Daedalus rose to his knees with a wince as soon as the cell door slammed shut. Outside, footsteps faded as the Rex and eidolon departed.

He shuffled over to his twin as Domi, sprawled on the white floor where the Rex had flung him, rolled over and spat blood. The Rex had backhanded each of them before tossing them, wrists bound behind their backs, into the cell to await execution.

"Are you all right?" Daedalus asked. His jaw and mouth throbbed, and he probed his stinging lip with his tongue, tasting salty warmth.

His brother nodded against the floor, nose streaming crimson against blue skin, then sat up with a pained furrow of his brow. Under both eyes, Domi's skin was already starting to darken from the harsh blow.

"I'm fine," Domi murmured, hunching forward to wipe his nose on his paenula's hood. More blood flowed as he gave a bitter laugh. "The Rex hits like an old man."

Daedalus offered a weak chuckle. The Rex hit like a starholder, not an old man, but the defiant joke still helped clear away some of the shock leaving him reeling after the violence. Never in his life had anyone struck him, but Decus's face had been filled with nothing but disgust and cold fury as the old man raised his fists. Daedalus was not sure the Rex saw the two of them as people anymore.

Part of him understood, though. Not long ago, similar thoughts had crossed his mind when he first beheld his Blended father. Ausus had seemed utterly alien, a terrible, nightmarish aberration. What uneasy fears flowed through Decus's mind after beholding their strange transformation?

Domi rose awkwardly onto his knees, squirming with a pained grimace.

"Are you sure you are well?" Daedalus asked, worry pricking deep. He bit his sore lip as his twin, face twisting, writhed. "Domi!"

Wincing, Domi lifted his hands before him. "Works every time," he muttered.

Daedalus stared at the pair of shackles hanging off Domi's right wrist. With a sickening pop, Domi twisted the thumb of his free hand in a way that left Daedalus cringing in sympathy. "How did you do that? There are wards on the shackles to prevent any tampering with promen--"

Domi snorted. "You Lightbearers never think beyond magic. I've been getting out of cuffs this way since I was five." He cradled his hand to his chest, then nodded to Daedalus. "Let me do yours."

Daedalus leaned away. That pop had sounded horrific. "No, I think I would rather remain bound."

His twin rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to dislocate your thumb, you idiot." He reached gingerly into his paenula pocket and pulled out an amber sporeknife.

Daedalus blinked. The last time he had seen the slender blade, Father had been using it to slice off pieces of radish for Ficus and Lilio. "You took--"

Domi chuckled, pulling several other things from his pockets and placing them on the floor. A sprig of quellwort. A few radishes. An obsidian shard. "Once a Pullatus, always a Pullatus," he said slyly. He stepped behind Daedalus. "Let me see if I can get these open."

A few minutes and a bit of jostling later, a click preceded the removal of the shackle from his first wrist, followed soon by the  second. "That was fast."

"Would've been faster if my hand didn't hurt," Domi murmured. He dropped the cuffs into Daedalus's lap. "Nice and heavy," he murmured. "Might as well hold onto them." He swallowed. "Just in case."

Daedalus stared down at the iron shackles, gulping. Then he curled his fingers around the chill metal. "Just in case," he agreed in a faint voice.

He did not know if he could strike someone for his own sake. But if the Rex planned to hit Domi again, the man would be in for a surprise.

He cleared his throat. "We should deal with the Trellis before he returns." The wards did not allow them to touch promenia, but nothing prevented promenia from touching them. Daedalus could feel the tower reaching out to him, brushing the back of his mind with welcome and awaiting his commands. Awaiting their commands.

"How do we want to do this?" Domi asked.

"The tower does not seem to let us just dissolve the Trellis," Daedalus said, studying the options filtering down into their minds like falling snow. "And if we find a way to take it from Lyra, it will collapse again and kill millions."

Domi wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, then nibbled his lip. Daedalus watched the knowledge his brother sought melt into him. "I think it will let us weave a new Trellis out of the current one. Maybe we can we put it too high for the new Princeps to reach?"

"In the heart of the sun, maybe?" Daedalus asked, amused.

Domi shrugged. "Just... away. Somewhere no one can reach it. How far away will the tower let us build a new one?"

The tower responded with a number too big for Daedalus to know what to compare it to. "Very far," he murmured, eyes wide. "But it is possible that Lyra could manage to reach it while it drifts off into the Dark Waters. If so, she could call it back."

"Fine, what about these other two options?" Domi asked.

Daedalus turned his attention to them where they pulsed in his awareness. Ignoring the first option, Weaving, he focused on the other two, Domi's mind coiling lightly with his own.

Clearing, the ravenous mist.

Rising, the gleaming bird.

Together, the twins brushed their curiosity over the second option, Clearing.

The tower answered with a confusing tidal wave of images that crashed over them one after another:

Promenia wove into a great golden cloud, as destructive as rogue promenia but as purposeful as a hungry bird plucking worms from soil. The ravenous storm stretched over the land, uprooting black, red, white, and cyan night-side lifeforms from their native soil.

No, not just uprooting them. The hungry fog tore clivias filament from filament. It reduced entire forests of spiraling spore towers to heaps of black sludge. It flooded terrain after terrain, slicing and melting and severing and burning all in its path. Everything the fog touched--not just living things but rocks and rivers too--disintegrated, leaving behind a fertile desolation where green growing things could take root.

Domi and Daedalus huddled against each other and trembled as the vision released them. "Not that one," Domi whispered in a choked voice.

Daedalus nodded, feeling his twin's nausea roiling in his own belly. "Never again," he agreed.

Horror and wonder warred within him. Their ancestors had hurt the Eyes so grievously. Peeled life from an entire hemisphere in the cruelest way. Murdered half a planet, and harmed four worlds. And yet all this time, the Eyes had been working furiously to find a way to provide for everyone.

"What's our third choice?" Domi murmured, and they turned their conjoined attention back to the tower.

Rising. They inhaled sharply as their minds filled with images of countless specks of humming, wavering particles that emerged from soil, sea, and air. The promenia even rose from artifacts, seeping like mist from tall dams, long earthquake prevention pillars, the vast Trellis, and handheld Caeles stones. Gathering into eddies, then streams, then waves, the particles rushed over the land until every last one collected like condensation upon the Restoration Tower's polished black surface. There, they coalesced like skin, soon hardening into a shell, into impenetrable armor. At last, the tower--clothing itself in promenia feathers and wings--rose into the sky like a vast golden bird and streaked into the starlit blackness.

As the vision released its grip, Domi began to laugh.

Sensing the direction of his twin's thoughts, Daedalus chuckled with him. "Tempting," he admitted, imagining the look on Decus's white-bearded face as the old man found himself departing on an unexpected journey, Aquarius a rapidly-receding dot behind him. "But he might find a way to come back, eventually."

Domi glanced at him, expression wistful. "I know. I just wish he'd go and take it all with him."

"The Trellis?"

Domi shrugged. "The magic."

Daedalus studied his twin, surprised but understanding. It was not just the Trellis that had caused his brother and the whole world such suffering, after all. It was all of it. Society's dependence on promenia. The ranking system. The countless awful practices people justified in the name of protecting and maintaining a world propped up by magic. He could not blame Domi for wishing, even if just for a moment, to cast every last speck of promenia away into the Dark Waters. Magic had given a handful of people a wonderful life. But it had given Domi and other Pullati nothing but pain.

He rubbed his twin's neck soothingly. "What do you want to do?" he asked in a gentle voice, schooling himself to accept the answer, whatever it might be. "We can send it all away. Or..." He felt the forming edge of Domi's thoughts lap against him and blinked at his brother. "Or we can try that," he breathed as the plan began to solidify. Daedalus straightened, staring at his twin in wonder. "What do you need me to do?"

Domi smiled back at him, blue eyes glinting with mischief. "I need you to break the tower again."

<>

Domi wasn't surprised by the Rex's sudden return after Daedalus--treating the tower like the training crystal Valens had snapped--sundered the Restoration Tower from foundation to roof.

The twins backed into the corner as Decus Astralis stormed into the cell. Small flecks of rubble rained down around the man and sprinkled white dust on the shoulders of the other royals and Callide as they entered the cell.

The Rex's eyes narrowed furiously at Domi and then Daedalus as the older twin dismissed the promenia he'd used to create an earthquake within the stone. "How did you overcome the wards on this cell?" the ancient man growled. He waved off his own question and ignored Domi's nervous attempt at a smug grin. "What do you think you're doing? You must know that I won't allow you to try to reclaim the Trellis. And I'm shocked that you imagine you can. Lyra is the Princeps Worldholder, now. It is time for you two to step aside, forever."

"We will once we're done," Domi said. "We promise."

"You are done now," the Rex snapped. "It is over. You two should never have come out of hiding, but I'm glad you did so we can end this at last."

Domi jerked back as promenia swelled around the Rex. His shoulder brushed Daedalus's, and he felt tremors working through his twin's body as the two of them flinched away from the starholder. But there wasn't anywhere to go; their backs pressed white crystal.

Decus waved his hand, and more promenia seeped out of the walls and scattered across the cell. The low thrum of the Caeles echoed against the faintly-glowing white stone.

"Are you sure you wish to do this now, Augustus?" Princeps Fidentia asked. The young forgeholder frowned. "We told the world that the execution would be at dawn, then at Seventeenth Hour. It is only Sixteenth Hour, and the people need stability."

"The people need what I say they need!" the ageless old man snarled, power lashing through the cell and making everyone flinch. He drew a deep breath, composing himself as he turned to glare at empty air. "People of Aquarius, I call upon the world to witness the executions of Daedalus and Laetus Adurere for the crimes of high treason."

Domi's knees weakened, and he grabbed his twin as Daedalus drew a shuddering breath. This was happening. Again. But this time, they'd both die.

He had to finish this task first. He had to. Gulping, he grabbed Daedalus's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as the Rex swept an arm toward them. Then he squeezed his eyes closed.

"You can see their treachery for yourself," Decus said. Each word hit Domi like a tiny stone, painless but distracting as he tried to force himself to breathe the way Valens had taught him. "They have consorted with evil forces and transformed themselves into the monsters you see before you."

Domi could only imagine how he and Daedalus appeared to the world. Two boys, cornered and bloodied? Or two blue abominations?

He shoved the thoughts away and forced himself to breathe into his belly, listening past the Rex's hateful words for the silence within the broken tower where a song should be.

"But the Eternal Radiance provided me with a vision," the Rex said somewhere far away, "a great vision that led me to this tower, deep in the heart of the Blightlands."

It was becoming easier to ignore the old man now. Dimly, he sensed why. Daedalus's heartbeat followed his own--no, led--and Dae's slow, steady breaths tugged Domi into a deeper and deeper place of calm concentration.

Soon, the silent spaces within the promenia crystal began to stand out to him, little cracks and pauses here and there in the Restoration Tower's magnificent symphony. He followed them, streaking down fissures in stone and song alike, until he reached a yawning chasm.

"Here," the Rex said miles away, "we discovered a young woman hidden in the night-side darkness and held captive in this very tower. Her name is Lyra Adurere, and she is the rightful heir to the Onyx Crown and Throne of Solitude. We have freed your imprisoned Princeps Worldholder from these monsters and restored the Trellis to her. Now, we will render the overdue justice that these usurpers deserve."

The words should have terrified him. Instead, he barely noticed them, allowing the old man's voice to flow over him like water as Daedalus held him within a well of serenity. Drawing a deep breath, Domi summoned another song to mind. Not the one in the stone around him, but one that hummed in his memory. He let its tune fill his head, a low resonance he'd heard a couple days ago inside the consecturum Valens gave him to use against rogue promenia.

"They came into this world together. With their own hands, they rained destruction down upon Aquarius. And now, by their very same hands, they will depart from this world and leave us in peace."

Something about the distant words filled him with a sense of growing urgency, but it barely pricked at his concentration. Where is the first option? he asked the tower, feeling Daedalus's query echo own. The Weaving?

It rose up before him, a glorious celestial hymn, like the Trellis itself. Domi drew a deep breath and focused on the spaces between the notes, the shattered places within the crystal.

Into the silence, he placed the new song.

Then Decus Astralis's next words yanked his mind back to the cell. "Kill each other."

Domi gasped, his eyes snapping open, and he found himself staring into Daedalus's horrified face. A moment later, his twin's terror turned to confusion, then wide-eyed realization, and finally grim determination.

Domi didn't understand a bit of it until Daedalus nudged him back and stepped in front of him to face the Rex. "I am not going to do that."

"What?" Decus gasped, shaking his head as neither twin moved. "How are you disobeying me?" His eyes narrowed, and promenia wrapped tighter around them. "Kill each other. Now!"

"Your commands don't work on us anymore," Domi said, wonder surging through him. The Blending had changed them too much. He drew a deep breath, eyes narrowing as he stood alongside Daedalus. "And soon, they won't work on anyone ever again."

"If you think I will let you take the Trellis--"

Daedalus shook his head. "We're not here to take the Trellis back," he said. He glanced at Domi.

The younger twin peered hard at Callide, hoping that the eidolon could pick up his thoughts from where she stood. You need to go. Warn the eidolons. You all need to get as high above the Trellis as you can, as fast as you can.

His heart hammered in his chest as her brow furrowed, then sank into his belly as her jaw clenched and she remained where she stood.

Go! he screamed at her inside. We can do this! Trust us and go!

At last, tucking her lip into her teeth, she departed, streaking up into the ceiling in a wash of golden light.

Decus gaped as the eidolon's brilliant particles streamed away. "You honestly expect me to believe a word you say? I don't know what your mother is doing, but give up. You will not be taking the Trellis back today."

"Indeed," Daedalus said. "For we never came here to reclaim the Trellis." He nodded at Domi, who closed his eyes, his brother's presence wrapping around him as Domi turned his attention to the tower. "We're here to destroy it, and all magic with it."

Together, they nudged the new, ringing song Domi had placed in the heart of the tower.

Unweaving, the tower affirmed.

<>

Daedalus smiled as his twin's eyes opened and the new lightsong began to reverberate through the tower in a deep, uneven rhythm.

The Rex jumped, and his widening gaze darted around between the white walls, ceiling, and floor. "What have you done?"

"What is this?" Princeps Oliva asked, hissing as an amulet hanging from a dainty chain around her neck crackled. She held it up before her eyes, and even from across the cell, Daedalus could see the sparkles of dying promenia within.

Sizzles rose from within the promenia crystal walls, then echoed, cacophonous, through the air as the chain reaction Domi and Daedalus had set in motion began to roll through the tower.

Decus stared in horror as the particles surrounding him like a mantle began to dissolve. "No!" He glared at the twins and surged through the cell toward them to grasp handfuls of hood and hair. "Undo it, now!"

Daedalus's twin winced as the Rex's grip yanked his head to and fro. "No." He smirked, tilting his head in Decus's harsh grip. "Hear that?"

Daedalus listened too, and as the thundering rose high above the tower, Lyra paled. "Th-the Trellis..."

Decus glared down into their faces, but now desperation filled his expression as much as anger. "You cannot mean to drop it on the world a second time!"

Daedalus jerked free of the man's grip on his paenula and started dragging the Rex off of his twin, wincing in sympathy as strands of Domi's hair ripped free. "The solar materials and support beams within it will disintegrate this time. No damage will come to the world. And once magic is gone, the Eyes will protect us."

Decus's eyes widened. "You've gone mad!" He looked from one twin to the other as particles flared and died around him. "I will do whatever you want, if only you stop this! I will even give you the Trellis and let you both live!"

Domi shook his head. "We're doing this so everyone can live, not just us and not just Lightbearers. Everyone."

Daedalus rested a hand on Domi's shoulder and nudged him past the gaping Rex. Over his shoulder, he added softly, "Yes, even you."

Behind them, Decus snarled, "Fidentia, kill them."

"Do not touch them," a familiar voice answered.

Daedalus's heart stopped, and at his side, Domi stumbled in shock. "No," Daedalus whispered.

When they turned slowly, their mother offered a sad smile as the Princeps Forgeholder snarled a curse, promenia fizzling in brilliant sparks around her. "I am sorry, Sons," Callide said. Already, the edges of her golden promenia form had begun to flare and fade.

Decus stomped toward her, expression twisted in desperation. "These monsters are not your sons anymore. They mean to destroy all that you protected. All that you fought and died for. You must kill them!"

Callide stepped between the Rex and the twins, wreathed in fire. "No."

"You must! If they destroy magic, you will be destroyed too." He tried to step around her, but then skidded back several feet as though shoved by a gust of wind. His fists clenched at his sides. "There is little time. I know this is a terrible thing, but you must kill them now."

She shook her head. "Parents are not supposed to outlive their children." She glanced at Daedalus and Domi.

A cold, heavy stone lodged in the pit of Daedalus's belly. "Mother, no."

"Yes, Daedalus. It is too late now, anyway. I have forgotten so much... Go. Go now."

"You're not going anywhere!" Decus snapped. He glared at Lyra. "Dissolve the damn eidolon and then kill your cousins!"

Lyra glanced at the particles sparking and dying around her, then crossed her arms. "It seems your commands aren't working so well any more."

"Go," Callide said lowly. Her golden eyes narrowed at Decus, strong and bright even as the rest of her shredded into steamers of light. "Leave my sons alone or I will topple this tower on your head." Cracks snapped through the white stone, and fine white dust rained down.

Decus gritted his teeth and glanced at the old woman huddled in the corner as stones began to crash down around them. "Oliva. Kill them."

She rose to her feet, keen gray eyes narrowing through the dust as she glared at the twins. "Yes, Augustus."

"Go, Sons!" Callide snapped, and a burst of wind threw them toward the cell door. A crooning hum raced with them, and then they landed in a heap in the hallway outside, followed by a screaming Lyra a moment later.

Elbow throbbing, Daedalus lifted his head, and white stone fell to meet him.

<>

Domi stirred weakly as a voice drifted down through disjointed thoughts. "Domi, wake up. We have to go."

He cracked his eyes open and blinked tearing eyes up at Daedalus's face. Blood streamed from a cut on his twin's eyebrow.

Around them, white stones fell, and beneath him, something shook against his back.

"Domi!" Daedalus snapped, patting his cheeks.

Domi winced, not realizing he'd closed his eyes until he found himself blinking them open again and peering up at his twin's worried face. A chunk of stone crashed down next to him, and he flinched as Daedalus, throwing himself over him, jostled him.

Pain screamed through his side, and he gasped. "The... the tower's falling."

"Yes, Mother is collapsing it." There was quiet agony in the words, and Domi remembered that the woman was sacrificing herself for them. Again. "No future Adureres will be able to rebuild it." Daedalus wrapped an arm around Domi's shoulders and pulled him into a seated position. "Now, we have to go!"

Domi tried to stand as his twin hauled him to his feet, but his knees refused to hold him. Wet heat poured down his side inside his tunica from a place of throbbing agony above his hip. "You go," he wheezed, sagging against Daedalus's side. His twin clutched him to steady him, then gasped. Judging by the spurt of sharp pain as something pressed against the unseen wound, he'd found the blood. "I can't. Too hurt."

"Yes, you can," Daedalus said, hauling him upright and wrapping one of Domi's arms firmly around his shoulders. He eased him forward a small, painful step, and Domi whimpered as pain ignited in his thigh, too. What had Oliva done to him? "Come now. Almost there."

Domi managed to lift his throbbing head, and saw two archways leading out into empty night. With a blink, they merged into one.

Near the archway, Lyra Adurere lay motionless save for the steady rise and fall of her chest, hair and face caked with blood.

"Her too," Domi murmured, nearly falling sideways from Daedalus's arms as he leaned over to point at her. "Can't leave her."

Daedalus pulled him upright with a grunt, then bent over and clasped Lyra's wrist. As he rose, draping her arm around his shoulder, he met Domi's eyes. "I do not know how to fly."

Domi chuckled, pain snapping through his side until he broke off with a wheeze. "Last chance to learn," he coughed, and felt blood rise in the back of his throat. "Before there's no promenia left."

Casting him a grim look, Daedalus gathered the failing promenia around them. Then Domi's twin clutched Lyra close, Domi closer, and leaped out into the cold night.