Renit is losing strength with every passing minute. We knew the crystal would have an effect on him; we knew it'd make him weak when the time came to alter Silas's version of reality, but Renit can hardly stand. We didn't think it'd take this much of a toll on his ability to remain conscious.

I lean over him, my arms braced underneath his arms to keep him upright. When his head falls forward, his hand slackening around a screaming Silas's, I shake him back awake. Blood streams from his nose and dribbles down his chin, and his body shaking in my grip unsettles me to the core. I don't want to see him fall; I won't let him fall.

Silas is still struggling. We've made some effort with the king's control over him, like a rope tied around his heart and tugging him in the direction of the castle, but his dark power still holds sway. Sweat beads along Silas's brow, and every time he throws his head back against the trunk of the tree, I wonder how many times he can do it before his skull cracks.

We're running out of time. The outside of my shield is hot—Bren's fire is near. Whatever he's using it for, whatever is out there, I hope he has enough strength to quell it. I hope Tesha is in the trees, climbing from branch to branch as silent as a phantom being and shooting down enemies within the split second it takes for them to realize she's there.

Binx has to be helping. He has to be. If he created an illusion, and it didn't work, that means the king has more than one witch of deflection amongst his army. More than the one guarding Silas's tower. He knew where we were headed all along and in a last-ditch effort to save the one key piece he had left in this fight, the king placed his most valuable soldier at the bottom and waited.

He couldn't be with Silas the entire time. In the hours he couldn't warp Silas's thinking, he kept a witch of deflection there to do the work for them. I have strong reason to believe there's another out there now, not the one Renit or I killed, but one that is still standing, walking, and directing the king's army in the correct direction of where Binx's illusion is casting.

I hope they're still alive. Every weak corner of my body is praying to the ancient witches that they're alive. We only have so much time if Bren's fire weakens and Tesha runs out of arrows. Weapons among witches can only do so much and with an entire army on our heels, we can't stand up to the test of them. Bren and Tesha, along with Binx, will fall.

When standing as one, in a line, our powers are strong. But against what the king has, rows and rows of endless soldiers, we're nothing more than dust in the wind. We'll be swept away with one wave of his hand.

Renit weakens again and I shake him back awake. Over his shoulder, I watch him blink himself back to reality and squeeze tighter onto Silas's hand. He's weak, Renit is failing. If this is what it takes to bring Silas back...no, I can't think that. It is worth it. I can bring Renit back from unconsciousness but I can't bring the crown prince back from the dead.

This is worth it.

The king's power continues to call Silas. The ropes have dug a considerably deep cut into his neck and blood streams into the collar of his tunic, but he's not fazed. At least his body isn't allowing him to feel the pain, or he does, and is doing whatever it takes to deal with it and the king's control at the same time.

He bit his tongue. Not only is blood covering him like a second skin over his neck, but it dribbles down from within his lips, coating them in a fresh layer of sickly paint. Through the thrashing and the screaming, Silas is doing more damage to himself than we ever could've done if he would just sit still.

I know the call of the king's command. The summoning tears a victim to shreds, it feels like every part of your body is going against you, and your organs are being ripped from your body—one by one. The dark circles underneath Silas's eyes are only getting darker, his skin is becoming slicker, his entire soul...hollower.

Through it all, Renit keeps the fresh cut over his palm clamped with his brother's. I can't tell the difference between what blood belongs to who; both their hands are covered in blood and it leaks down onto the patch of grass below them.

The ropes have maintained their hold over Silas's jerky movements. Although they stretch and fray around the edges, he can do nothing. And it's a miracle to think we got him here in the first place; we made it into the castle, only because the king didn't realize we'd be so bold as to do it without question. He didn't think we loved Silas enough to come for him.

This isn't the first time the king has been wrong. This isn't the first or the last time he has made a mistake.

He kept Renit alive after I asked him to. After he gave me the potion, he gave Renit the mercy of living and breathing in this world. That backfired. Because of keeping his son alive, the one he claimed to have no use for, we've possibly removed the secure foundation from underneath his plan and the king is falling, failing to grab onto a foothold. He doesn't have me; he doesn't have Binx; he doesn't have Renit, and now, he doesn't have Silas.

These key pieces are all people he needed in order for this to work, and with an entire army on his side, the king stands alone. Yes, he has soldiers that'll break their bones to please him, but he doesn't have anyone of significance on his side. No one. Everyone has turned against him and as a result, his security with a crown and a throne has faltered.

Silas's screaming drowns out my ability to hear. I can't drop the shield in fear of what might be on the other side, and I can't peek through the small cracks to view whether there is a war raging on the other side. It's too risky.

I continue holding onto Renit with burning arms until something cracks in Silas's voice, something changes, and his screaming changes. It goes from a scream to a groan, a gasp, a grunt for air and his thrashing slows. We're getting through. Just as Renit can hardly keep his head up anymore, the king's power is finally subsiding.

At the sudden change, Renit grips tighter and is able to support himself despite the incoming wave of weakness. He won't have time to recover if we do this, we'll need to depart from the woods as soon as humanly possible. The king...I doubt he'd allow his soldiers to do all the work. This is the final piece he has, he doesn't want to waste it.

I kneel in front of Silas as those whimpers and groans turn into a steady breath. He looks at me, and when he does, there's a strike of familiarity there. His eyes widen and the life to them that was severely lacking is suddenly returned. Then, as if someone struck him behind the knees, he grits his teeth together and screams once more.

The king's control is fighting back. "Come on, Silas," I plead. "You can do this."

I don't dare get closer; I don't dare cause a disruption between their connection. Renit is searching for my attention, but I won't meet it. He'll try to tell me it's not worth it, he doesn't have enough strength to do this, but I saw the flash of Silas there. Somewhere deep within, locked away behind a titanium door, the true crown prince is waiting. He's attempting to free himself, but without Celestine, we've chosen the most difficult route—and the only one—to take. With Celestine, he'd be here already.

I suppose that's why the king killed her. The weight on our part is everything in comparison to what it takes for him to create these soldiers. It's much harder to reverse rather than create another, and then another, and then another. We're too far behind. We'll never catch up, and we know that, but like my mentality the day Renit stormed Arego with more of the king's loyal subjects, I just want to save one. The most important one.

Renit braces his spare hand against the ground to keep himself supported. He squeezes his eyes shut and with one final rush of power, gives everything he has to swallow the king's control whole. Silas screams as if his brother's sudden influence is hurting him, but he doesn't thrash. He does nothing more than shake his head back and forth, sobbing through his teeth, and when he opens his eyes, staring out into the woods like he doesn't know where he is, I know we're close.

"A little more," I urge Renit. "He's almost there."

Silas is staring directly at me, not for a second tearing his gaze away from my own. "Please," he whispers from blood-stained, dry lips. "Please make it stop."

My heart shreds itself to pieces. The crown prince has never done a single wrong thing in his life and here he is, considered the worst of us all. Renit has done terrible things, so have I, but the king's control or persuasion didn't have as much of an effect on us. For Silas, the king became his entire world and as a result, he was gone. A changed witch.

I support Renit as he crumbles onto the ground but with one final gift from his power; he gives everything the crystal has granted him. As if a bolt of lightning is tearing through Silas's body and ripping apart the dark power within, the crown prince throws his head back against the trunk of the tree and screams. It's blood-curdling and his mouth, wide open, dribbles with blood and spit.

He sobs through his teeth and Renit finally releases, panting and knocking me over in the process. But it's done. It's done. While gripping tightly onto Renit to ensure he's all right, I watch Silas. His head hangs, but he's breathing and his eyes are open. Tears slide down his cheeks, his hair hangs over his face, and sweat dribbles from his brow.

"Silas?" I ask desperately. Renit's breath is unsteady underneath my hand on his back. But he turns to his brother to search for a response. A sign of life.

It takes all the strength in the world for Silas to lift his head. But he does, blinking at the both of us, grey eyes restored with the life I've been searching for since the moment he regained consciousness.

My voice is rough and scratched. "Silas?"

His bottom lip quivers, face crumbling. My hands slip from Renit's body and I slip free a dagger from the sheath at my hip and carefully cut the rope around Silas's blood-stained throat. He sobs, and once the rope is cut, granting him access to hang his head, he does.

As quickly as he has returned, Silas realizes everything he did. I don't want to be here when he remembers what he did to Celestine. Yet I have to; I must comfort him through this.

Renit doesn't stop me as I cut the rope around Silas's ankles, his entire body shaking with grief. The ropes around the rest of his body comes next and once those are peeled away and it's just the crumbled crown prince left behind, huddled against the tree trunk like a scared child, I scoot close, between his legs, and wrap my arms around his neck.

I don't know what else to do. How do you explain to a witch with such a big heart that he slaughtered so many people? Helped his father with so much bloodshed? I can't do it. I don't have the courage to do anything other than hold him tight and hope my embrace is enough to drive those inner demons away.

Silas sobs into my neck and to my surprise, even through the despair, his arms wrap tightly around me. Relief at seeing me again, not because he wants this comfort. After weeks of losing himself within the dark, Silas has come back and we're the first faces he has seen.

We did it. Whatever is on the outside of that shield doesn't matter right now. We got Silas back.