Epilogue
Thomas reached up and pulled the scarf down from his face, feeling the cold, wet wind from the ocean blowing hard against his skin. Above him, the rigging creaked and groaned as the ship rolled with the waves. Before him, he could see Hawksmouth spread out, its port mostly closed, save for one path through the ice in the harbour.
“At last,” said Thomas.
“At last,” agreed Eileen, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I didn’t think we’d make it.”
Thomas watched as the shore grew closer. He couldn’t see the Academy from where he was—the city walls hid it. But he desperately wanted to be there, even as he feared what would happen when they arrived. In his bag, below deck, were letters to the parents of all the students who had died. Henry had helped Thomas write them. The letters we
