“Please.” I gasp for air and sink lower as the smoke thickens. “Help me. I need those prophecies. The Nightbringer—”

The Jaduna does not appear to be listening. She yanks me forcibly toward the stairs, but I dig my heels in.

“Stop!” I try to wrench my arm away. “The Nightbringer wants to set the jinn free.”

I babble, desperate for her aid. But she pulls me on, employing her magic, dragging me to safety with inexorable force.

“We Jaduna have no quarrel with the jinn,” she says. “Or the Meherya. His plans do not concern us.”

“Everyone believes that nothing concerns them until the monsters are knocking on their doors!” She winces at my shriek, but I do not care. “Until they are burning down your homes and destroying your lives and killing your families!”

“My responsibility is the Great Library, and that means getting you—and anyone else who is in danger—out.”

“Who the skies do you think is to blame for burning this place down? Isn’t that your responsibility?” As I say it, the smoke parts and something white barrels toward us with a precision that suggests a malicious consciousness. Efrit!

“Watch out!” I tackle the Jaduna onto her back, cringing as the wind efrit passes so close that the skin on my neck stings. The Jaduna rolls out from under me, tracking the efrit with cold fury. She crooks her fingers, rises and streaks toward the creature like a comet, her gown turning ice-white as she cuts through the flames and disappears. Immediately, I turn back to the shelf, but I cannot see it through the smoke. Gagging, I drop all the way to my hands and knees and crawl forward.

Laia. Is the whisper in my head? Or is it real? Someone in a dark robe kneels before me, peering down with bright eyes. It’s not really the Nightbringer. If it were, I wouldn’t be able to hold my invisibility. It’s a projection of some sort, or ghuls playing tricks on me. But that does not lessen my disgust—or my fear.

You’ll die here, choking on smoke, the Nightbringer says. Dead like your family. Dead for no reason at all, beyond your own foolishness. I did warn you . . .

“Laia!”

The image of the Nightbringer dissipates. The voice calling me is familiar—and real. Darin. What the hells is he doing here? Immediately, I spin about, scrabbling toward his voice as he calls my name again. I find him at the top of the stairs, half of which are now engulfed in flame. Bleeding fool!

I dare not drop my invisibility for fear of blacking out again, but when I am close, I call out and grab his arm.

“I’m here! Go, Darin, go back! I have to find something!”

But my brother latches on to me and drags me down the stairs. “We both have to go!” he shouts. “The second level is gone!”

“I have to—”

“You have to live if you want to stop him!” Darin’s eyes blaze. He uses all his force, and the third level is now a wall of fire behind me.

We barrel down the stairs, weaving through blazing hunks of fallen masonry and an inferno of burning embers. I flinch as they land on my brother’s bare arms, but he ignores them, pulling me down, down, down. A huge beam groans, and Darin only just lunges out of the way as it lands on the stairs with a thunderous crash. We are forced to go back up a few steps, and I inhale a lungful of smoke. My chest burns with pain, and I double over, unable to stop coughing.

“Put your arm around me, Laia,” Darin shouts. “I can’t see you!”

Skies, I cannot breathe—I cannot think. Do not drop the invisibility. Darin might not be able to carry you out of here. Do. Not. Drop. It.

We reach the second level, and the stairs are engulfed. Oh bleeding hells. I am a fool. I should never have come here. If I hadn’t, Darin would never have followed. Now we will both die. Mother would be so ashamed of me, so angry at my recklessness. I’m sorry, Mother. I’m sorry, Father. Oh skies, I’m so sorry. This is how Elias died. At least I’ll see him again in the Waiting Place. At least I will be able to bid him farewell.

Darin sees something I do not: a way through. He drags me forward, and I scream. The heat on my legs is too much.

And then we are past the worst of the flames. My brother carries me now, lifting me from my waist as my feet scrape against the ground. We burst through the burning front doors and into the night. Everything is a blur. I catch an impression of scaffolds and buckets and pumps and people, so many people.

Blackness engulfs me, and when I open my eyes again, I am propped up against the wall of a side street with Darin crouched in front of me, covered in ash and burns and sobbing in relief.

“You are so stupid, Laia!” He shoves me. I must be visible again, for he hugs me, shoves me again, and hugs me a second time. “You’re the only one I have. The only one left! Did you even consider that before running into a burning building?”

“I’m sorry.” My voice is hoarse, barely audible. “I thought . . . I hoped . . .” Skies, the book. I did not find the book. As the full impact of my failure washes over me, I feel sick. “The—the library?”

“It is gone, girl.” Darin and I both turn as a figure materializes out of the darkness. The Jaduna’s beautiful red dress is scorched now, but she still exudes a physical chilliness, winter encased in skin. Her kohl-rimmed eyes fix on me. “The efrits have done their work well.”