“if we manage to collect the Deck—to lift the mist—that the Spirit will remain in Blunder?” The Captain pondered this. “The Old Book says magic sways, like salt water on a tide. I believe the Spirit is the moon, commanding the tide. She pulls us in, but also sets us free. She is neither good nor evil. She is magic—balance. Eternal.” The Nightmare whispered behind my eyes, his claws sharp. But the Spirit was neglected, no matter her plea. The Rowans erased her, as they once did to me. But she keeps her own time, and I keep a long score. The tide that comes next will blot out the shore.
