried out for revenge, for retribution, for something to let her strike back. Unseen by anyone, in the face of that light, her eyes turned black.

For a split second, she did not care about those who could be hurt in a battle between her and Jaegar. She didn’t care about anyone but herself and her revenge. And that was when she lost control.

Once, the white power had come roaring out of her, uncontrollable. Now it returned her half-conceived summon, and before she could resist, it overthrew all conscious thought, sending her soul into a dark corner for it to cry and howl its fury somewhere else. All that was left was the thought that Jaegar had done so much to her, and now he had to pay, no matter what the cost.

All color in her bled away, out of her eyes, out of her face, out of her clothes and hair, leaving only a sickly white with pale blue to shimmer far beneath the surface. Everything that was Lethya had been shoved and hidden away deep within, leaving only the whiteness behind. And it was the whiteness now, burning with hatred, that was in control.

The shriek died away, leaving any psymancers shaking their head in pain and wondering where that had come from; Lethya stood shakily, eyes wide and colorless. There were no pupils, no irises, only glowing, blank, mindless white. Doors opened, and some of her neighbors emerged to look at her, confused.

Her head snapped to the side, looking towards her door, and it flew open. Asa was behind it, shaking. "Come with me," Lethya said, and her voice was not her own. "Come and help me kill Jaegar."

Only Lethya heard Asa’s response. "No—I can’t—"

"Why not?!"

Asa was trembling in fear at what her ‘mother’ had become. "You—you told me, Mother—you told me not to kill."

That hit her, and for a moment it seemed the whiteness might retreat, but then it smoldered brighter. "Damn you," Lethya spat. "To hell with you. I don’t need you. I don’t want you."

Jerik had known something was wrong from the instant that scream had assaulted two of his six senses, and now he ran towards Lethya’s room, feeling something begin to grow. Hurtling around the corner, he found something standing near Lethya’s room, glowing an incandescent white. "Lethya?!"

The figure turned, regarding him flatly, then walked away, vanishing down a hall. With every step, the sense of contained power got stronger, as did the feeling in the pit of Jerik’s stomach that something was terribly wrong here.

Ander came out of his room, ears ringing from the overload of that scream, eyes wide and alert. He’d been overwhelmed for the past thirty seconds by that explosion of a power that was wrong—it had scorched each of his senses, and it had only been in the last few seconds that he could even walk. "What the hell is going on? Where’s Lethya?"

"Mother’s scary," Tai said from where he was hiding under Ander’s couch. "Something’s wrong. She wants to hurt someone."

Ander knelt and picked up a book on the ground. Immediately, there was a small flash, and memories he’d pushed away—the sight of Laise dead, Jaegar murdering his parents, the loneliness he’d felt then and still felt now—were all but ground in his face.

Another cry rang through the air, through the atmosphere, reaching every planet, every psymancer, every ear, radiating from the roof; he could see the thing Lethya had become standing there, challenging. "Jaegar! Come and get me!"

The book brought back memories. That had been Lethya’s voice. The acidic residue of that white power hidden in Lethya was all over the hall. "Oh no…"

The response came immediately, though it only came to those near the challenger. It was a voice few had heard, and one that froze all that heard it to the bone—with one exception that stood on the roof of V.E.O. "As you wish."

Jerik’s mind put it together. "Oh no is right," he agreed numbly. "Really, really right. This can’t be good."

Ander was gone before Jerik had finished the sentence.

Lethya stood on the roof of the school, shining white, rage coursing through her. She wouldn’t wait for Jaegar, instead walking to greet him. Poor fool; he didn’t know what was coming. Face bland, she stepped off the roof and drifted to the ground like a burning dandelion seed, landing gently on the main street through the city. The pavement shuddered, then cracked under her feet, but she kept her chin up and began walking.

People either got out of her way or were pushed away by an aura that began expanding. At first, only the pavement directly under her feet dented. Then it began depressing a few feet ahead, then ten feet. Anyone within thirty feet of her was shoved away by an invisible wall.

She walked on, expressionless, like the walking dead, and the aura grew.

When she was fifty feet away from the school, windows and glass anywhere near her started cracking, then shattering. Then the glass within twenty feet of her shattered. The transports overhead operated with anti-gravity technology, but to keep them on course and not let them crash into the buildings, posts lined the streets with magnetic chargers on them, forming a ‘pavement’ of sorts. Some floated in the air as well, keeping all the highways in line.

That didn’t work so well when Lethya got closer.

The magnetic chargers first sparked, then swayed, then sprayed out a few bolts of electricity. And then any within twenty feet of her exploded, then ones even further away. Metal began pulling away from her, streetlights trying to free themselves from concrete traps, steel supports creaking within the walls of buildings, keys tugging in pockets, watches pulling wrists away as Lethya loomed nearer.

Maientra ran through the halls of V.E.O., frantic. She’d felt Lethya’s scream, been nearly bowled over by Ander on his way out, then accosted by Jerik, who was nearly out of his mind with confusion and worry. Brina had mentioned Asa being frightened, but couldn’t get anything else out of the Silver dragon, which scared her even more.

The book in the middle of the hall caught her eye, and she bent down and picked it up. It was closed, with a key lying on its cover—she pocketed the key and the book—but she couldn’t take the time to worry about it now. There was corrosive power lining the halls in white shadows, pure and almost toxic, and somehow she knew it had come from Lethya. The door to her rooms was open, and she went through them and onto the balcony, picking up on an enormous power of the same kind as in the hall.

Below her, something like a transparent, glistening bubble was swelling in the main street through Neo Tokyo—the one that went straight through the city, only interrupted by the Imperial Palace in the city’s heart, and then it ringed around the Palace and continued on. The whiteness was layered, growing more intense towards the center, and the sounds of destruction rent the air as it slowly inched down, moving no faster than a walking person. Behind the hemisphere, smoke and dust billowed up in clouds; above it, transports veered away, some crashing into buildings and exploding—their drivers had to have died instantly. There was the moan of metal rending, twisting, bending; small explosions preceded the whiteness. And it was getting bigger.

What is that?! Is it something from Jaegar?!

Vaguely, dimly, Maia suddenly remembered the metal bending away from Lethya in that clip of when she’d let loose on Halisyen Academy’s roof.

Helitransports were reflected in the glassy white eyes of Lethya, circling as close as they could get without being pushed back. Psymantic shields surrounded them, and a man’s voice projected out, commanding. "Stop where you are and cease use of psymantic power!"

She didn’t blink, just kept walking as if she hadn’t heard.

For all of the expression in her, she could have had muscle relaxants injected into her face. Her feet kept moving, walking smoothly over ground made uneven and dented by the crush of her power. By now, there was nothing within eighteen feet of her but burning light. Within eighteen to fifty feet of her, metal either ripped free of its anchors or bent away so severely it would most likely be irreparable. It looked as if half of a giant iron ball had rolled down the street, but debris also whirled in that level and any part of a building caught in it caved in or sagged treacherously. From fifty to seventy-five feet, the metal bent, anything relying on magnetic power exploded, and anything in that range was subject to pressure radiating from Lethya herself. From seventy-five feet to a hundred, glass broke and metal shivered, and things like transports were hurled any which way.

There was no response.

After a moment of hesitation, there was a flash, a crack, and then a missile zoomed towards her. Lethya held up a hand, stopping it dead midway through, and it dropped like a stone, hitting the ground with a thud and lying like a dead animal.

Machinegun bullets whistled towards her, but vanished when they hit that innermost sphere of power around her. That drew a reaction from her: she glanced up, face mild. "You shouldn’t do that," she said amiably. "It’s dangerous to point guns." Lethya raised an arm, fingers positioned to resemble a gun, and pointed it at the helitransport.

Something like a comet streaked towards the aircraft, and there was a huge explosion that knocked anyone nearby off their feet. It caught the second helitransport and the fuel tank ignited, causing another explosion. One wreck of a helitransport plummeted to the ground; the second, still in flames, fell awkwardly, slamming into a building. A shower of glass sprayed into the air, raining down like clear, deadly hail.

Lethya walked on, the aura neatly sweeping aside the ruins of the helitransport as she passed.

Darkness.

That was all she knew; darkness.

Her awakening was slow, painfully so. Even though someone had hit the button for release well over a month ago, the Preservex she was in didn’t function properly—it had been knocked over before it had finished stabilizing, and the last thing she remembered was debris and blackness…And now there was nothing but emptiness.

After three thousand years or so of unconsciousness, some part of her had decided she needed a way to get out, and had desperately gathered what was left of her power and made herself again—or tried to. She’d sent out a Projection of her soul, one that looked, acted, and felt like a clone of herself—real in every sense other than her true body was still trapped somewhere—but it hadn’t worked. Her powers hadn’t been enough to replicate her memories, and when her soul had awoken in a new body, on the streets of an unfamiliar world, she’d had no idea who she was or what had happened. The original goal—to get help and free herself from the broken Preservex—was completely lost, among other things… The Rensaris’s had adopted her with Maia…She hadn’t planned on falling in love…or on her Projection dying, for that matter. It was so…strange… She’d sent out her own soul, and her soul had died in the other world.

Her eyes began to crack open, her consciousness returning. Where was she? She remembered seeing her twin run into the hall, then the tentacles ramming into the Preservex, and then blackness…Then waking up, no memories… Being taken in by the Rensaris’s…her adoptive sister, Maientra… Enrolling at Halisyen…

What was left of her heart gave a twist. It all came back: their brief romance, the argument, then…

She wanted to scream then; she remembered what had happened. What that man had done to her. What it meant would happen to Ander. Had happened.

She lay there for days, the preserving gases slowly escaping into whatever was above, half-alive, half-dead, not awake but not asleep either.

Then came pain, mind-shattering pain, and white light. It made her writhe, using her body for the first time in centuries; made her scream, using a throat and vocal cords long in disuse. The pain passed, but then came the shock, the swelling shock and power, somewhere above her.

That power…felt familiar somehow…

She wasn’t whole. But that power could make her whole. Restore that soul that had been raped and murdered. She could return, make Ander innocent, go back to the way things had been. She wanted that power. She needed that power.

She knew what she’d lost in the First Apocalypse, as they called it, but it didn’t matter. She still had Maia, even if Lethya was lost; she had Ander and a home, even if she’d lost her first world.

…And her dragon.

My dragon…was a Blue, wasn’t she? She’s…dead… She couldn’t sense Kôrinohikari at all, and their bond was gone…

Well, she’d have to get another one. But she’d have to get out first.

No one saw the chilling sight of a pale hand forcing through the rubble beneath V.E.O. Academy; they were mostly watching Lethya destroy just about everything else.

Maia didn’t have time for a Dragonship, and after witnessing Lethya blow the helitransports to bits, she didn’t want to risk it, so she settled for running instead. This was one of those times where she was deeply grateful for the all the exercises and training she kept up during the mornings; Lethya had a big head start and she’d need all the speed she could get.

The damage done by the girl was obvious the minute she stepped outside. Helitransporters circled over the main street, smoke screening much of the view; fires leapt at the sky from some buildings, others with their lower stories almost completely caved in or eaten away; a trench plowed down the center of the street; there were bodies lying motionless all around. It was as if a giant hemisphere had shoved down the street, crushing and bending and destroying anything in its way.

She took off in its wake, dashing alongside the trench and following that unnaturally straight, inhumanly unwavering path. Clouds of dust and smoke drifted across the street, obscuring her view, but she ran on until she came to the crystal-clear outer reaches of Lethya’s aura. The younger girl practically burned with power, like a bleached phoenix; was this the true force that she had contained all this time? What had been brought to life within her?

"Lethya!" she yelled desperately. "Lethya, listen to me! You’ve got to stop!"

The white girl who had been Lethya didn’t even turn around, just kept up the deadly march.

"You’re killing them, Lethya!"Even that didn’t draw an answer, so Maia pulled in a breath, then stepped into the aura.

Immediately, she was almost crushed by the pressure. How Lethya was surviving in its heart was beyond her, but then again, that wasn’t really Lethya in there. Somehow she forced herself to cry out as the glaringly bright girl walked on, pulling the aura away from her. "LETHYA! STOP!"

The girl slowly turned, and Maia didn’t dare breathe. Lethya’s face was flat, her eyes empty, almost soulless. Would this end? "Don’t—don’t keep doing this—Lethya, there’s no reason—"

"You want to know why?" that unearthly voice asked. "You’ll have to remember first."

"Remember what?" Maia’s voice shook; she couldn’t mean what she thought she meant.

"Your past life, of course." A single, slender beam of white light shot from Lethya’s palm, striking Maia in the forehead.

The woman paled, almost to a deathly shade, her pupils dilating to pinpricks. She swayed for a moment, then fell to her knees, hands clenched into fists and bones creaking dangerously. Lethya’s way of returning memories wasn’t as agonizing as the Locked Book’s, but it wasn’t painless.

Lethya turned around and walked on.

Ander had surveyed the damage she’d done, both to the city and to Maientra, and tried to think clearly without his emotions getting in the way. Lethya was walking that straight line down the street, and nothing had gotten in her way yet. If she kept that up, she’d walk straight through the Imperial Palace. He could sense some people already evacuating the buildings in her path and others organizing a group of psymancers to try and stop her, but it wouldn’t work; he knew that already.

Someone walked into her path: Toju Hokusai, the Psymantic King. Ander paused, then jumped to another building to watch from, one that was less likely to crumble under his feet. If any psymancer had a chance of taking Lethya on in this state, it was Hokusai, and to interfere now wouldn’t help.

Both the semi-mindless Lethya and Ander were expecting an attack from the Psymantic King. Instead, he lifted his hands, and Lethya rose into the air. The spell had set in before she’d blocked it.

The aura surrounding her condensed, compacted, once her attention was diverted. Toju took a deep breath, then gave out a burst of power, and Lethya was hurled out of the view of the main street. Ander saw her soar over the buildings and took off after her, not sure if Toju meant to kill her or get her away from the heart of the city. The direction she seemed to be going in was towards the abandoned wasteland, of all places. Soon, she was lost behind the buildings, but he followed her aura.

Lethya threw up a shield, buffering some of the impact as she struck and broke through a wall, then another, then finally hit the ground, skidding in the rubble, rolling over and over again. The broken stone and cement tore at her skin, rending deep cuts and wide scrapes that bled sluggishly as she lay there, covered in dust, fine powder, and now blood, sides heaving.

The whiteness still clung to her, and she got to her feet. The aura returned, scouring the blood and dust away, though the wounds remained. She didn’t feel the deep gash in her side; didn’t feel the broken ribs, the twisted ankle, the delicate finger bones that had cracked under the abuse they’d taken.

Toju landed in front of her, and she stood undaunted, white power swirling around her with unchecked fury. A blast of light shrieked towards him, hitting a shield that held for a moment, buckled, and allowed the Psymantic King to be struck full-force in the chest and thrown into a wall. Lethya shook, and her fingers straightened, bones lining back into place; her ribs began to heal; the wounds and gashes began to close.

Ander was halfway to the abandoned fields when something white flew overhead, grim. A splash of red hit the roof: Lethya’s blood.

Toju hadn’t stopped her. That was almost as frightening as the knowledge that she was returning to her first path.

He whirled and flew after her, feeling the fierce power within stir. This had gone too far.

Laise found herself in V.E.O. Academy, looking dazedly around. People were running back and forth, shouting orders, yelling for any news, demanding information. She caught the name ‘Lethya.’

So Lethya was still alive, was she? Both of her sisters were still alive…How coincidental…

That white power was still alive, still throbbing with life, with restoration, with the ability to return her soul; she needed it. But if she went to claim it now, she would die. She would have to wait until the user was done and burnt out, and then she would take it for herself, for revival of her happiness, and for Ander. She had to set both of them free.

Something stirred in her mind, something crying from above. She dimly pinpointed the location, not used to having a body again, then took a transportation shaft to that level and blandly walked down the hall, then found the door.

A wire skimmed over her finger, and the door slid open. "Genetic Scan Confirmed: Alethyis Fanyathe."

There were advantages to being identical twins.

Laise walked in, following that projection, that pull, and ended up in a bedroom—Lethya’s bedroom, she could sense it. There were signs of being lived-in—she’d been taken into V.E.O., had she? That was strange…Lethya wasn’t a psymancer, and even though all three daughters of Lianai Fanyathe had had flight instruction and been taught to read the wind currents and flying strategies, Lethya hadn’t been anything special. In fact, of the three sisters, she’d been the worst.

Something shifted, and then a bag fell on its side. Out crawled two baby dragons, a male and a female.

The female looked up at her, unusually dark blue eyes forcing open. She didn’t have a dragon anymore…but here was one, open for bonding. Her eyes locked with the hatchling’s, but nothing happened, so she used psymantics to force the bond into existence. Satisfied, she picked up the dragonet and walked out, leaving the male behind. "I will call you Namaenashi for now," she said emotionlessly, using the old word for ‘Nameless’.

Tyra stepped out of her room, thoroughly frightened. First, there had been that scream; then the Shinju had begun to crack shortly after that wave of Psymantic energy began growing from whatever that white thing was. Plus she could feel the wavelengths and streamlines of energies, of live things and recently dead ones. She felt life flowing in the city and the black gaps where someone had died within the past month or so; she knew how to lift something and set it down; she could feel more than she knew.

Her Psymantic ability must have awakened; that was the only explanation. She looked unsteadily around, not sure of what to do. A boy was leaning against the wall, looking stunned; maybe he would help her. She needed to know what was going on with the Shinju.

She stepped out and tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me?"

Green eyes opened and landed on her. "Can I help you?"

"What—what’s happening?"

The boy’s eyebrows raised, and he looked at the open door. "That’s your room, right?" She nodded. "Come on."

He led the way down the hall and into the living room, shoved aside the curtains, pushed open the door, and swept an arm towards the balcony. Tyra walked onto it, and he followed her.

A giant white hemisphere was breaking things, and quite efficiently. A dark blur was following it, and the boy leaned forward, rubbed his face with his hand, then pulled himself together and pointed. "That’s what’s happening. Damn it, why? Why does this have to happen to us?"

Tyra looked at him, surprised. He was leaning heavily on the balcony railing, harrowed; he needed distraction from his own thoughts. "Who’s doing that?"

"Lethya. Lethya Fanyathe. Lethster. Leth-o-rama. Leth-meister." He laughed dully. "K-bomb." There was a pause, and he continued. "Ander—that’s the guy on that building over there—he’s a Levitator. All his life, he’s kept himself in check, never used his full strength, never even touched his birthright. It’s the Muteran power, the Rintyran… Lethya’s never seen it; she’s never seen him use the Muteran powers…But now she’s about to." His shoulders slumped. "She got all her memories back, Lethya did, and look at her—went into shock so fast, she lost control. There were Jaegar auras and kraken ashes all around where we found her—I knew something bad had to happen in her past, but God, not something that would make her do this. I hate Jaegar. She wouldn’t be like this if he’d never been born. Ander wouldn’t have to do this—he could kill her, he might have to, and after Laise—I hate the bastard! I hate Jaegar!"

Tyra looked at him, not understanding everything he was saying, but knowing it was nothing to take lightly. "Sometimes, what looks like a bad thing turns out for the best," she offered. "I’ve been stuck in Hokkaido all my life in a community of female non-psymancers in a shielded area, but I had to leave almost two weeks ago or I would’ve blown up. I have to tell myself that this will turn out for the best all the time."

He looked at her, then out at the destruction of his city. "I’m going to have to tell myself that too now," he said, knowing he could do nothing to stop one of his closest friends and hating himself for it.

Ander landed in front of Lethya, face set. There was no other way. The psymancers that had tried to stand in her way were either dead or unconscious, and she didn’t seem ready to stop there.

Lethya walked towards him, then stopped before the aura pushed him away. "Move."

"No."

Behind her, one of the skyscrapers wavered, then slowly plummeted, crumbling in on itself, collapsing like an exhaling lung, spewing out thick clouds of dust and smoke with a crash that sounded like the death knell of Neo Tokyo. The clouds rolled out, swamping the city, breaking on the aura, and then another skyscraper fell, rocking forward, crashing down, striking another tower beside it and tearing it to the ground.

Lethya didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, didn’t show any signs of remorse or even caring. She didn’t look behind her; didn’t even seem to notice.

She had to be stopped, and by any means necessary.

Ander took a deep breath, then drew out the power that resided beneath the psymantic energy. It was Muteran power, Rintyran, and far more destructive. He didn’t use it if he could help it, but this had gotten to the point where it was the only chance Neo Tokyo had.

I can’t think about that right now. There’s too much riding on this.

Where his normal powers were red-gold, this would appear as an acidic, devouring gold, though for the moment it was invisible. He put his hands in front of him, one behind the other and angled so that the palms lined up but the fingers formed a ninety-degree angle with those of the opposite hand. It would combine both streams in his arms, as well as keep his palms from being ripped up, as they had been last time he’d used the Rintyran.

There were seven root destructive spells for the Rintyran, each more powerful than the last. The one he was summoning now was the Fifth. Power burned in his arms, in every fiber of his body, in the air around him, and he did the best he could to focus it in his palms.

I have to do this.

Once the buildup reached the breaking point, he held on a breath longer, than let go. For a split-second, there was absolute silence.

And then the Fifth Spell came to life.

Gold light of a kind no one had seen for years came from nowhere, exploding from his palms in a thousand lightning-like branches, ramming into the aura, slashing through it, spearing the sick whiteness. There was an inhuman scream in the heart of the explosion, but it was lost as those lashes of gold ripped without prejudice through psymantic power and street, carrying into buildings in some cases. Explosions followed on the heels of that lightning, blasting through the whiteness like molars grinding a piece of fat.

When the smoke cleared, Lethya had fallen, motionless. No one dared breathe, wondering if this was the end, wondering if she was dead, wondering what followed: life or death. Some walls of the nearby buildings gave in, some debris falling, but no one paid any heed.

Slowly, she sat up, then staggered to her feet, eyes nearly rabid in their blinding white. Whatever it was, it still had her.

The wind blew through the city, pushing at the clouds of settling dust, drying sweat on Lethya’s face and on Ander’s, and carrying a new aura that was the last thing he wanted to sense. Turning, he found the black blossom of the kraken in the sky. Jaegar was coming.

"I’m going to kill him," Lethya said raggedly.

"No you’re not, Lethya!" He took a step forward.

"Get out of my way!" Power smashed into Ander like a hammer, sending him flying into a crashed transport. The broken glass and twisted, sharp-edged metal dug into his back, pulling at his flesh. He dropped to the ground again, bleeding now.

Lethya was walking on. No, she was limping. And the most disturbing thing about it all was that in her path was left little puddles of light that had the same aura as blood.

Even her blood had turned to burning white.

Light dripped from her hands, from her chin, from her legs—her body couldn’t take much more, yet she walked on. The hatred was that powerful.

"Stop, Lethya!" Ander forced himself to stand, wondering if he’d have to use the Fifth Spell again.

"I have to kill him," she whispered. "I have to end this with him."

He stumbled after her, but she whipped around, and the look in her eyes was no longer one of apathy, but the struggling rage of a dying, feral animal. She wouldn’t last, and both of them knew it.

The aura began growing again, corroding anything nearby. It was like the spell she had used against the Muterans on the roof of the DAT, but it didn’t distinguish between anything, instead eating away at anything it touched. Ander stepped into it and felt it widen his wounds and the blood well up, then dissolve. The pain was staggering, but he continued. Lethya was burning herself up even as she tried to fight him and everything else off.

Jaegar landed thirty feet in front of them, the kraken still looming overhead.

Ander saw the blood of his parents, tasted it in his mouth, heard their cries in his ears, remembered how long he’d spent locked in his room, planning everything he would do to Jaegar, even though he was only five. Almost twelve years couldn’t erase those memories.

"You’re dead!" Lethya shrieked. "I’m going to kill you, you bastard!"

Agony ripped through Ander the minute his arms wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her from throwing herself at the Muteran. "Lethya, stop!"

"Let me kill him!" She thrashed, and warm liquid blood-light struck his cheek and his clothes. Her hands clenched and unclenched, bright with that glowing blood. "Damn you, let me kill him!"

"You can’t, Lethya! Give it up!" He held on tighter; if he lost focus on restraining her, the pain would take him. She screamed her fury, her rage, her agony, and the power roared within her, swollen with bloodlust. "You’re killing yourself!" He shook her. "You kill Jaegar and you kill yourself! Damn it all, Lethya, wake up!"

The street split down the middle to where Jaegar stood, white light flaring up until it blew up in front of Jaegar. The whiteness exploded there like a geyser of pure, destructive power, the Muteran caught in the middle of it, Lethya watching it with hungry, inhuman eyes. For almost a minute, boiling, poisonous power ate away at the one thing that could bring a sixteen-year-old girl to this, a fountain of light soaring into the sky in a final blast.

Then it was over, and Jaegar was left on his knees. He looked up, charred and bleeding, wounded but intact. His eyes locked with Lethya’s, and a slow grin crossed his face as if he felt no pain. A deep, malicious laugh echoed down the street, and then Jaegar vanished with the kraken, still alive.

Lethya stared at that blackened mark where he’d been, drained, completely empty. He’d left. She was going to kill him, and he’d run away laughing. He’d mocked her.

Her head dropped, and she fell limp in Ander’s arms. The aura died away; she became a normal girl again. The blood washed red again, red on her white face, her blonde hair falling loose around her.

Ander swayed for a moment; then his knees gave out and he, too, fell. His eyes were blurring; he saw the red of Lethya’s blood by his head, beside the white of the ash drifting around them. Red and white…Laise… Would Laise have done this? What had been controlling Lethya?

What would the city do to her?

His thoughts, his sight, every fragment of awareness he possessed, it all fell back into the darkness.