He closed his eyes.

Something pushed him from behind. He went sprawling, rolling over in the grass. The bolt of light missed him by inches — he felt something sear his cheek as he tumbled forward and over — and then, fetching up on his side, he raised his head and saw it strike Aaron in the chest.

The force of it lifted Aaron off his feet and sent him flying. He crashed down in the grass several feet away, his eyes wide-open and glassy, staring at the sky.

“No,” someone said. “Aaron, no, no, no!” Call thought it was his own voice for a second, but it was Tamara’s. She was sprawled in the grass next to him.

She’d been what hit him. She’d knocked him out of the way of the Alkahest. She’d saved his life.

But not Aaron’s.

Call touched his cheek. It burned. Maybe the Alkahest had only burned Aaron, too. He tried to get to his feet, to go over to Aaron, but his legs wouldn’t hold him. Instead, he reached out toward Aaron with all his senses.

He remembered what he had felt before when he’d touched Aaron’s soul. The sense of life, of something existing in the world, bright and solid.

But there was nothing there now. Aaron was a shell. His soul was gone, leaving only the shining shadows of Aaron-ness remaining.

Call whirled on Alex, who had torn the Alkahest from his arm. Of course — now it could hurt him, too. Now he had Aaron’s power. He almost seemed to be pulsing, like a star about to go supernova. His skin was shimmering and rippling with bands of light and dark.

“Power,” Alex gasped. He raised his hand, blackness coiling around it like smoke. “I can feel it. The power of chaos, running through me —”

“Not if I can help it,” Call said, flinging out his hand. A bolt of black light shot from his palm toward Alex. He was sure it would kill him, send him screaming into the void.

He was glad.

The spear of magic flew toward Alex. His hand went up, and he caught it. He stared at it wonderingly for a second and Call stared, too, a sick feeling in his stomach. Alex was a Makar now. He could control and manipulate chaos. And he was a better, older, and more experienced magician than Call.

Then he screamed. Out of nowhere, Havoc had slipped out of the dark and sunk his teeth into Alex’s leg.

Alex flung chaos, but Havoc was too quick for him, darting away, still growling. He lunged again, and this time Alex didn’t have a chance to react: Havoc knocked him to the ground, his teeth ripping at Alex’s shirt.

“Get it off me!” Alex screamed. “Get it off me!”

Several of the hooded figures raced up; Havoc released Alex, who staggered to his feet, bleeding from several places. His skin was still rippling, his face twisting. Call remembered how it had been for him in the tomb, when his chaos magic had manifested. How out of control he’d felt, how sick.

Alex flung a hand toward Havoc, but this time the magic that exploded from his hand went haywire. Darkness spilled out in all directions. It poured out in tendrils that rose up into the air and clouds that reached toward the sky. Where it touched, things began to come apart. One of the Order of Disorder houses collapsed as chaos ate away its foundations. Three nearby trees were devoured whole. The ground itself became pocked as pieces of it were lifted away into the void. Two of the masked figures screamed as they were swallowed up before the chaos dissipated.

Alex looked down at his hands, horrified and yet clearly amazed, too. “Get the Alkahest!” he said hoarsely to one of his remaining minions. “We need to get out of here!” He looked at Call for a moment, then curled his lip.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Alex hissed, and rushed from the clearing, his surviving followers beside him.

Call barely even cared. He turned back around to see Tamara crouched over Aaron’s still body. She was sobbing, her whole body shaking, nearly bent in half. Havoc crept over to her, nuzzling at her shoulder with his black nose, but she kept crying, her face wet with tears.

Call didn’t even feel his feet move, but he was there, dropping down next to Aaron, across from Tamara. He touched Aaron’s hand, the hand he’d gripped only moments ago. It was cold.

Tamara was still crying softly. She had knocked Call out of the way of the Alkahest. She had saved his life.

“Why did you do it?” he asked suddenly. “How could you do that? Aaron was the one who was supposed to live. Not me. I’m the Enemy of Death, Tamara. I’m not the good one. Aaron was.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “I know,” she said, tears in her eyes. “But, Call —”

A cry came from above what was left of the village. “There!” someone shouted. Among the trees, Call could see floating spheres. The mages had gone looking for them after all, just like they’d looked for Drew that night. And they’d been too late again. Always too late.

Master North, Master Rufus, Alma, and several other Masters ran into the clearing. North and the others were gaping around at the devastation, at the chunks of earth that were simply gone, the collapsed houses and destroyed trees. But Rufus — Rufus was looking at Aaron. Pushing aside the others, he rushed to Aaron’s body, falling to one knee to feel for a pulse.

Call knew he wouldn’t find one. There was no Aaron anymore. No counterweight to his own soul. Just this feeling of emptiness, the feeling that something had been ripped away from him that could never be replaced.

He understood now how Constantine Madden could have wanted to tear down the world once his brother was gone.

Rufus closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped. He looked old to Call in that moment, old and broken.

“What happened here?” demanded Master North. “It looks like there was some sort of battle.” He frowned at Call. “What did you do?”

Rage exploded inside Call’s head. “It wasn’t me!” he shouted. “Alex Strike and his — his minions! He has the Alkahest and he killed Aaron. You’re letting them get away! Aren’t you supposed to be the teachers? Stop them!”

“No!” Alma said, striding toward Call, eyes shining. She pointed one long finger at him. “I didn’t see it at first, but now I see you, Constantine. You killed Aaron. You engineered all of this to hide your crimes, including the murder of Jennifer.”

Call’s eyes went wide. She couldn’t be saying what it sounded like she was saying. He didn’t even know how to answer her. He couldn’t, not with Aaron’s body next to him.

“Be quiet,” Master Rufus told Alma, surprising Call. “It’s obvious there was a battle, but we have no reason to think Call’s lying. And even if he was, Tamara was here as a witness.”

“Call’s right,” Tamara put in. “It was Alex Strike. It must have been Alex all along.”

Alma shook her head. “Don’t believe either of them! Haven’t you wondered how Callum controlled that Chaos-ridden animal beside him? Or how he defeated the Enemy of Death himself? Or why he wasn’t a Makar when last year began, but how he became one at the exact moment Constantine was supposed to have been killed? Now we have the answer. Constantine put his soul into Callum Hunt. You are looking at a monster in the shape of a child. I saw him put chaos into a soul and create one of the Chaos-ridden. I know what he is!”

She was raving, Call thought. No one was going to believe her. But no one contradicted her, either.