A bolt of white light split the sky. It was not lightning. It was the sound of a god screaming. The spire of the Zenith Tower shivered as the energy loop collapsed. The blue fire that had promised a world without pain turned into a jagged spear of heat. It tore through the steel. It melted the glass. It erased the name Vesper from the clouds in a final. blinding flash.
Vane pulled himself over the jagged lip of the observation deck. His lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass. Every breath was a jagged reminder that he was no longer an eternal being. He was a man with a pulse. a man with a deadline. His fingers were raw. His fingernails were torn. but he did not stop.
He saw her.
Clara lay slumped against the base of the broadcast array. She was a small. broken figure in a world of twisted metal. The silver knife was still clutched in her hand. fused to the cable by the sheer heat of the discharge. Her skin was coated in a fine layer of silver dust. the remains of Julian's ledger. She looked like a statue cast in lead.
"Clara." Vane's voice was a ghost of a sound.
He crawled toward her. dragging his legs. The blue fire was gone from his veins. The cold had returned. The wind at this height was a predatory thing. biting at his ears and nose. He reached her side and pressed his fingers to her neck.
Nothing.
He pressed harder. desperate for the rhythm that had defined his new life. He leaned his head against her chest.
Thump.
It was weak. It was distant. It was the sound of a heart trying to remember how to beat in a world that had just been reset.
"Stay with me." Vane whispered. He wrapped his arms around her. pulling her cold body against his. He didn't have magic to give her. He didn't have the light of the well. He only had the heat of his own skin. He shared it until he was shaking with the cold.
The spire groaned. With the anchor gone and the transmission severed. the structural integrity of the tower was failing. The top ten floors were leaning toward the east. The sound of shearing bolts echoed like gunshots in the night.
"Vane?"
Clara's voice was a thin thread of sound. Her eyes fluttered open. The brown of her pupils was cloudy. shadowed by the silver ash.
"I'm here."
"Did we... is the light gone?"
"It's gone. Clara. The city is dark."
She looked at the silver knife in her hand. She tried to open her fingers. but the metal had welded to her palm. She didn't scream. She didn't have the energy for it. She just looked at the weapon that had saved a million souls and cost her a piece of herself.
"Julian?"
"Gone into the wind." Vane said. He looked over the edge. The clouds had swallowed his brother. There was no trace of the Silver Ledger. No trace of the spare heir.
"We have to get down." Clara coughed. A spray of silver dust hit her lips. "The building is moving."
"I can't carry you. Clara." Vane looked at his hands. They were trembling. The strength that had allowed him to climb the spire was gone. He was a man of two hundred years caught in a body that was rapidly realizing its age.
"Then we crawl." Clara said.
She used her good hand to grip Vane's sleeve. Together. they dragged themselves across the tilting deck. They reached the service hatch just as the spire began to buckle. A section of the roof slid off into the abyss. disappearing into the fog below.
They dropped into the maintenance tunnel. sliding down the dark chute like discarded trash.
They hit the floor of the eighty eighth floor. The executive suites were a graveyard of luxury. The velvet chairs were shredded. The mahogany tables were splintered. In the center of the room. the Sin-Eater stood waiting.
He looked older. The teeth around his neck were yellow and cracked. He held a lantern that burned with a steady. warm orange flame.
"The ghost and the girl." the Sin-Eater said. He didn't offer a hand. He just watched them with eyes that had seen the end of a dozen empires. "You did more than kill the light. You killed the expectation. The city doesn't know what to do with its freedom."
"Let them figure it out." Clara said. She leaned against a shattered marble pillar.
"The Hollow didn't vanish with Julian." the Sin-Eater warned. "The shells are dead. but the idea is alive. There are people in the Underbelly who liked the blue fire. They liked the lack of choice. It was easier than being hungry."
"Where's Jax?" Vane asked.
"He's at the clinic. He took a feedback loop to the brain when the spire blew. He'll live. but he won't be hacking anything for a long time."
Vane looked at the Sin-Eater. "Why are you here? You don't do anything without a price."
The man smiled. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small. heavy object. It was a fragment of the Silver Ledger. A single. scorched page made of hammered mercury.
"I'm a collector of remains." he said. "The Vesper line is officially over. But the power you released has to go somewhere. It's in the water now. It's in the soil. The city is going to change. Vane. People are going to start waking up with things they don't understand."
"What kind of things?" Clara asked.
"Gifts. Curses. The static of the old world." The Sin-Eater turned toward the stairs. "The Scavenger Queen and the Fallen King. You two are the only ones who know the truth. That makes you the most dangerous people in the city. And the most hunted."
"We aren't kings or queens." Vane said. He looked at Clara. He saw the silver fused to her hand. He saw the fire in her eyes that even the ash couldn't dim. "We're just the people who survived."
The Sin-Eater vanished into the smoke of the stairwell.
Vane led Clara toward the hidden elevator that led to the ground floor. It was a manual lift. powered by a simple pulley system. It didn't rely on the pact. It didn't rely on the well. It was a relic of a time before the Vespers became gods.
They descended in silence.
When they reached the street level. the Underbelly was waiting.
It wasn't a riot. It was a vigil. Thousands of people stood in the rain. They were holding candles. some held flashlights. They were looking at the tower.
When they saw Clara and Vane emerge from the rubble. a path opened. Nobody spoke. Nobody cheered. There was only the sound of thousands of boots on wet pavement.
A man stepped forward. It was Clara's father.
He looked smaller than she remembered. He looked like a man who had spent his life waiting for a debt that he couldn't pay. He looked at Clara's silver-stained hand. He looked at the man standing beside her.
"Clara." he said.
"The debt is gone. Dad." she said. Her voice was cold.
"I know."
"I'm not coming home."
Her father looked at Vane. then back at his daughter. He saw the woman she had become. She was no longer a scavenger. She was the one who had closed the book.
"Where will you go?"
Clara looked at Vane. He was standing in the rain. his hair plastered to his forehead. He looked like a man who had just been born.
"We're going to the North District." Clara said. "I hear there's a market where a ghost can disappear."
Vane took her hand. The silver metal against his palm was cold. but her skin was warm. He felt the pulse in her wrist. steady and strong.
They walked through the crowd. The people of the Underbelly watched them go. They were looking for leaders. but Clara and Vane didn't offer any speeches. They didn't offer any promises.
They reached the edge of the district. The ruins of the Zenith Tower were a black shadow behind them. The sun was beginning to rise. but it wasn't the red light of the ritual. It was a pale. honest white.
Vane stopped. He looked at his hand. The skin was aging. The fine lines of time were appearing on his knuckles.
"It's happening." he said.
"What?"
"Life." Vane looked at her. "I'm going to grow old. Clara. I'm going to get sick. I'm going to die."
Clara smiled. She reached up and touched the new lines on his face.
"Good." she said. "I'd hate to be the only one."
They turned the corner and vanished into the sprawl of the city.
But in the shadows of the Zenith ruins. a small. silver-stained hand reached out from the rubble. A blue light flickered once. then went dark.