I am afraid to see hordes of men with guns and torches surround me as soon as I walk out of the town hall's doors, but the street is empty—yet. The telltale signs of alarm are everywhere: lights in the windows, muffled shouts, doors opening and closing. I don't need Zeke's urging to turn towards the old church and run.
He still leads me, paths my way to avoid the circle that grows narrower with each step. But when I escape it, the rest of the road is blissfully clear.
The church and the cellar underneath it meet me with a familiar tension of sleeping magic and Zeke's true body, who smiles at me in greeting.
