In the moment before Harlan drank the silver liquid, the memories nearly overwhelmed him. His brother's sacrifice. The days spent digging through the wreckage and gore of the Kraken, searching desperately for any sign of Emmett until his hands were raw and bloody, until his body gave out and he collapsed from exhaustion. The weeks spent in the hospital afterward, caught in a near-catatonic state. Depressed, despondent, hollow.

  Until one day, the nurses wheeled him to a window overlooking the docks. Through the glass, he saw the remnants of the Kraken. The ruins of Landry Shipping & Transport, the company he and Emmett had built from nothing. The sight of it all, the sheer weight of what had been lost, jolted him awake. The pain was unbearable, so he ran.

  Out of the hospital. Out of Corpus Christi. Into the wilderness, trying to outrun the grief.

  But the wilderness was no place for an emaciated, mentally broken man in a hospital gown. He was stalked by animals and magic beasts, his body barely holding together. When he was finally cornered, slumped against a rock and accepting death, salvation came in the form of a towering, dark figure. The Mothman.

  Together, they wandered. Harlan learned to communicate with the creature, to listen when it warned of approaching calamities. They worked to try and prevent them. And for a time, that gave him purpose. Gave him something to focus on besides what he had lost.

  But eventually, age caught up with him, and he settled in Blackwater, becoming its sheriff. He’d heard they built a statue of Emmett in Corpus, but he could never bring himself to go see it.

  The pain of losing his brother never left him. It was always there, like a dull ache at the back of his mind. Some days were better. Others were worse.

  But today? Today, Emmett’s sacrifice gave him courage. Today, as he stood on the edge of life and death, faced with his own choice to risk everything for others, he felt something else. He felt pride. If he survived this, he swore he’d finally go home. He’d pay his respects.

  Harlan downed the liquid. The taste was vile. Rotten and acidic, thick like mercury. It burned his throat on the way down, but the pain soon turned to warmth. A fire spread through his veins, igniting every nerve, every muscle. He felt himself getting stronger, faster, sharper. He needed to move. Needed to act. He started to bounce on his toe, feeling more energy than he had in years.

  His attention snapped to Billy.

  "Now, before you go running off like a headless chook, let’s go over the plan," Billy said, watching him carefully.

  Fifteen minutes later, the defenders of Blackwater had hashed out a plan that they all knew was a fool’s gamble. But no one voiced it. There was no time for doubts. No time for anything but action. As the others made their final checks, Harlan steeled himself.

  "Now, again," Mr. Liu said, voice firm. "Once the asteroid iron is in place, you get away. Or likely, you freeze to death. Hokay?"

  "I got it," Harlan said, his eyes locked on the Titan looming in the distance. Then, without turning his head, he added, "If I die, promise you’ll take care of the town. And tell a bunch of girls I loved them so they’ll cry at my funeral." A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

  "I promise," Billy said, extending a hand.

  Harlan shook it firmly, then turned to Ignivora. The massive phoenix fox sat beside him, staring up with burning golden eyes.

  "And you," Harlan murmured, placing a hand on the fox's fiery mane. "You take care of that family of yours, alright?"

  Ignivora bumped his head against Harlan’s, holding the contact for a painful, lingering moment.

  Then Harlan straightened, took a deep breath, and ran.

  The world blurred around him.

  He moved like the wind, no, faster. The ground shattered beneath his steps, splintering in his wake. His boots tore apart from the sheer force, but he didn’t slow.

  The leading edge of the fire golem horde loomed ahead. The center of the mass had been obliterated by the collapse of the ice wall, leaving a temporary gap in their ranks. Harlan aimed for that opening.

  The few golems in his path hurled fireballs, but they were too slow. He was already gone before their attacks could land.

  Harlan raised his arm. The signal. Ten seconds until the jump.

  From Blackwater, Mr. Liu raised his own arm relaying the signal to Billy.

  At the breach end of the gun, Billy stood with a [Fire Shot] primed in his hand. At the other end, Thomas braced the barrel against his shoulder, kneeling to adjust for the low-angle shot. Even with his enhanced abilities, Harlan could only jump so high. They had to compensate.

  Four seconds passed.

  Mr. Liu’s arm dropped.

  Billy ignited the powder.

  The gun roared, the shell tearing through the sky, trailing a brilliant ribbon of ice magic in its wake.

  The recoil sent the gun's breech slamming into the ground, embedding it in the dirt. The force blasted Billy off his feet, shattering his leg on impact. But Thomas took the worst of it.

  The sheer power of the shot hit him like a runaway locomotive. Kneeling, he had nowhere to go. The force tore through his body, shattering bone, pulping muscle. The raw ice magic coursed through him, freezing the mangled tissue instantly, making it brittle, causing it to shatter inside him.

  The only thing holding him together, for better or worse, was the nearly indestructible suit Mr. Liu had crafted for him.

  Mr. Liu watched in horror. The man who had been his friend, his protector, lay crushed beneath the barrel of the fallen gun. His gun.

  He sprinted to Thomas’s side, yanking out the small healing device, cranking the handle before injecting the healing magic into the injuries.

  Then again. And again.

  Over and over, he tried. Desperate. Despairing. But each time, the newly mended tissue turned black with frostbite, necrotic from the ice magic that had torn through him. It was killing him faster than any medicine could save him. But Mr. Liu refused to stop trying.

  Harlan, meanwhile, had reached the Volcano Titan.

  The heat blasted against his skin. The sheer presence of the thing made him feel small. Insignificant. He was staring at something vast and impossible, and for a moment, just a moment, he thought: What the hell am I doing?

  This was hopeless. What could he do against something like this? He was just an old man. No one would blame him for failing. Not against something like this.

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  And then the thought struck him.

  Emmett.

  Alone. Standing on the deck of a ship buried in the head of a sea monster. Staring down the goddamn Kraken before turning himself into a fireworks display.

  Harlan clenched his fists.

  If Emmett had it in him, then so do I.

  He gritted his teeth, bent his knees—

  And jumped.

  Harlan leapt into the air with all the strength his magic-enhanced body could muster. As he soared, he spotted the ice shell streaking toward its target. With a flick of his arm, he unfurled the sheet of asteroid iron and hurled it toward the Volcano Titan’s heat shield.

  The moment the iron ingots hit the invisible barrier, the rope binding them together ignited, turning to ash in an instant. But the iron itself clung to the shield, embedding into the unseen magic like a brand pressed against flesh. The ingots lingered there for a single, heart-stopping moment until the ice shell crashed into the middle of them.

  Harlan activated [Heat Vampire], sinking his will into the Titan’s shield, draining its strength. With [Magic Sight], he watched as the Titan instinctively redirected power toward the impact site, just like before. But this time, the magic slowed. Stopped. Retreated. The moment it neared the asteroid iron, it recoiled like a wounded animal.

  The shield faltered. A crack splintered through its surface.

  Then the ice shell burst through.

  It punched straight into the Titan’s abdomen, burying itself deep in the molten core. Ice exploded outward, spreading through the behemoth’s body from within.

  Harlan let out a raw, triumphant roar as he watched the Titan begin to freeze. But his elation was short-lived. Because in that moment, he realized just how much danger he was in.

  He twisted in the air, bracing himself, then bellowed [Breath of Fire]. A jet of flame erupted from his mouth, forcing his body into a midair pivot. He pushed, directing himself away from the Titan as the ice overtook it.

  Then the world collapsed.

  A thunderous whoosh drowned out all other sound as the Titan’s heat shield shattered. Without the magic holding it together, the pressure inside and outside the shield violently equalized creating a vacuum.

  And Harlan was caught in it.

  The force yanked him back, dragging him straight toward the freezing Titan. He clenched his jaw and tried to hold [Breath of Fire], but his lungs were burning, empty. The moment he gasped for air, the vacuum launched him toward the Titan’s rock-solid body.

  He hit it hard.

  The impact rattled his bones, but he forced himself to move, clawing for purchase against the black rock. Now that the heat shield was gone, he could hear the Titan’s pain, its deafening groans as ice devoured its body from the inside out.

  The ice spread fast. Too fast.

  Harlan gritted his teeth and braced his feet against the stone. Summoning all his strength, he kicked off the Titan’s body like a swimmer launching into a backstroke.

  Then, just before gravity could take hold, he roared [Breath of Fire] once more.

  The jet of flame blasted him away, propelling him toward Blackwater. Relief surged through his chest. Until he looked down at his foot.

  His boots had been torn to shreds from the run. His skin was bare.

  And the ice magic was already spreading.

  A jagged frost crawled up his leg, devouring flesh and freezing it solid. It spread so fast he didn’t even feel it. Panic shot through him, but before he could react, the cold reached his knee, dragging his leg into dead weight.

  His balance wavered. His body tumbled. He plummeted, hitting the ground just outside Blackwater in a bone-jarring crash.

  Pain shot through his chest, but he forced himself up. He tried to run. Tried to reach the others for help, but his frozen leg refused to move. He stumbled. Fell.

  He pushed himself up again. But the ice didn’t stop. It crawled across his abdomen, down his other leg, up his chest.

  At the cannon, Mr. Liu desperately worked to save Thomas, his small hands trembling as he forced healing magic into the broken man’s body. Billy forced himself up onto his good leg just in time to see the Titan being consumed by ice.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  Gritting his teeth, he knelt, clapped his hands together, and poured everything last bit of magic he had left into [Big Shot].

  He wouldn’t leave this up to chance.

  The last thing Harlan saw before his body froze was Billy’s attack. A massive [Ice Shot] streaking through the air, trailing frost and vapor. He watched as the spell slammed into the Titan’s unprotected chest, triggering a second explosion of ice.

  The two separate ice blooms met, fusing together. Amplifying. Accelerating.

  Harlan smiled.

  He had done it.

  He had saved Blackwater.

  Then the cold overtook him, and everything went dark.

  Billy woke with a groan, his head spinning, vision blurry. He lay still for a moment, waiting for his magic to replenish just enough to sit up without collapsing again.

  Then the sounds started to reach him.

  A low, heart-wrenching whimper. The kind that only came from an animal in distress.

  His stomach twisted. Ignivora.

  Beyond that, a voice. Frantic, pleading.

  “No, no, no, no, no…”

  Billy forced himself upright and turned his head.

  Mr. Liu knelt beside Thomas, his face streaked with tears.

  Thomas lay broken, trapped under the fallen cannon, his body shattered. His one remaining good arm trembled as he tried to squeeze Mr. Liu’s hand.

  Mr. Liu gritted his teeth, shaking his head furiously.

  “No, no, NO! I WILL NOT LOSE YOU!” He shoved more healing magic into Thomas’s ruined body, but it wasn’t enough. It was barely holding the damage at bay.

  Billy pushed himself to his feet, staggering toward them. His hands curled around the cold steel of the cannon barrel. He heaved with all his strength.

  It barely budged.

  Mr. Liu’s desperate gaze snapped to him.

  “Please. Please do something.”

  Billy clenched his jaw, his heart breaking. He knew this pain. Knew the helplessness of watching someone slip away. He looked around for anything that could help.

  His foot nudged something.

  He glanced down.

  A small, silver vial.

  It must have fallen from Thomas’s suit when he collapsed.

  Billy acted before he thought.

  He grabbed it, ripped the stopper out, and downed the liquid.

  The taste was revolting, worse than anything he had ever put in his mouth. But the moment it hit his stomach, the power surged through him.

  His body roared with strength.

  He gritted his teeth, bent his knees, and grabbed the cannon again. This time, when he pulled—

  It moved.

  With a grunt, Billy lifted the gun and shuffled sideways, dragging it off Thomas’s broken body before dropping it with a deep, earth-shaking thud.

  Mr. Liu immediately dove back in, forcing more magic into Thomas, his hands moving feverishly. But even with his skill, with his mastery of arcane engineering, it wasn’t enough.

  Billy could see it.

  This wasn’t working.

  Thomas was fading.

  Billy reached out, ready to tell Mr. Liu to stop, to let him go, to end his suffering before it got worse—

  But before he could speak, the sound of hooves thundered through the street.

  A team of white Percheron horses, their coats gleaming like polished silver, pulled a lavish white carriage into the ruined town.

  Gold trim gleamed under the midday sun.

  The carriage came to a slow, deliberate stop.

  The door eased open.

  Six identical men in perfectly pressed black suits stepped out, flanking the entrance like sentinels.

  Then the carriage lurched. Its suspension creaked as its final occupant stepped onto the dusty streets of Blackwater.