9
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I start at the front of the church, squatting in the shadow of the large wooden cross. My hands shake as I let the quakesand fall through its ritual—from the jar to my cupped palm and through my spread fingers to the lush green lawn. It falls like the blade of a knife, impossibly straight and fast. Once we’ve closed the perimeter, we’ll all be bound inside it until the spell expires. My eyes flutter closed. With the small amount of drift I’ve recovered, I touch just the edge of the Limen—and bind my will to the powder. You may not leave. You may not leave.
The powder touches ground.
Snap.
Around me, the air grows cold.
Yes, I remember the spell.
I’m trusting Garrett that this is the only way. That I’m not abandoning Lillie. I can’t lose them. Not Lil. Not Tad, not
