Chapter 4

N athaniel and I watch each other from across the clearing.

"Watch" is an empty word for it. We're not wary , exactly, or sizing each other up. It's that moment when you're both poised on a knife's edge, the moment in sharp focus, each an instant away from making a move that will plunge you into a contest of magic and wits against an opponent worth the effort.

I love moments like this. I thrive on them.

It's a pity I have to break it, but my intuition tells me fighting won't serve me in this instance. Or him.

Also, I saw how fast Nathaniel broke Destien's wand, and Destien was not exactly not on alert. And I'd strongly prefer to keep my new one.

"So," I say, back in English again. "Should I still call you Nathaniel?"

He studies me. "That depends on you."

Too many things that could mean. "I don't suppose you could be more specific?"

He snorts but to my surprise clarifies promptly, "Do you still want to associate with me?"

How could I possibly have enough information to make that judgment? It's not really what he means, though. I think.

"I was already aware that you were probably a spirit, but now I'm thinking you might be a little higher up the food chain than I'd realized. Is that going to cause me more problems than I already have?"

Nathaniel has gone still. "You knew?"

"I'm not stupid," I remind him dryly.

It sometimes feels like I have spent a lot of my life reminding people of this, in both worlds. I never fit neatly into what people expect from me, but it isn't—usually—because I don't understand what they think I should be.

In this case I clarify, "The timing of your initial appearance could only mean so many things."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Shadows swirl in his eyes, and he looks coiled, like more hinges on my answer to this than I know.

That's not impossible, honestly. I know a reasonable amount about the politics of High Earth—or at least, I knew how they worked ten years ago. But while some specific things will have shifted, given how long-lived grand magi are, the broad strokes will be similar.

But I don't know much about politics between the worlds, and I have just dropped myself into them with all the subtlety of a nuclear bomb.

A powerful spirit who keeps an eye on portals in Low Earth and is willing to intervene in a fight between mages not only knows more than me for certain, he's also probably my best source for advice. No High Earth mage is going to help me, no human in Low Earth knows more than me, angels don't come here, and most other spirits wouldn't risk themselves. They keep out of the way of humans—I haven't met one in years.

So I take another risk.

I lower my wand.

Then I stop watching him and go about my business.

I can still cast from this position, but this is... symbolic, and my heartbeat pounds loudly in my ears.

I talk over it.

"When I realized I couldn't trust everything I learned in High Earth, I gradually taught myself to question anything they taught me. You know they believe you're a lower lifeform, but they believe that of me, too. You just helped me when you didn't have to, and I'm not about to look a gift-demon in the mouth, as it were."

Nathaniel obligingly bares his teeth at me, and I bark a sudden laugh.

My heartbeat doesn't slow down, but it's a little easier to breathe.

"If you become my enemy, I'll fight you," I tell him. "I'm hardly going to lie down and allow you to kill me either. But I'm not going to assume you're my enemy until you've taken action against me. Right now, I don't know of any spirits or demons that fit that bill."

Nathaniel goes still. "And angels?"

My expression tightens. "Let's just say unpacking my biases is why I could counteract that plague spell but Evram couldn't."

When I start climbing my grove tree—wand still in hand, because I'm not risking that much—rather than asking me what I'm doing he calls after me, "What do you mean about the plague spell?"

I shake my head and keep climbing. "Your turn. You know all the most important things about me already. Tell me who you are."

Nathaniel doesn't answer immediately, but that's okay. I still have things to do, and while I'm not on quite the clock I was before since I broke Evram's wand—he won't be able to track me through it anymore, and since I have my own magic source I don't have to worry he can cut me off—the faster I can move the better.

Once he has a wand again, there are lots of problems he can create for me, and I don't have enough magic to stop him.

Yet.

I crawl out onto a low branch and break off a stick a little shorter than my arm. It hums with energy, and my chest is tight at the thought of what I'm doing.

This is how it begins. I hope.

I tuck it away in my back pocket without keying it to me.

I've located two more well-shaped sticks before Nathaniel speaks again.

"Those aren't for you, are they?" There's a note of wonder in his voice.

"I already told you my goal," I remind him.

Bringing back magic for everyone.

That means I'm not the only one who gets a wand.

Seated on a branch, I turn and say pointedly, "I'm still waiting on yours."

He holds my gaze.

And then to my absolute surprise, he answers me, and it's not anything I could have guessed.

"My name is Nariel," he says matter-of-factly, "and I was there when the other angels decided to steal all the magic from Dark Earth. I disagreed, and I've been exiled from Bright Earth since."

My mouth actually falls open. But I mean—

Holy fuck , he's a literal fallen angel.

This, I was not prepared for.

"I knew it," I breathed. "God damm it. Did they just want more power, or less competition?"

When I stopped believing that High Earth stole Low Earth's magic for anything but their own gain, I'd wondered if the angels they'd learned it from had also been as "selfless."

"You believe me, just like that." Nariel's tone is part suspicion, part bemusement.

"Look, the two stories I've heard about why Dark Earth lacks magic are that it doesn't have the capacity for it—which, given what I've learned about Low Earth, seems extremely suspect; or, that the angels took away Dark Earth's access to magic for the good of humans, to protect us from demonic power. Bright Earth's motivations not being pure, or at least not unassailable, makes too much sense."

"And so you're naturally skeptical of angels, but not of a demon who comes bearing tidings that fit neatly with your worldview?"

Sweet of him, to try to talk me out of falling in with a stranger's interests so easily, but I am still not actually stupid. And while I may be new to inter-world politics, I don't need that kind of coddling.

I will think the worst of whomever I choose, and I can also think well of whomever I choose, and on my own head be it.

I fix him with a look . "Did you not conveniently intervene at just the right moment in my battle specifically so that I'd be favorably disposed toward your point of view, or at least hearing you out? It will be much easier for me to help with whatever you want if you actually tell me—oh, of course. Fuck. You want to restore magic to Dark Earth too?"

In a blur of shadows, his face is next to mine in an instant.

I am some feet off the ground, so while I don't dare tear my gaze away from his, I have enough presence of mind to realize this means he is floating. Or maybe he's like a mountain goat.

It takes a great effort to not laugh in his face at that image, but I just manage.

Possibly I am getting hysterical. In my defense, it has been a day .

"Many would call that idea heretical, or at the least treasonous," Nariel says softly.

He's trying to scare me, and I am imagining him arranged sideways on a mountain with goats.

I need to take this seriously. It's tempting to think I can't possibly get myself in deeper shit than I already am, but—hmm, no, actually that's probably true.

That thought is both liberating and abruptly sobering.

So I lean in, and I don't blink when I say, "Angels aren't gods or rulers, and what magic one person can work, another person can unwork."

His eyes narrow. "You're not stupid. You know you should be concerned about the angels deciding you're a problem—" He stops. "No. The plague spell?"

"The plague spell," I confirm grimly, sitting back. Well, at least now I know for sure he's not stupid, either. Even if I didn't really expect him to catch up with me that fast. A fallen angel has a lot of time to practice making connections, I guess.

Hopefully my fallen angel being smart won't work against me?

Welp, I'm in trouble.

"Whoever caused that plague had access to angelic magic," I explain. "High Earth is so used to thinking of angels as... like benevolent gods, basically, that Evram must have looked over the key rune a thousand times and never really considered what it meant." I cock my head. "Come to think of it, insisting I resolve it myself did him a favor, because it preserves his relationship with the angels if they learn it was me who undid it."

"But it puts you already on the angels' shit list, if they were in fact directly involved," Nariel points out.

I shrug. "If they weren't, a High Earth mage managed to con their magic out of them, and while I'm sure you understand I have a high estimation of human abilities, that doesn't actually seem more likely to me."

The shadows in his eyes swirl again. "That's why you could solve the spell."

I nod. "Once I realized my world could absolutely hold magic too, the narrative that angels were Low Earth wizards' saviors—because in exchange for the spell to supposedly save our world, they required High Earth to train us so we learn how not to die—fell apart too, even if I don't know why they would require that otherwise." I pause, thinking through the implications of what little Nariel has told me. "Ah. Magic conveniently gathered into humans would make it easy for us to become a magic source for spirits, wouldn't it? That's why they want to make sure we learned to expel it."

Nariel watches me as he answers, "Yes. Spirits could eat you to power up. It's much easier than absorbing a little from the surrounding environment."

I have to ask. "Have you eaten many humans?"

He rolls his eyes. "No."

"Why not?"

"Have you enslaved many spirits?"

I open my mouth and close it again. Consider. "No. But not none. It was part of my training, and in High Earth I did whatever I was told even if I disagreed."

"And have you since you returned to Low Earth? You clearly had questions, and that would have been a way to get answers and power. Even if you could only bind a lesser spirit with the power available to you."

Does that mean I could theoretically bind him? Maybe not, if he's actually an angel. I'll have to think through the theory for longer than a second on that one. But a binding is technically a contract, and I can't imagine what I would have to offer for a demon of his power to agree.

"No," I answer. "The more I thought about the terms of the binding, the less I liked it."

Nariel nods. "And I have not eaten the flesh of any humans, but there have been occasions, either after battles with mages or when drained of magic near to the point of death, that I have in turn drained them of their magic and killed them."

I think about that for a minute, and he waits.

I finally ask, "So your first thought when you look at me is not that I'm food?"

His amusement this time is more obvious. "No."

I nod. "I'm delighted to hear that. Is it your second thought?"

My fallen angel grins again, and once again the sight of it zings through me. "What is it you Americans say? I plead the fifth."

I burst out laughing. Possibly that should concern me more, but I'm reasonably sure he's joking. Probably. "Duly noted."

Nariel leans back casually, still posed against the branches, and now that he's not quite as much in my face and looking all portentous his attractiveness is much more obvious.

Oh, who am I kidding? His ominousness was also extremely fucking attractive.

A smart, sexy fallen angel.

"This isn't your natural form, is it?" I ask suddenly. "Or do they cut off your wings when they exile you?" I purse my lips. "Sorry. That's a rude question, isn't it?"

Nariel's smile falls away, but he doesn't look ready to rip off my head. "Angels do cut off the wings of exiles, yes. They eventually grow back, but given how little magic there is in Dark Earth, they grow back differently."

I wait, and when he doesn't offer anymore I prod, "So you do look like this, except with wings?" Unfair, that he could potentially look cooler.

"I'd prefer not to shred this jacket with a display, if it's all the same to you," he says dryly.

I sigh dramatically for comedic effect, as I don't actually need to see a man who is this hot already, but without his shirt and with wings. I just want to, and my curiosity is a powerful thing.

But also, I'm getting the sense that he thinks his demonic wings are twisted, and scrutinizing him For Science may not be the most thoughtful way to respond.

And I'm stalling, anyway. Just because I've made enough difficult decisions today for a year doesn't mean I don't have to make any more.

I started this, and I'm the one who has to finish it, because no one else can or will.

I know what I want to do. Do it, self.

Do. It.

"In that case," I say, as if this request means nothing more than what it sounds like on its face, "since you can fly, can you help me retrieve some more proto-wands? There are some likely ones higher-up, but the branches get too thin to climb."

"You could use magic to get them," he points out.

"And I intend to, but if you're not going to pose for me I wouldn't want you to get bored before the next firefight."

Nariel flashes a quick smile I barely have time to not visibly react to.

A blink and he's gone.

A blink and he's back with another stick, exactly the right length.

He raises his eyebrows at me.

I glance up to see which one he took while my heart pounds, because he can definitely move fast enough to kill me if he wants to. I may have a wand, but my reaction time is not superhuman. The idea that I would have time to hex him if he tried anything earlier is now laughable.

Okay. The salient facts are:

1. Nariel is definitely a force to be reckoned with, but he might be willing to help me.

2. The angels will consider him an enemy, but they might also consider me one already.

3. He has his own goals for another world, but currently they're not only not in conflict with mine, they conveniently coincide. More magic in Low Earth can only be good for the spirits of Dark Earth.

4. Am I playing fetch with a demon?

Okay, that one's just my brain trying to keep me calm.

(But seriously. Sierra, absolutely do not ask him to fetch a stick for you. Don't do it.)

Can Nariel help me enough to make working with him worth the risks? I'm not going to get another shot at magic, and I know better than to trust that anyone else will have my back if it's not convenient for them.

But I have to assume that if he could have reversed what the angels did to Dark Earth, giving him access to a deep pool of magic again, he would have. He's interested in me because he needs me for something.

"Did you know the angels would exile you?" I ask abruptly.

The hand extending the stick to me lowers. "No."

"Would you have still objected if you had?"

"To the genocide of an entire world, whatever the crimes of a portion of them? I'd like to think so."

Angels and spirits have a greater capacity than humans to hold magic, but they also have to hold magic to live, while humans don't. Draining Dark Earth would have flat out killed most of the inhabitants.

But Nariel's look turns sardonic. "But the answer is no. If I had truly understood what it would be like to lose the magic I once had at my fingertips, to come so close to true death as a being who is immortal unless killed, to scramble merely to survive, broken and with nothing, in a world that considered me the enemy, I don't think my morals would have held up. You call yourself selfish for wanting magic at any cost, but at the first real opportunity you are already preparing to share magic with others. I assure you it would have taken me many more years after my exile to be willing to do the same."

Now he's matching my honesty. "And are you now?" I ask. "Willing to share magic."

"That's the wrong question," he purrs.

I raise my eyebrows. "If I'm giving you a front seat to bringing magic back for a bunch of humans you would then have easy access to, the answer to whether you're interested in throwing all of us over to feed spirits is actually pretty relevant to me."

Nariel rolls his eyes skyward, like he can't believe fate has brought him into this conversation with me.

Probably because if that is what he wants to do, he absolutely won't tell me so, no matter how open he's being generally. If I assume he is.

And, you know, that's fair, but I still want to know how he'd actually answer.

"The right question," Nariel says instead, "is whether you're willing to risk associating with me . You don't know yet that the angels will target you, but if they learn I am with you, they will target you for certain."

Ah. That I'm actually not worried about. "They can't easily intervene in our world, since Bright Earth is on the opposite end of the diamond. They won't go through Dark Earth, since there's no magic for them there, so they'd have to go through High Earth, who won't want to bring them in unless you're actively opposing them. Especially since I revealed to Evram that angelic magic was the core causing the plague, but also because they won't want the angels to think they're too weak to handle a Low Earth wizard."

"And if they do regardless?"

"I'm not much into genocide either. I am still waiting for you to tell me that I don't need to worry that you're planning on sacrificing Low Earth for your own purposes to save Dark Earth, though."

"Or out of selfishness? No." Nariel holds the stick out to me again. "I agree with you. Everyone should have free access to magic. I unknowingly staked my life on that once, and now I do so on purpose, every day."

Aha! " You have a plan."

To my surprise, not only does he confirm this with a nod, he actually, succinctly, tells me what it is: "My plan relies on convincing a host of spirits to sacrifice themselves to power a spell. I would prefer a plan less costly in lives."

"Yikes. No kidding."

"If you can bring magic back into this world first—"

"I can." My mind is racing. If we had magic back in Low Earth, and spirits could absorb more here to power themselves up—

I thought I was ambitious trying to save one world, but I can see the same gleam echo in Nariel's gaze.

Both of us are mad.

But both of us are willing to dream big, and put our actions where our words are.

That's why he stepped in when he did, before. At first, he was curious, but then when my back was to the wall I didn't give up my ground and told a grand magus with all the power in the world he had no right to keep magic from this world.

Nariel was testing me, and I passed.

But does he pass my test? Can I trust him?

I point up at a branch, using a bare trace of magic to make it glow. My heart aches at how easy it is. "Would you fetch that one for me, please?"

Sierra.

A second later he's in front of me, now with two sticks proffered. His eyebrows are up as he waits expectantly for me to tell him my decision.

That means I actually have to decide, and I don't have much time.

I want to believe, that's the shit of it. With magic in my hands again, and a person willing to have my back in a fight against High Earth, who will dare to dream with me.

But because I want to believe so badly, I don't trust my instincts. I have wanted to believe before, and have, and been burned, when it mattered the most.

Nariel saved me before, but I really don't have any way to know if he's just hoping I power myself up so he can drain all my magic dry again.

Then again—by the time that becomes a question, I'll have enough power to prevent him from doing so.

Well, maybe. I've never actually fought an angel. Even grand magi don't fuck with them, so that's probably not something I should be in a rush to try.

And even if Nariel is planning to use me like a battery—well, if I have access to all the magic in a world, I'll be able to share it with other Low Earth wizards. I'm already planning on that. Why not spirits?

What do I even know about spirits? Not much, honestly.

But I know how to learn, and it isn't by meeting up for coffee when there are no stakes.

It's seeing what he does when his back is to the wall, and for that I have to keep him with me.

Nariel is waiting for me to finish thinking this through, but the longer I consider the more I see the wild light fading from his eyes.

I want it back.

"The spell that High Earth teaches Low Earth wizards to use—"

"Wizards?" he interrupts. "Not magi?"

I shrug. "It's what High Earth calls Low Earthers who can use magic. I never used to use the term for myself, since I reject the principle that we're fundamentally different. But we are different, by the circumstances imposed on us, so I'm reclaiming it. We'll see if it takes."

"Wizards it is," Nariel murmurs. "So?"

"They teach us a spell to expel magic and send it straight to High Earth," I explain.

"You learned to modify the spell, to send magic into this grove."

"Yes, but that's not the point. Well, sort of. The point is that they've effectively taught me the rubric for how they're stealing this world's magic in the first place, along with enough theory to understand how it works. So I can also modify the spell to reverse it: All the magic that flows into their world from ours, I'll draw it right back in."

Nariel's eyes widen. For a moment, he is absolutely speechless.

God, that's satisfying. No one has appreciated what I can do for far too long.

"But as much as I love this grove, I can't do it here," I say. "For one thing, putting that spell into place is going to exhaust the reserve of magic I've built up here."

"Which the grand magus realized, didn't he?" Nariel asks shrewdly. "That's why he said you'll run out of magic."

"Yes, and since he figured that out, unfortunately once he has another second to think he's also going to realize I already have a plan for that. Because to keep High Earth from just reversing whatever spell I put in place, I'm going to need to anchor it in multiple places so they can't undo it all at once. Three is the fewest that will work, so that's what I'm aiming for to start. I can always expand it later."

If I have a later.

Evram also wasn't wrong that High Earth will now be trying to kill me, no matter what he personally might want—and I'm not sure he doesn't want it now, too. He's never really been sanguine about people who oppose him.

And High Earth can't let someone live who has proven she can and will cut off their surplus magic supply.

Nariel muses, "You need to anchor the spell in three power spots that have naturally gathered a substantial amount of magic on their own, even with High Earth's spell draining the vast majority of this world's magic dry. That's where I come in, then—a tour guide in your own world."

I snort. "No. I already know where the biggest power spots in this world are."

He blinks.

"I have been obsessed with accessing magic in this world for ten years ," I reiterate. "Do you really think I wouldn't go wherever I could find it?"

I have traveled... a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

There was never any reason for me to stay.

Nariel cocks his head. "Then I assume you have another role in mind for me, or you wouldn't risk telling me this."

I nod. "As soon as I expend a great amount of magic in one place, they'll find me. It's how they find Low Earth wizard kids in the first place. Which means, Mr. Hide-in-the-Shadows, what you can help with is getting me on site in stealth so that I don't have to expend magic in large quantities until it counts, because as soon as I do they'll be able to find me. Deal?"

I take the proto-wands from him.

Nariel smiles slowly, and my whole chest eases with it. "Deal."

It's not a binding oath, but what I really need to see is how seriously he takes a promise when it's not binding.

I take a breath. Bringing magic back into the world, making an enemy of all of High Earth and possibly the angels too: Here we go.

"Help me get a few more sticks, and let's get on the move."

I can control myself. This will be fine.

"And then where to?" Nariel asks. "Partner."

Partner.

What a world.

I smile wryly. "Stonehenge."