The Brutes' arrival is akin to a cyclone. I remain rooted for as long as I possibly can, waiting until they get a good look at me before bursting into flight.

Jumping up onto the nearest bench I take off, leading the Brutes to the back of the Hall. The clamour of the storm makes it almost impossible to track my pursuers so I rely on my speed as I dodge grasping hands and flailing weapons. My various aches are pushed aside as I leap from table to table, propelling myself high over the heads of the enemy and back into my element.

Arriving at the royal's head table I skid to a halt, searching the room and it's rafters. For now, the Brutes charging into the room are too focused on me to notice the trail of Miners snaking their way past. Pretending to dodge to the side I instead spring suddenly into the air, reaching out to grab the glass chandelier dangling overhead.

The chilling image of dozens of blank, upturned faces sears into me and I pull myself higher, wincing when the chain binding the chandelier to the ceiling strains and starts to break apart. Using the momentum from my landing I swing back and forth, watching the next chandelier and releasing my hold just as the point of an arrow sings past my ear.

The catastrophic sounds of splintering wood and shattered glass are ignored as I keep my sights trained on the path of lights. As the tide below me swells the room seems to tilt and the doubts creep in. What if we severely underestimated the amount of Brutes posted at the Palace? What if there isn't enough room in the Hall to hold them all? The whispers threaten my courage and I look fearfully toward the main doors. Only Marc and Gus remain, their stares jolting my thoughts into action and reminding me of our plan. Immediately I change course, bringing the chase to where all of Court once gathered to watch my execution.

The courtyard's stone pathway digs into my knees when I land. Taking off again I stumble on the slick surface, my vision blurring while rain assaults my senses. The earth quakes under the weight of countless armoured feet and I ignore the urge to look over my shoulder, instead seeking out my opportunities in the columns and archways that surround the flooded gardens.

Keep running.

Determination transcends exhaustion and I breathe shallowly. I pull out of reach when shadows appear from behind pillars and skid through the mud, biting back a yelp of pain when something collides with my shoulder. I am sent spiralling to the side, barely managing to avoid the killing blow of a sword as I scramble back to my feet. Without time to gather my bearings I make a mad dash for the first break in the crowd, heading for open ground.

The beautiful gardens are trampled into sodden earth as the Brutes and I tear across the yard. Sprinting up the steps of a gazebo I grab onto one of it's posts and swing into the air, leaving two opposing parties to be crushed inside and booting another in it's face on the way out.

Landing in a run, I give myself over to the rush coursing it's way through me. I skim past the lip of a fountain and indulge a thrill of satisfaction when several Brutes topple into the drink. Twirling around someone's weapon I snap to focus, realizing that I am racing through the vegetable patch where Will once gifted me a handful of sleep-inducing mushrooms and that my runway is rapidly diminishing. With nothing but a flimsy, vine-covered trellis ahead of me and a narrow strip of roof above, I make a desperate leap.

The trellis is ripped out from under my feet and I grapple to find purchase on the wall. Thick torrents of water lash against me as I yell my body into submission, holding onto the sliver of slippery rooftop with the tips of my fingers and willing myself to climb on top of it.

Thunder fills my ears and I swing my legs up, struggling into a precarious standing position. The overhang is barely wide enough to place a single foot and I move cautiously, taking advantage of the curtain of rain. Metal hands grasp blindly at my perch, missing me by mere inches as I ease my way back to the Great Hall.

Just a few more yards.

Every Brute within the City gates must know where I am by now. Water disguises the horde but the cacophony of ticks ensures that I don't stop moving. Bit by bit I creep along the ledge, keeping my footsteps light while steadily closing the distance between myself and the entrance back into the Hall.

Closer. Closer.

Another flash and the brief instant of light freezes me to my core. The yard is filled end to end with Brutes, all turning as one to stare up at me. Heart in my throat I don't waste a moment thinking and instead jump, taking advantage of the plunge back into darkness before fear steals what's left of my nerve.

The flood is hot on my heels as I streak past the suspended table and head back inside, feeling relieved when I find the room empty and the front door pinned shut. Looping my way around the room I skirt piles of broken glass while I gather everyone indoors and try desperately to conjure up my next move.

Up. I have to go up.

Stealing a glimpse at the vaulted ceiling I note that the chandeliers all hang from crooked or broken chains but the beams above them remain intact. If I can find my way up to the rafters then I might just stand a chance of remaining out of reach long enough to get back into the yard. The sharp edges of a table appear suddenly and I roll over it's top, crashing inelegantly to the ground and diving beneath just as the Brutes collide on either side.

Keep moving.

Shutting my ears to the sound of bodies clobbering my hiding spot I begin to crawl, my sights set on a single pinpoint of light. Withdrawing my dagger I curl my fingers into an iron fist and attack.

Each slash is purposeful, my movements precise as I cut my way to the top of the heap. Something grabs at my ankle and I kick out, pulling myself free and placing a foot on a reinforced shoulder before bolting into the timber-lined canopy.

Splinters pierce my palms as I swing myself higher. Releasing my hold I slam into another beam and knock the air from my lungs. Wheezing and sweating, I heave myself up onto the rafter and start edging toward the exit. Roars and the whistle of arrows surround me but I don't slow, everything ceasing to exist except the next step, then the next. All the while the same words are repeated in a pained hiss.

Keep moving.

Keep moving.

Keep moving.

Something brushes past my leg and I nearly lose my balance. The sharp sting breaks my concentration and I drop down onto my stomach, clutching at either side of the beam and screwing my eyes shut.

Keep moving.

Exhaustion is a lead weight as I force myself back to my knees, my injured leg dragging behind me. More arrows fly past and I blink to see my way through the increasing haze. When the open door lurches and falls from view I realize that my strength is nearly gone. If I'm going to jump, it has to be now.

Summoning all that is left in my reserves I fall from my perch, somehow managing to kick out and launch myself some of the distance.

But not all.

The doors are still out of reach when I land. Lurching to my feet I half-run, half-stumble to the rain. A Brute comes barrelling at me from the side and I twist out of the way, losing my balance and tumbling into the yard. Loosing my weapon once more I spin around, heart stopping as I register the stampede of incoming Brutes.

Shut the door.

The dagger is flung from my hand before I can form another thought, pinwheeling through the downpour and slicing across the taut length of tablecloth. Eyes locked with the madness inside I can only stare as the final cord snaps and the table falls, slamming the doors closed with a deafening bang.

Flinching at the explosion of hammering fists against wood I fight to rise on unsteady legs. The severed rope is twisted and looped to hold the table in place and it is only when I yank the final knot that I look for my father's dagger.

The pounding on the door echoes the pounding in my head. Fatigue dulls my senses and my search turns desperate, my numb fingers clawing through the mud and tears scratching my throat as the truth settles in.

It's inside.

The last memento of my father—the one item I managed to grab from our home before it descended into flames—is gone. Swallowing the lump that threatens to choke me I drag myself upright, skimming my hand across my boot and the empty sheath I've kept hidden inside for nearly seven years.

Keep moving.

Meg. I have to get to her. Reluctantly I stagger across the drowned yard and shove my way back inside Palace walls. Pausing only to wipe my face and secure my injured leg with a makeshift bandage I locate a stairwell and circle up it, the sounds of heavy rainfall intensifying with each step. At the fifth floor a thought occurs to me and I make a detour to the servant's passage where I fought the Brute some matter of minutes or years ago.

I find the Brute's sword still lodged in the wall, it's blade sticky with black blood. Pulling it free I shoulder the weapon and continue up the stairs, water falling like needles when I round the final bend and emerge in the storm's full fury.

The glass walls and ceiling of the Palace's top floor are gone. Lightning illuminates the godless structure before me, beams of metal stacked high and the Vane's silver tip vanishing into the clouds. As I ease my way through Meg's ruined apartments I take care not to stray too close to the edge, all the while keeping an eye out for her and the Madam.

As it happens, they're waiting for me.

The demented scientist and her henchmen are clustered beneath the Vane. Raising her false hand, the Madam's greeting whips toward me on a gust of unforgiving wind.

"About time, Runner!" Electrical explosions unveil a venomous smile and eyes as black as the night. I creep forward, searching for a trip wire or snare as I cross beneath the Vane's threshold. I find the Madam standing amongst a mess of complicated tools and equipment, the various lights blinking and the gauges spinning in their glass chambers. Her creepy smile widens as I approach and she steps aside to reveal Meg. Despite being surrounded by heavily-armed Brutes my queen shows no trace of fear, her head held high against the hammering rain.

Ignoring the madwomen standing between us I call out, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Meg assures me, casting a disapproving look at her captors.

My eyes slide back to our opponent and I fume silently, knowing that we only have to wait.

As predicted, the Madam can't stop herself from gloating, "What took you so long?"

"Spot of bother with your puppets." I reply. "There were one or two more than I expected."

"I'm so pleased you took notice. My reserves have been waiting in the desert for a very long time."

"You're disgusting."

"I'm prepared." She corrects me smugly. "And if you'd been half as ready for these final days then perhaps we'd be celebrating your victory instead of mine."

"All you've done is hide behind the ghosts of people you've murdered," I tell her, my voice shaking. "It's barbaric."

"Trust me, that's not what they'll be saying a hundred years from now."

My grip on the sword's hilt tightens while the familiar wave of anger breaks over me, the murderous red cloud following close behind. I fight to see my way through, dazed at how readily the demons return.

"This storm is a pittance compared to what I had in mind." The Madam's grating tone rises over the howling wind. "I have to hand it to you, Runner. I didn't think you had it in you to demolish Babel. I'm sorry that your heroic efforts were in vain; this rain might not purge humanity but it will be more than enough to bring it to it's knees."

"We won't let you do this." I sputter. The number of Brutes surrounding Meg seems to triple and when the sky alights I catch a glimpse of more lurking in the shadows. "The Wasters and Babelonians are on their way. Your Vane will be torn to shreds."

"They'll be too late." She cackles. "In a few minutes' time I won't need the Vane at all. These clouds will gather all on their own, growing larger and stronger until your precious City and everything surrounding it are turned back into grains of sand. What I've created, here transcends science. Do you understand that? The power generated from Babel, the sky and everywhere else were just the blueprints for something much, much greater. Everything that I have done, sacrificed, bled for...they have all led to this," She throws her arms into the air, flesh and iron framing the monstrous Vane. "My most glorious creation."

"Spare us the speeches." I snap, "The only thing you sacrificed were the lives of people who trusted you."

"They were right to trust me." She hisses through the torrent of water sliding down her silver hair and soaking her robe. "I have changed the world forever. I have brought rain. Real rain." Flashes of lightning emphasize her point. "Not false weather drilled from the ground or the odd shower conjured by mechanics. No, I have engineered a permanent shift, one that will abolish this wretched world and clear the way for something greater. Something better."

"How dare you." Meg breaks in, her defiant glare the opposite of the horror plaguing me. Uncaring for the downpour she towers over us, her clear gaze transformed into daggers. "You manipulative, selfish, careless coward. Our fate is not up to you and how dare you think you have any right to it."

"Pick up a history book sometime, Princess. Humanity is made up of nothing but a bunch of stupid, thoughtless creatures incapable of making a selfless choice. Trust me, I have done us all a favour by making this decision for them."

"You're trying to play god."

"And who's to say I'm not?" The Madam erupts, her wild eyes tinged with red. "When you look up to the heavens, what do you see? Some archaic deity? No. That's my rain falling upon your pretty heads, ladies. Drink it in and bow to your new master."

My injured leg shakes, the tremor shuddering through me while my sword and eyelids grow heavier. Sleep becomes more and more tempting, even as Meg's voice seeps through the haze.

"It won't work." She states simply. "Drown us and in a hundred years you'll be nothing more than a cautionary tale: a monster used to scare children."

In the turbulent silence that follows I manage to ease my eyes open, blinking the scene into focus. Meg and the Madam stare one another down, identical expressions of fury passing between them. After a long moment the older woman opens her mouth, speaking so quietly that I nearly miss it. "Better to be remembered as a monster than forgotten entirely."

"It doesn't have to be this way." I hear myself say. The cloud ebbs and I shift my weight, biting back a pained grimace as I lift my chin and address the Madam. "This isn't the ending our story deserves. You want to be remembered? Then turn off the Vane and be the hero that we need you to be."

I catch Meg's eye across the divide and the words come more easily, "You said once that you and I aren't all that different." Drawing a breath I steal from the truth. "You were right. I understand what it's like to want something so badly that you'd give anything for it. I know how it feels to push past the point of no return. You think that you can't begin to make things right but believe me, you can. There's no mistake so great that you can't come back from it. Come back, Madam. It's still not too late."

She blinks and I catch a glimpse of someone else, someone whole as the Madam's stunned expression takes on that of an ambitious young scientist. The image vanishes as quickly as it appeared, the wide-eyed wonder replaced by an ugly snarl. "Pathetic, the both of you."

Hope evaporates as I reconsider our odds. A series of calculations run through my head: I could probably disarm one or two of the Brutes and give Meg a narrow window to escape, but then what? What if we are swarmed and the Vane is allowed to keep spinning? There's got to be a way out. There's always a way out. Think, Kay. Think.

"So, what's it going to take?" I lower my sword, deliberately avoiding Meg's questioning look. "Do you want us to admit defeat? If so, fine. You win; the Palace is yours. Now, let Meg go."

"You misunderstand, Runner." Her lips draw away from her teeth. "I didn't call you up here to negotiate the release of my prisoner."

Thunder and dread collide. "What do you want?"

"Why, you of course."

Sparks fly from the Vane, causing the silhouettes of the silent Brutes to flicker. I flinch, waiting for them to descend and preparing to spend the remnants of my nonexistent energy on the fight. When nothing happens I straighten, speaking through gritted teeth.

"You have me." I tell her. "And if you let Meg go right now then I won't fight. Touch a hair on her head and I swear to the gods that the Vane won't be the death of you. I will."

"Kay, don't—"

"Temper, temper." The Madam speaks over Meg, dismissing the Queen's protests with a wave of her hook hand. "You are truly filled with an inextinguishable fire. I might admire such a quality if you didn't make it your life's mission to destroy everything I create."

"Let her go."

"In a moment, I promise. First, I want to show you something. I have someone here who's been dying to see you."

A familiar shape emerges from the shadows and the terror I've kept at bay comes screaming to the surface. I stumble backwards, the tip of my sword scraping against the floor. Weak protestations do nothing to stop his approach and my heart wrenches violently as he steadily closes the distance between us, marching with an ironclad will that isn't his own. His unseeing eyes bore into mine, their once-vibrant depths now cold and full of a nothingness that tears my soul into splinters.

It's him.

Will.