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She took Kitsa back to the fountain. But Kitsa's words about Alcaeus sat with her the entire way. With the Templars no longer in power, Idonea didn’t have to hide her magic. The fountain was the central point of the town.

Idonea knelt by the fountain’s edge, her hand curled over the cold stone lip.

“What are we doing?” Kitsa asked, kneeling beside her.

“Help me guide Resonance to locate the daemon,” Idonea said.

“Oh…” Kitsa trailed off.

Idonea caught the uncertainty in her tone and offered a smile. “It will be okay. It won’t draw him to us. We only need to see.”

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, steadying herself.

Kitsa rested her hand on Idonea’s back. “Remember, breathe. Connect.”

Idonea found the soft, thrumming rhythm that hummed like a heartbeat. Then she nicked her finger on her dagger, letting the Riven magic connect to the thrum.

Her body tensed at the connection. Kitsa’s touch grounding her.

The stone beneath her blurred and then vanished. She saw beneath: roots of Current spiralling deep into the bedrock, a Current held fast, not scattered but contained, and not natural.

Her breath hitched. A pulse of power radiated from below the town square, sharp as a spear-tip. It was buried beneath the chapel.

She opened her eyes, chest heaving. Relief hit first, then dread. “He’s there.”

“Where?” Kitsa said.

Idonea had attracted a crowd of pirates and witches. “Beneath the chapel.”

Safira huffed a laugh. “Can’t help but bury secrets under the pulpit.”

Idonea pushed herself upright, still unsteady from the strain of channelling both Currents. She braced herself on the fountain and met the pirate captain’s eyes. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Almost.” Safira’s gaze flicked to the witches huddled nearby, then back.

Idonea followed her look, her heart clenching. She turned to Safira again. “I need one last favour.”

The captain arched a brow. “Another one? Doll, you’re running up quite the ledger.”

“Take her,” Idonea said, nodding to Kitsa. “Take all of them. They can’t stay here.”

Kitsa’s face paled. “Idonea—”

“You’ll be safe with the Crows,” Idonea pressed. Her voice carried, firm enough for all the witches to hear. “And you’ll be useful. Safira needs a witch who can anchor storms and heal cuts.”

Safira grinned, sharp-toothed. “I do like the sound of that.” She studied Kitsa for a long beat, then gave a single nod. “Fine. I’ll take her. And the others. But I’ll keep one, your friend, and drop the rest somewhere safe.”

Relief loosened the coil in Idonea’s chest. She clasped the pirate’s forearm. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Safira muttered, though her eyes glinted with satisfaction.

Kerem came up beside them, carrying a mechanical arm. “For the Templar.”

Idonea raised her brows. “You had one?”

He shrugged. "We had three in the hold. Seemed wasteful."

Safira smiled. “You’d be surprised at what we have.”