Page 185 of Storm Caller

We circle higher, staying ahead of the flood, the water receding behind us. I wonder how high it will go. Will we lose everything below the surface? More than that?

Thankfully, the train platform is now devoid of people. They must’ve headed to the surface when the power went out, seeking light. At least we don’t have to worry about them drowning in the tunnels. I can’t handle any more death.

When we emerge from the train station, emerald clouds swirl in the sky while a light drizzle continues to fall. I spot the first hints of amethyst streaking over the horizon, and I wonder if an Empire Storm is also brewing. Sometimes they can occur together, though it’s rare. Seems fitting that it might happen on a night like this.

Despite the numerous people crowding the streets, it’s so quiet.

Like everyone is terrified of shattering the careful balance of the very atmosphere.

I peer up at the darkened buildings. The windows are like a thousand blank eyes watching us. A shiver rolls down my spine, and not from the cold.

The streetlamps sit like dead soldiers, lining the walkways.

I’ve never seen New Manhattan like this.

Like its very heart has been scooped out, leaving only an empty husk.

Maybe I understand why they did it.

Maybe I understand why they were trying so hard to protect this.

Raine’s sleeping face flashes in my thoughts, and my stomach heaves.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t excuse what they’ve done. I imagine the Keepers in those watery graves, all dying one last time. I don’t have words for it. There is no sentiment adequate enough to express what we saw in that room. It feels like I’ll spend the rest of my life trying and failing to wrap my head around what was done to those people.

We need to find a way to honor them. Give them the dignified deaths they were robbed of.

They gave up their lives without being asked, all so the rest of us could live.

In the distance, I hear the clash between the Veil and New Manhattan. They probably haven’t noticed the power outage beyond the rock wall yet.

Rook walks beside me, his gait still unsteady, his cold hand clamped around mine. He’s still weak, but he clearly doesn’t want anyone to notice. Navy and Justin walk on his other side as they catch him up on everything he missed, including the death of their brother. I sense their pain as they fall into silence. I hope they will get the chance to grieve properly soon.

My father walks behind me, his presence like a shadow I can’t escape.

I don’t know what to say to him anymore. I don’t know why he’s still here. What does he want?

Finally, we arrive back at the Fog’s headquarters.

We head upstairs to find Edward and Ada at the computers, where they’ve hooked up a generator. She’s leaning over him while he types away, and they speak in low, hushed voices.

They both turn around as we enter. Edward pushes up from his chair, crosses the room, and throws his arms around Rook. “So glad to see you, man,” he says.

“Where are the others?” Ada asks.

“Somewhere behind us,” Henry replies. “When the power went down, we were separated.”

“Tell me what happened?” she asks softly, probably sensing that we’re all dealing with a bunch of collective trauma that will haunt us for a very long time.

“It was horrible,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t believe . . .” I look at her. “Did you have any idea?”

“None at all,” she says. “If I’d known . . .” She stops and turns back toward the computers. Though she’s trying to hide it, I notice her wiping away a tear. She created the Fog to help people like her partner, but she never truly understood what she was up against.

“What’s done is done,” she says with a sniff. “The important thing is that we are no longer in the dark, relatively speaking. You’ve stopped it.”

“For now,” I say. “What’s to say they won’t find us, kill us, and do it all over again?”