Good to see Jasper finally got the hang of fire, said Aaron.

Automotones staggered toward them again. The black fire of chaos had died down outside, and the mages were rushing at the tower, slamming at the closed doors below. The tower shook.

Alex was still screaming. He tipped his head back with a howl and darkness erupted from his eyes — two long trails of blackness that shot up into the air. Kimiya was screaming her head off. Tamara was on her feet, making a shield of air to protect her.

Alex turned his head to the side. He was surrounded by the Devoured on all sides. Black tears leaked from his eyes. He held out a hand. “Mother,” he croaked. “Mother.”

Anastasia staggered back from him, her face a mask of horror. Alex’s face worked, and one last bolt of chaos shot from his hand. It was weak — Call could feel its weakness — but strong enough. It hit Anastasia in the chest, lifting her off her feet and dropping her to the ground, a black hole seared across the front of her chest.

Alex went limp.

Now, said Aaron.

Call called on everything he’d ever learned about the soul tap and sent his concentration spinning toward Alex. He could see Alex’s soul, the glow and light of it, no longer blackened with chaos. He felt it, almost as though he held it in his hands, pulsing and sparking, wrapped around with cords of hate, ambition, and pain. Call could see the kid who had liked being popular, who liked being Master Rufus’s assistant, but who never felt like it was enough. He saw the kid who had crafted elaborate illusions out of movies, weaving in his friends and himself, always himself — as the winner, the victor, the person who got everything in the end. Call saw the part of Alex that had felt bereft when his father died, abandoned to a woman with her own agenda, her own obsession. He saw his ambition grow and bloom and twist. Saw his hatred of Call, his resentment, his desire to be the winner. Call saw all of that, saw Alex’s soul, whole and human and flawed.

With all his strength, Call braced himself — and tried to push it out of Alex’s body.

He felt a terrible echo in the deed. The body he lived in was stolen, and now he was stealing another. But even weak, Alex was a Makar and he fought back. He pushed, too, straining against Call’s consciousness, forcing Call’s physical body to his knees.

You will never defeat me, Alex’s voice declared, echoing in Call’s head. For a moment, Call felt uprooted, adrift. What if because he wasn’t born into his body, it was harder to stay in? What if he couldn’t hold on, even as Aaron left him behind? Panic started to bloom in his chest. The weight of Alex pushing back shoved him flat against the ground, his elbows braced, shoulders straining.

I can’t do this, he thought. I can’t.

Maybe one of us couldn’t, but both of us will, came Aaron’s voice, sure and strong. He joined his thoughts to Call’s and together they surged back at Alex, thrusting him loose from the bright lines that moored his soul to his body, pushing him out. Pushing him out into nothing.

The cords that bound Alex’s soul to his body frayed and snapped and he was gone, without even a scream or a cry. Call didn’t know where souls went — he guessed that no one did — but he was sure it was someplace far beyond the void.

Aaron, Call thought. Aaron, you have to go.

It was as if he could feel Aaron’s soul taking a shaking, hesitant breath. Call reached for Aaron one last time — for his counterweight, for the soul that was the most familiar in the world to him. It was as if his hands were brushing over Aaron’s soul, holding it for a moment, and letting it free.

Alex’s body jerked once, and he took a gasping breath.

Aaron, Call thought. Did it work?

But there was no response. There was only an echoing silence in Call’s ears. He was alone. He hadn’t realized how unused to being truly alone in his own head he was.

Sound smashed in as Call realized the battle had been raging on. The chaos dragon had eaten away another section of the tower. Dozens of mages had flown up to the tower’s second level, helped by Alastair and the power of air, and were joining Jasper and Tamara in battling Automotones. Greta, Lucas, and Ravan had also joined in — Greta was hurling rocks at the chaos elementals, Lucas was directing streams of superheated water at them, and Ravan was shooting bolts of fire.

Inside the tower, Kimiya had Anastasia cradled in her lap and seemed to be trying to keep her from dying.

Call staggered to his feet. “A-Alex?”

Alex opened his eyes. Kimiya gasped: They had returned to being blue, no longer black and star-silvered. Coughing violently and looking dazed, Alex pushed himself up onto his knees.

The gestures seemed familiar. He wasn’t moving like Alex did. He was moving like Aaron. He had his gestures. Call’s heart leaped into his throat. Was he imagining it, or had their plan actually worked?

Master Rufus came racing up the stairs and burst into the room; after him came Master North and Master Milagros. They stared at the scene in front of them — Anastasia dying, the Devoured still hovering in the room, the huge chunks torn from the walls.

And Alex, in the middle of it all.

“Alex!” Call cried. “Alex, stop the chaos creatures. Show them you’re on our side now.”

“Stop,” Alex shouted, in a voice that was both like his usual voice and different. “Stop, chaos creatures! I command you to stop.”

The dragon abruptly paused its movements. Automotones roared. From outside the tower there were more echoing sounds as the chaos creatures heard him.

“Go back to chaos!” Alex cried. “Return to the place you came from!”

More Masters were crowding up behind North, Rufus, and Milagros. They all stared at Alex, who stood with his hands flung out, ordering the chaos creatures to disperse.

“They’re going,” said Milagros in amazement. “Look!”

Through the smashed hole in the wall, Call could see the chaos creatures turn and retreat, Automotones leading the way. As they went, they seemed to shimmer and vanish, each one disappearing, leaving only smudges of darkness hanging like smoke against the sky.

The mages of the Magisterium were cheering. Ravan, Lucas, Greta, and Alastair had disappeared, probably worried that they wouldn’t be particularly welcome now that the immediate danger was over.

“Call. Come here.” It was Kimiya, gesturing him over urgently. Tamara was kneeling down beside her, summoning earth magic to heal Anastasia.

Call didn’t move to stop her. Nothing was going to help Anastasia now. She smiled at him, and there was blood on her teeth. “Con,” she whispered.

Tamara bit her lip, color flaring in her cheeks. She’d always hated it when Anastasia called Callum by Constantine Madden’s name.

“Con,” Anastasia said again. “I know what you did. I know.”

He reached out and took her hand, because he had never meant for her to be hurt. He’d never meant for anyone to be hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “Really, really sorry.”

“Sometimes, you’re nothing like my son was, nothing at all,” she said, then raised her voice. “Mages of the Magisterium, I have a final confession!”

Alex had sunk back down onto his heels.

“It was I who controlled Alex,” said Anastasia, and the whole room of mages stood breathless and silent, listening. “It was I who controlled everything — not Master Joseph, not Constantine Madden, me. They were all my pawns. You were all my pawns.”