Wistfulness flashes across her face, but can’t settle onto her drawn, tired countenance. I hook an arm around her waist and her head sinks onto my shoulder.

My eyes fall to Jost, but he turns away, not even offering a hello. If he’d had doubts about where my relationship with Erik was heading, he doesn’t anymore. I don’t blame him for not looking at me. I can’t change any of it though, so I trudge forward. Dante nods awkwardly at me. He might be able to pull out his parental feelings in jest, but he can’t express them now.

“Have you found the entrance to the prison yet?” Erik asks.

“We’ve been looking for you,” Jost says. His voice, though weary, lacks recrimination.

“You’ve found us. Let’s go,” I say, finding myself energized by proximity to our destination.

“Ad.” Jost catches my arm and draws me to the side. “I’m glad you’re safe. Both of you.”

We shift awkwardly and I think he might hug me, but he doesn’t. Instead he gives me a small smile before he turns back to our mission.

The island is dark, no light shining from the wind-beaten watchtower. Without the sun, the only light comes from the stars and a crescent moon perched in the dusky sky. The silhouette of the fortress grows larger as we draw nearer. It should intimidate, but all I feel is the tug of familiarity. Stone walls that reach to the sky, a well-placed turret. It’s not so different from the Coventry, except this prison has windows—something the Guild didn’t permit us. But even with windows, it looks impossible to escape this place.

A variety of buildings dot the perimeter, but they are as silent as death. Save for the occasional dancing light that disappears as soon as I turn to follow it, there’s no sign of life.

“What if no one’s here?” I ask Dante.

“Then we keep looking,” he assures me, but there’s doubt seeping into his words. Perhaps he’s starting to understand the role of a father after all. He’s trying to offer me comfort and assurance even if it’s a lie.

If Alcatraz is abandoned, where we will start? I know it will come to a decision: keep looking or reenter Arras through the loophole to save our families. For the first time, standing on the brink of discovery, I face the possibility of returning. I know I can’t—won’t—go back. I can’t choose Amie over an entire world, and I buoy myself against the ache of that realization, because if I let myself feel it, I’ll shatter on the spot.

The yard is enclosed by a concrete wall and foreboding-looking wire loops across the top. We circle the perimeter for a long time before we find a loading dock that leads us to an entrance.

“I thought there would be more security,” Jost notes. He takes a few steps forward so the handlight’s beam travels to the front of the prison.

“Yeah, this place looks dead,” Valery says in a small voice. “Maybe we should turn back.”

“No,” I say firmly. “This place is huge. We won’t know anything until we get inside.”

Valery whimpers her acquiescence. Dante draws a gun from its holster and hands it to Erik. Jost already has one.

“If something happens, the best thing you can do is warp us some safety,” Dante tells me.

The thought stops me cold. Even with practice, I’ve barely been able to control my grasp on Earth’s wild strands. If I choose the wrong one, I could sever one of them. I could bring Alcatraz tumbling down on us.

Dante stops and places a hand on my shoulder. “You can do it, Adelice. You’ll have to.”

We snake through the entrance, looking for a way inside the prison. We’re about to give up when a creak puts us on high alert. No one moves in the group, but as the seconds tick by it seems more likely that we’re dealing with the wind and nothing more. The entrance empties into a small sally port like the ones used in the Icebox safe house. The door on the other side is unlocked. If the Whorl was here, they wouldn’t allow such lax conditions. My heart sinks right as a gunshot whistles by and buffets along the walls behind me. I’m so taken aback that I don’t react until Dante shoves me to the ground, his other arm swinging his gun into position in front of him. The crack of bullets bounces around the large concrete enclosure and I snap to, willing myself to see the wild fabric of the universe. To my surprise it comes into focus easily and I realize we’re not dealing with a vacant, decrepit building. The prison has been reinforced against both nature and time.

The strands of time don’t flash with the inconsistency I’ve grown accustomed to. They aren’t wild, but rigid and set, making them easier to see and harder to manipulate. But it’s amazing what adrenaline can do and I wrench a long, thick strand from its locked position and ruffle it in my hand. The effect is instantaneous, the warp blocking a shot just in time. The bullet ricochets off the strands, skittering across the floor. From a distance I see the guard who’s shooting at us peek out from behind a concrete pillar, confused by what’s happened. It’s the opening we need, and Dante fires around the warped spot, hitting him in the shoulder. The guard’s gun clatters to the floor and he falls back. Alive, but stunned.

Scrambling to our feet, we rush at him. Erik grabs his gun, tucking it into the waistband of his pants.

“Where are the others?” Dante demands, pressing the muzzle of his gun to the wounded man’s temple.

“There are none,” the guard splutters. “Only me.”

“We’ll find them,” Dante threatens.