Click.

No one moves. We wait, anticipating the low rumble of a hundred kegs of gunpowder igniting beneath our feet.

We wait, but nothing happens.

Click.

Click. Click.

The Madam yanks repeatedly on the detonator's trigger, uttering a stream of curses under her breath before turning it over and fiddling with the controls. I watch her struggle, my ears perked for an altogether different sound.

"Stupid, useless bloody thing." She mutters, looking up and catching the expression on my face. "You find this funny, do you?"

"Not funny," I respond, "Just deeply satisfying."

Her brows lower. She is opening her mouth when a sudden blast sounds from outside.

"What in the...?" Stalking to the window, she places a hand on the glass and squints into the distance. The Enforcers shift nervously around me as I watch the Madam carefully, tensed while I wait to see what she does next. The blood that courses through my veins is red and hot as the Burn but I force myself to remain still, my mind and body buzzing with unspent adrenaline.

The Madam curses again and storms back to the desk, casting the detonator aside in favour of a radio.

"Bring me that rebel." She eyes me suspiciously as she barks orders into the device. "The little weasely one. Have you located one-oh-one, seven-four-three yet?"

'No, Madam." Is the crackly reply.

Geoff. I feel a rush of triumph knowing that the surly old Enforcer is still out there, somewhere.

"Keep looking. If I don't have every single traitor head in the next hour then I'll be taking yours as a substitute." She slams the radio back down on the desk and shouts an accusation at me. "If there's something you wish to tell me I suggest you spit it out now. You are running extremely short on time."

"I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

She blinks, shock showing for the barest instant before her hook hand digs into the desk's wooden surface. I am saved by the chamber door being flung open. The long shadows of two Enforcers dragging someone between them stretches across the floor and over the Madam's statue. When the unfortunate wretch is hauled up staircase I barely feel a jolt at learning who it is.

Simon sputters and chokes, visibly quaking in the Enforcer's iron grip. Instead of disappointment I feel only pity at seeing Tawny's bookish companion dwarfed by the steel-plated army, his glasses chipped and a bruise forming on his cheek.

"Please," Simon stammers, his gaze darting back and forth fearfully between us. "I don't understand. You said that if I brought you the Runner that Tawny and I could go free."

"Did I?" The gouge left in the wood of the desk is the only indication of the Madam's annoyance. "Must have slipped my mind."

"I've already told you everything I know!"

Another explosion sounds, this time from the opposite side of the dome. More shuffling from the Enforcers as the atmosphere inside the chamber grows increasingly restless. The Madam thrives in the unease, straightening and stalking toward her hapless prisoner.

Simon shrinks back, his knobbly knees knocking together. I once more test the bonds pinning my hands behind me, glancing subtly around the room.

"Did you plant those explosives anywhere else?" The Madam's voice is low but carries to the furthest corners of the chamber. "Outside my walls, perhaps?"

"N-no." He shakes his head furiously. "Just around the laboratories, that was the plan."

"Then would you care to explain to me why," her sudden yelling causes everyone but myself and the Brutes to flinch. "There are craters forming on either side of my dome?"

Yet another blast punctuates her fury.

"I didn't..." Simon looks as though he might faint. "I couldn't..."

"He's telling you the truth." I break in. Dark, dangerous eyes slide to me. "It's not his fault I fed him misinformation."

Only echoes surround us as even the most nervous Enforcer turns stone-still. The Madam stares at me, a faint pulse near her hairline betraying the thoughts churning beneath.

"Are you playing a trick on me, Runner?" The lighthearted question is anything but. I allow it to hang in the space between us, drawing the moment out just a hair longer than necessary.

"How can this be my trick?" I ask, indicating the detonator discarded on the desk, "When you're the one who pulled the trigger?"

The next explosion is akin to thunder. The lights overhead flicker, plunging us into darkness. My skin prickles, my instincts alive with misplaced electricity. When the chandeliers finally come back to life the Madam hasn't moved an inch, still fixing me with the same murderous glare.

That's right.

Now, come closer.

Slowly, she withdraws her hook from the perimeter of Simon's neck. I wait for her to take two steps in my direction, tilting my head as if in curiosity.

"It took you so long to find me." My voice is measured, groomed to give Jaron and the others as much time as possible. "I've been passing in and out of this dome for weeks. I'm familiar with each bridge, alleyway and tunnel. I have been here long enough to memorize every square inch of Babel's passageways, both aboveground and under. I have passed beneath posters of my own face scores of times and not once did you turn your head in my direction. Not your fault, I suppose that your artist couldn't get my nose quite right."

The window panes rattle in their stone encasements as the chandeliers sway wildly back and forth. The Madam's twisted features move from shadow to light while the chaos rages outside.

"I told Simon precisely what I needed him to know." I continue darkly. "I told him that my army was still three days away and I let the rebels believe they were rolling kegs full of gunpowder towards the labs. The truth is that Tawny's detonator isn't rigged up to anything but a few harmless barrels of sand."

She's halved the distance between us, her hook landing back on the desk and scratching a crooked line in it's glossy finish.

"My warriors have been slipping through your cracks for almost as long as I have." My careful tone disguises the the distinct thrill I get from finally unveiling our scheme. "We dug a hole into the back of your vault weeks ago and have been replacing your gunpowder with our own, non-lethal alternative. Not to underplay your contribution, Simon," I direct my comment at the Babelonian quaking behind the Madam, "But you, Tawny and the rebellion were just a small part of something much grander."

Her hook scraping along the desk's surface grates at me but I give no indication, tracking her with the impenetrable focus taught to me by a hunter.

"You're not the only one who can lay traps." I finish. "And I've been working on mine for nearly a year."

"What have you done, Runner?"

"The same as you did to me. You took someone from me and now I'm taking everything from you."

"What have you done?"

I draw my hands out from behind my back, crossing my arms to display both my dagger and the cuff dangling from my wrist. At the same time there is the sound of many swords being drawn from their scabbards as several uniformed Enforcers lower their scarves and reveal the Waster war paint hidden beneath. My army stands in the midst of the Babelonian guardship; a couple dozen of my most lethal Wasters primed and ready for battle. I cast a quick glance around, trading a knowing nod with Geoff but purposefully skipping my eyes over Luca.

"You were right about one thing: we are taking your dome." I turn my attention back to the pathetic figure before me. "But we're not taking it in three days, we're taking it now, with everything still intact. Unfortunately, that includes yourself and your precious rain machine."

The Madam has turned as still as the ugly statue down below. Her already-sallow complexion greys as she gapes at me and the arsenal of Wasters gathered at my back. An undeniable flood of power courses through me; finally, after all this time she is forced to reckon with the girl she tried to destroy. Months and months of planning have led to this moment and the fear burning bright from behind her eyes.

"Now it's your turn to choose." Danger sparks the air. "Do you wish to surrender quietly? Because if not, we came quite prepared to fight. That goes for all of you," I cast my voice over my shoulder, speaking to the unfortunate Enforcers caught between my Wasters and the Madam's Brutes, "You get to decide whether you're going to fight for a madwoman or for me."

A stony silence tells me that the Enforcers won't be offering any resistance. Only the mechanized soldiers and the Madam remain.

"So?" I raise a brow. "What'll it be?"

Her head wobbles back and forth in disbelief as she falls back a step. I grow taller, grinning wickedly as I twirl my dagger and revel in her cowardice.

'You're a monster." She rasps. "You've doomed us all."

There is a sudden flash of red but I hold firm, furling my fingers more securely around the dagger's hilt. She's testing me; if I were to lose control I would be giving her exactly what she wants. Percolating on the edge of a storm I keep my guard up, resolute in my refusal to play any more of her games.

"If I'm a monster it's because you've made me into one." My meaning is as lethal as my blade. "This is all your doing. You reap what you sow, Madam."

She shakes with either fear or fury, her black eyes darting around the room. "Well played, Runner." She spews in a hoarse voice. "You've managed to surprise me. There aren't many who can claim that honour."

"Honour is nothing to thieves like us." I level my dagger. "Choose."

She coughs out a bitter laugh. "You drive a hard bargain. I'll tell you what," Her gaze narrows menacingly, "I'll include a third option for us."

"This is not a negotiation," I say through gritted teeth. I can sense the warriors tightening their grips on their weapons as the familiar hum of war shudders through us. "And there will be no bargaining."

"Not even if I told you where he is?"

Two explosions ring out in quick succession. When the lights flicker back on the Madam is wearing an unsettling smile. Red comes for me again but this time I don't shake it clear, too terrified of what could happen if I were to lose her from my sights.

Don't listen to her.

I take a single step forward, pushing through the fog with a series of calculations. Only a few feet lie between us; I just have to reach the desk.

"What would that information be worth to you?" The imminent threat of madness makes it difficult to discern whether the Madam's taunts are out loud or if they exist solely in my head. "To know for certain that your true love is alive and could still be saved?"

I stumble, the soft rug suddenly unsteady terrain.

Hold on, just a little longer. A few more seconds.

The madness is indifferent to my pleading. I feel it coming for me, thundering from the base of my spine up into my skull.

"Poor, poor little girl." She tuts. "Always chasing but never grasping. What a life that must be. Mark my words, the rest of you," Slipping effortlessly into her announcer persona, she addresses the crowd. "The Runner will be the death of us all and I, for one, would rather die tonight than live to see the type of ruin she will bring."

A strange click sounds and she withdraws an object from her robe. In the scant second it takes me to recognize the bomb I am airborne without any memory of having jumped. The Wasters' war cry fills the chamber, the Brutes colliding with the warriors in a violent rampage that rivals my own.

Smoke envelopes me. It coats my nose and throat, choking me as I collapse to the ground. The hissing continues, spilling free of her robe's folds and curling it's way around us. A sharp pain in my side tells me that her hook is nearby and I swipe wildly with my dagger, falling back and coughing up the poisonous gas. Panic finds me in the darkness, squeezing my chest and coating my lungs.

No, not now.

I can't lose her now.

Something—her robe—brushes past my hand. The smoke is everywhere, inside and out, dense and impossible to make sense of. My stomach heaves as I hack and spit, tears gathering in my eyes as my skin burns with the heat of an inextinguishable fire. My newfound power is useless here, crippled beneath the weight of the poisonous shroud.

She's getting away.

Get up.

Tugging my scarf up over my nose I begin to crawl, directionless except for the need to distance myself from the smoke. With rapidfire blinking my vision clears and I push myself to my feet, swaying as I grip one of the window ledges and search desperately. The battle has moved down the stairs and away from the thick blanket of gas but the Madam is nowhere to be seen.

"There!" Someone shouts.

Luca stands on the fringes of the fight. He gestures at the far end of the stage, his eyes stretched wide with meaning. I will my wobbly legs into motion and take off in the direction he indicates, squinting as the murky light catches the last trace of silver. The Madam has somehow vanished into a hatch cut into the floor. The red cloud returns now that she is in my sights and I stumble once before finding my footing and lurching after her.

A twisting stairwell brings me into the darkness. I grip the metal railing, descending without a thought for what lies beneath. The Burn, itself could await me but it would make no difference; the armour I wear is impenetrable and I will not...I cannot stop until this is over.

The tick tick tick of the Tower clock is deafening. I step out onto the steel scaffolding, limbs buzzing as I turn in place and strain to see through the gloom. A huge brass bell and a series of metal gears are stacked before the faces of the four identical clocks, rotating slowly with a series of jarring clicks and whirs. I scan the belltower, catching sight of a figure darting before one of the iridescent walls. Deaf to my body's protests I vault over the railing, landing with a teeth-shattering bang on the floor below.

The world tilts and I careen to the side, clutching my still-throbbing head as the lingering effects of the gas cause it to swim. The Madam has once more disappeared. The clock's ticking disguises her footsteps and I spin in place, casting my gaze up at the tower's famous bell. A distinctive squeak captures my attention and I reel back around, the sound of rushing blood filling my ears. A crescent of light appears against the far wall as one of the clock faces swings outwards and into the dome.

Pain and fear are forgotten as I dash toward the opposite side of the tower. The gap between the clock and the stone widens steadily, showing me the false night and the utter pandemonium of a city in flames. The orange glow is dampened as an impossibly-large shadow blocks the light streaming in through the circular window.

An airship.

No.

This time, I welcome the cloud. Hurtling headlong toward the gap I am still several yards away when the Madam scrambles aboard and the ramp is pulled back inside the ship.

No.

My legs burn but I feel no sting. My lungs constrict but I need no breath. Placing a foot on the edge of the world I leap, extending my arms to fly.

My fingers close around a length of rope and I am wrenched violently upwards, the rough fibers slicing into my palm. A guttural cry sends my other hand into the air where it joins the first. Clenching my teeth, I turn my focus to the climb.

Keep going.

Hand over hand I ascend, picking my way up to the airship. Swinging wildly from a rope a hundred feet above the ground gives me no pause; the fall may as well not exist. Red blinds me to everything but a complete sense of freedom born of nothing before and nothing beyond.

Keep going.

Another inch. Another. I can still do this. I can still win.

Keep going.

A shape forms above me when I come within a few feet of the ship's deck. I blink, the world coming back into crystalline focus when a familiar hand closes around mine.

My eyes roam up his armour-plated arm. I find the same broad shoulders, the same strong chin and closely-cropped hair. Only his eyes have changed; the once-warm grey piercing me with an unforgiving glare.

Will.

I gasp and the rope slips from my grasp. Dangling helplessly high above the city, the only thing keeping me from plummeting to my death is Will's hold on my wrist.

I shout his name but he gives no indication of having heard, his head tilting so the side as if listening to someone behind him. Agony steals the air from my lungs, clawing at my insides and shredding them into ribbons. I thrash in his grip, pleading for him to look at me, to see me, to know me. Pain laces my arm and shoulder as he tugs me closer, so close that I can just about reach out and touch the scruff on his jaw. I choke, the features I know so well blurring before me as I try one last time.

"Please, Will." I whisper. "It's me. It's Kay."

He remains silent, his steely expression betraying nothing but a cold indifference. The cruelty in his gaze doesn't waver as he slowly unfurls his fingers and watches me fall back to earth.