Chapter 45

The forest was quiet.

Too quiet.

Edgar sat on a fallen tree, staring at the scorched earth where the ritual circle had been. His sword lay across his lap, hands limp over the hilt, fingers streaked with ash.

Sebastian’s name sat in his throat like a stone.

No one spoke.

Not Magnet Man, who leaned against a boulder, armor cracked and bloody.

Not the Professor, who crouched near the broken runes, running trembling fingers over the fractured symbols.

Not Seraphine, who sat cross-legged on a log, polishing her pistols with a faraway look in her silver eyes.

It was over.

But it didn’t feel like a victory.

Night fell slowly.

The fire crackled in the middle of camp, but no one huddled close.

Edgar felt Magnet Man’s eyes on him.

“Wasn’t your fault,” the cyborg said at last, his voice low, rough. “He made his choice.”

Edgar’s jaw tightened.

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Professor approached, cloak dragging in the dirt, face pale.