Although Mart knew no one would see through his disguise, he could barely keep his nerves in check as he stepped into the council chamber. He was glad Alyss and Aravin had acted so decisively yesterday, because he himself had no idea how he would have handled any of it.

Fortunately, he did not have to do much now. He was posing as one of Fantoom's crew members and only had to intervene if Cami was put in danger. At least, that was what the dragons had instructed him to do. Either they vastly overestimated his abilities, or they had no idea how large the Council of Tranendal was. The seven Pillars were represented by the five highest Scions, which meant there were thirty-five people present. There was no way he could strip all of them of their souls if they resisted or tried to get rid of them.

The delegates were seated across a semicircular tiered platform beneath a glass dome. On the left sat the Scientists, followed by the Tincture Masters, the Healers, the Culturists, the Labor and Food Distributors, the Enforcers, and the Maintainers. From most important to least important.

His gaze lingered on Aravin's mother, and he held his breath, afraid she would see through his disguise. But her attention was fixed on her son. As always, she looked as if she had bitten into something sour.

Seymon sat right beside her. Since one of his mothers was a Culturist and the other a Food Distributor, Mart did not know the man personally. Even so, he could see the Baron's features in him. He suppressed the urge to reach for Alyss's hand. That was the murderer of her brother. The man who had been willing to let all of Faux freeze so long as his own people stayed warm in their ivory tower.

He hoped she could keep her composure for the duration of this meeting. At the end of it, they intended to ask Enforcement to launch an official investigation into the man. Leopold had promised to testify, though Mart had his doubts whether he truly would. He had spoken to the man several times over the past few days and had tasted the conflict in his loyalties. His father or his uncle—he still seemed unable to decide whose side he was on. Perhaps he was nothing more than an opportunist.

Mart glanced sideways. Lux seemed every bit as uncomfortable beside him as Mart felt himself. His shoulders were rigid, and he kept adjusting his face mask. Saxa sat next to him looking as though she wanted to behead everyone in the room. Quite the first impression. Then again, their very first impression—in the company of dragons—had already been rather telling.

The Head of Enforcement was the first to speak, imposing a tense silence.

"Youngsters." A nervous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—it was clear he did not know how to address them. "Although it is highly unusual to admit seven youths into the council chamber, especially when most of you are not Scions, your... entrance has made us see the necessity of it. Who speaks for your group?"

Cami nervously brushed a hand over his many bracelets and looked questioningly at Fantoom, who gave him a nod. The boy rose to his feet. His colorful locks shifted against one another as though alive.

"Hello," he began uncertainly. "I would never have chosen this position for myself." He bit his lip and looked around. "But the dragons want me to be their spokesman."

People frowned and looked at the boy with disdain. But no one laughed or objected.

"Then tell us what they have to say, and how you came into contact with them."

Cami looked back at Alyss, who stepped beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. She told them about her brother's investigation and the murder she had witnessed. As she spoke, she cast a cold glance at her employer, though she accused him of nothing directly. She did explain how he had dismissed her own investigation as unimportant, and how she had ultimately decided to replace the soul light herself, through an acquaintance of Aravin's who was a Soultaker.

Cami took over again and said it repulsed him to kill the dragons, and that he had wanted to ask for their help instead.

"And they are willing to help us," he concluded, then let a silence fall. "Provided you agree to their terms. The dragons will reignite the original sun, so that the ice will melt and new life can grow. They will not interfere in the governance of Tranendal, but everyone will be free to leave and build a new life elsewhere. Even those who are not Scions."

Someone gave a derisive snort. "Then our entire society will collapse."

"Then build it again," said Fantoom. "Maybe your brain doesn't work very well, so let me spell it out for you: if you don't agree, Tranendal will look exactly like your City of the Dead in five years. Buried beneath a sheet of ice." He tapped the armrest of his chair with his metal fingers. "Or the dragons set your precious Pillars on fire. Saves the world from your stupidity in one go."

Mart bit back a grin, even while fearing somewhere that Fantoom's words would only make matters worse. The dragons were a real danger, at least in their eyes. He had no idea whether they would truly do such a thing, and hoped never to find out.

"It hardly sounds as though we are being given a choice," remarked a female Enforcer. "And I doubt any of you—most of your group are barely adults—have any idea of the consequences if all our workers leave."

"Perhaps then it is time you start rewarding their hard work," said Saxa. She stretched out her mechanical leg. "Chop off a few fingers and offer them up. Or an entire leg. A fine gesture of goodwill to show you are all willing to keep Tranendal running without forced labor."

Murmurs spread through the chamber. Yet the threat of the residential towers going up in flames kept most criticism at bay.

"And what do you think of this?" someone asked Aravin's mother. "Your son is sitting there."

"I am aware of that," she answered curtly. "And he has—"

A deafening roar shook the ground. A shadow swept past the windows on the right side of the chamber. Glass shattered, and something crashed inside. For one moment Mart thought it was a dragon's claws, until he saw metal hooks lodged behind a window frame.

"The dragons!" Fantoom shouted. "The dragons are under attack!"

Mart felt sick. No... is everything about to go wrong after all?

Everyone rushed toward the windows. Mart shoved people aside to catch a glimpse of what was happening outside.

When the meeting had begun, the dragons had taken positions around the building. Mart pressed his nose to the glass. Below, a building was on fire. An enormous tail smashed a block of shops to pieces. Rubble flew through the air.

Roars, growls, screams—the sounds swelled louder and louder.

Suddenly the glass above their heads exploded. Isthra burst through the dome and roared so loudly Mart was knocked to the floor.

"BETRAYAL!"

Heat flooded the chamber as she opened her jaws. Deep within them, her searing fire churned.

"Wait!" Cami screamed. "Please wait!" He approached her with a trembling, outstretched hand. "Please, do not let hundreds die for the destructive deeds of one."

Mart searched through the chaos for Seymon. He had been willing to let all of Tranendal freeze to death. That man's soul was pitch-black. Of course he would never simply bend to their will.

He had been shoved into a corner. Unlike the people around him, he did not look afraid.

Mart reached his soul-power toward him, wrapped his fingers around the man's soul. He held one half firmly while wrenching hard at the other.

The soul tore in two.

With a cry, the man fell to his knees. Mart strode toward him and pulled half the soul to himself, holding it in his hand.

"You gave the order for this. You would rather turn Tranendal into ruins than lose your power."

The man stared up at him with wide eyes. He pressed a hand to his chest and gasped loudly.

Around them, silence had fallen.

Alyss came to stand beside him.

"It's true. Leopold told me himself. You didn't want the dragons to return because you were afraid they would destroy your life's work. And to stop that, you murdered my brother!"

"I am... not afraid..." Seymon forced out. His eyes were fixed on the pulsing midnight-blue soul in Mart's hand. "I... know it... will happen. I... saw it... when I joined... the priesthood. They... will destroy... everything."

Mart tightened his grip on the soul, making Seymon wheeze sharply for breath.

"That is because you will destroy everything if you continue this. Call your men back. Now. Or die where you stand knowing we will erase your name from every history book."

The color began to drain from Seymon's face. Had he taken too much of his soul?

Murmuring rose again. Venomous looks were cast at Seymon, and before long his fellow Scions turned against him.

Mart turned to the dragon.

"Please, call the others back. Seymon and his men are a minority. We will destroy the weapons they secretly kept hidden—I promise."

Isthra growled.

Everyone except Cami recoiled from her gleaming teeth.

"This is your last chance." Her heavy voice rolled across everyone in the room. "Prove that you are worth to be alive. Otherwise, we will create a new race, and you will be nothing but fossils to them."

With those words, she spread her wings, knocking several Scions to the floor, and dove back out through the shattered glass.

A deathly silence remained.

Everyone looked at them.

A moment ago, they had been intruders in these people's eyes—now it seemed they were expected to lead.

"Well, that seems clear enough," said Aravin. "Times are going to change. Anyone who wishes is free to leave Tranendal. In return, we get the sun back. Is there anyone here who would rather become a torch?"

Silence.

Now that the dragon was gone, Mart stood at the center of everyone's attention. The half soul trembled in his hand. No one but its owner could see the glow except Mart himself, yet everyone seemed to know what he had done.

"Once, the Soultakers were created by the dragons to pass judgment." He raised the dark soul in his hand. "A good soul is light blue. This one clearly is not. Therefore, I hereby banish Seymon from Tranendal."

"You cannot... do this," the man rasped. "I... built... this. Strip me... completely, then."

Mart snorted. "I do not need your blood on my hands. Then end yourself." He looked at the soul in his hand. He had no idea what to do with it, so he shoved it back into the man's chest. The two halves were twisted now; they no longer fit together properly.

He felt no remorse.

He felt no remorse for anything.

He turned to the others.

"I believe our task here is done."

"Almost." Cami pulled out a roll of paper. "First, all delegates present may sign here."

Silently, people came forward to write down their names. Aravin's mother as well. She paused beside her son and let her gaze travel over his new friends. "I hope you know what you are doing. Perhaps you truly have saved us from an icy death. But it remains to be seen whether we have not merely traded it for a fiery grave."

"So long as everyone in Tranendal concerns themselves only with Tranendal, I doubt it will come to that." Aravin added mockingly, "And you have never concerned yourselves with anything else."

Her lips became a thin line once more. Over the crunching glass, she walked to Cami to sign the dragons' terms.

Not long afterward, Mart and the others left the ruined council chamber. The street was littered with rubble and smoking buildings. A great rusted metal cart stood there, enormous barbed arrows jutting from it. The few people who had not hidden were gathered around it, staring upward. The dragons circled high above them, far beyond reach.

Though they were too distant to make out their heads, Mart bowed his own.

It is done.

Just beneath the Golden Heart—where Mart could hardly bear to look—a smoky black blot appeared, spreading wider until it swallowed the dragons whole.

Then they were gone.

Stunned, Mart kept staring upward for some time.

"And now?" he asked at last. "Are they going to the sun now?"

"It seems they can travel through some kind of... black holes," Alyss mused.

"They are going to fetch the others of their kind first," said Cami. "They told me that five hundred years ago there were too few of them to set the sun ablaze again." He laughed exuberantly, finally able to let go of the tension of the past hour. "I think tomorrow we can begin the day with a real sunrise! According to the stories..." His face took on a dreamy expression, and he sighed with longing.

A real sunrise... Mart could not imagine it. He slipped his hand into Alyss's and gave it a squeeze.

She smiled at him, and he wondered whether that mysterious sunrise could ever hope to rival her smile.