Sibal wasn't defeated.
The image of the Elder lying broken on the floor of the Great Hall flickered like a dying lightbulb. The feeling of the wind under my violet wings dissolved into static. The triumphant squeeze of Guilermo’s hand turned into the biting, crushing grip of iron shackles.
I blinked, and the world shattered.
I wasn't in Oakhaven. I wasn't the Witch Queen. I hadn't stripped Sibal of his magic.
I was still on the table.
The Foundry. The obsidian walls. The smell of ozone and copper.
"Stabilize her!" Sibal’s voice wasn't a whimper of defeat. It was a bark of panic. "The extraction caused a feedback loop! She's hallucinating!"
I gasped, sucking in a breath that tasted of stale air and despair. My body arched against the restraints, every nerve ending screaming in protes
