The screaming finally stopped. In the center of Haven’s Drop, the air was hot and still. The black smoke from the "Blight-Erasure" had blown away, leaving only a strange, silver dust on the ground. The thirty-nine volunteers had gone through the fire, but not all of them were standing.Elijah lay in the metallic sand near the base of his throne. His neck felt like it was made of broken glass. When the Seventh Sister had snapped the doll in the sky, Elijah’s body had reacted as if his own bones were being crushed. His obsidian skin was cracked, and his golden blood was pooling in the sand. He was the Lord, but he was a Lord who was currently broken.But he was not the only one on the ground.Marcus lay just a few feet away from Elijah. For ten minutes, Marcus had been a storm of black smoke and purple fire. Now, he was quiet. Steam rose from his body in thin, white curls. The glass-blue skin he once had was gone. It had not just changed color; it had changed its very nature.Marcus

One by one, the others began to manifest their weapons. Elena created two short daggers that hummed with a purple light. Silas’s nephew, Leo, created a curved sword that looked like a moon made of ash. They were learning. They were starting to realize that their bodies were just containers for the darkness.But Marcus was not happy with his giant blade. He felt something else inside him. He didn't feel like a sword. He felt like a wall."Mistress," Marcus said, looking at Lyra. "The shadow... it doesn't want to be sharp for me. It wants to be heavy.""Show me," Lyra said.Marcus dropped his black glass sword. It turned back into smoke before it hit the sand. He stood in a defensive stance. He didn't look at his hands. He looked at the air in front of him.He thought about the "Erasure Light" of the Archons. He thought about the people he had failed to protect. He felt a sudden, hot need to stand in the way."Harden!" Marcus roared.He pushed his hands forward. The ozone fog in front

The bridge was a skeleton of rusted iron, stretching across a dark river. Elijah stood at the very top of a bent support beam. His six wings were hidden, but the gray fog of his power still leaked from his skin. He looked toward the city of Empire’s Reach.On Earth, a city in the middle of a war usually looked dark. It usually looked broken. There should have been smoke. There should have been the smell of rotting meat from the Ever-Blight. But as Elijah looked at the city, he saw something else. Empire’s Reach was not dark. It was glowing.Elijah took a step off the bridge. He did not fall. He slid through the air, his boots landing softly on the cracked pavement of the highway. He began to walk toward the city gates.The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was not the smell of rust or mud. It was a thick, heavy perfume. It smelled like a thousand roses being crushed at once. It was so sweet it made Elijah’s throat feel tight. It was a Holy smell, designed to make people feel

The square of Empire’s Reach was a lake of white silk and golden light. Thousands of humans stood there, their eyes fixed on the massive silver statue in the center. The Aether-Vines pulsed with a soft, warm rhythm. To any human from the outside world, this place looked like heaven. There was no mud. There was no blood. There was only the sweet smell of roses and the feeling of a warm sun that never went down. Then, Elijah walked in.He was a crack in the mirror. His skin was the color of burnt wood and cold ash. His right eye was a burning gold sun, and his left eye was a hole into the deep night. He wore a torn blue cloak that smelled like ozone and old metal. Everywhere he stepped, the silver grass turned black. The shadows around his feet didn't move with the light; they crawled toward him like loyal dogs.The humans near the edge of the square noticed him first. They didn't scream. They didn't run. They simply stopped their slow, happy walking and stared. To them, Elijah was

The city of Empire’s Reach was no longer a city of gold. It was a city of ghosts. The Aether-Vines that had covered the skyscrapers were now black and brittle. They looked like burnt hair clinging to the stone. The beautiful perfume smell was gone. In its place was the sharp, stinging smell of sulfur and the heavy scent of old mud. The artificial Holy Light had been sucked away when Elijah pulled the World-Heart Fragment from the statue. Now, the sky was a bruised purple, and the darkness was creeping back into the streets.Camael, the two-winged angel, was no longer a god. Without the Life Essence of the humans to feed him, his pale gold wings had turned a dull, dirty gray. He was small. He was pathetic. He tried to crawl away across the silver grass, his wooden crook broken in two.Elijah walked toward him. Every step Elijah took made the ground vibrate. His obsidian skin was still cracked, and the golden blood was glowing in the dark. He looked like a nightmare that had come to