“But you can’t use it,” yelled Ms. Richter. “You’ve never been able to use it!”

“It belongs to the Director!” protested Vilyak, covering the Founder’s Ring with his other hand.

“There won’t be a Director, Yuri!”

The statement seemed to have a profound effect on Commander Vilyak. He looked out again at the approaching armada, its progress now steady and uncontested. Snatching the ring from his finger, he practically flung it at Ms. Richter, then fled through the cold rain toward the Sanctuary.

Cooper’s face twisted into a derisive scowl and for a moment, Max thought the Red Branch might pursue their cowardly commander. Instead, they turned their backs on Vilyak, following Cooper to the stone stairs that led down to the beach, where they would meet the first of the attackers. Max went to follow, but Cooper stopped him.

“Remember your oath, Max. Leave this fight to us.”

Ms. Richter hurried over.

“Cooper,” she said. “Call them off those stairs this instant—it’s suicide.” She turned to Max, her voice taut with command. “Where is David Menlo?” she demanded. “We need him here.”

“David’s been badly hurt, Director,” said Max. “He can’t help us.”

Ms. Richter blinked and gazed up at the monstrous storm. Max feared that she, too, would be consumed with terror, but instead the Director’s features became very still. She slipped the Founder’s Ring upon her finger and beckoned gently to Miss Boon.

“Hazel,” she commanded, “leave those be and take my hand.” The young Mystics instructor abandoned the clutch of precious pages and did as she was told. Max watched the two women walk to the cliff ’s edge. The Founder’s Ring burned as bright as a living jewel. Ms. Richter raised it against the advancing ships.

Max felt the earth shudder once, then again. Sea spray whipped against his face as he marveled at the scene below.

The ocean was surging toward the beach as though the craggy bluff itself had taken a slow, deep breath. The inrush of water built momentum quickly, obliterating the Kestrel ’s dock against the stone steps. Crashing against the cliffs, the water rose in a churning, gurgling mass. When it reached the height of the cliffs, however, the water did not spill over but instead rose higher, solid as the very earth. Max watched it climb, a trembling wall of seawater in which rock and boats and corpses were eerily suspended, mortared into place by some unseen force.

The Founder’s Ring blazed brighter, and Ms. Richter sent the lethal wall of water roaring back toward the Enemy.

Max watched, breathless, as the crashing seawall snapped boats and backs alike. Even the distant galleons pitched precariously on the waves, and Max found himself cheering wildly as several of the massive ships finally succumbed, toppling onto their sides and spilling hundreds into the murderous sea.

“You’re doing it, Ms. Richter!” cried Max. “You’re beating them!”

The Red Branch echoed Max’s cheers and even the storm seemed to weaken, shedding some of its awful force and scale. Through the rain, Max squinted and searched the sea, hopeful that the white face had been swept clear from its deck.

But it was not to be.

Astaroth stood, unmoving, at the prow of the flagship. The Demon’s voice carried on the wind until it seemed he whispered in Max’s ear.

“I see you. And I am coming.”

A gale came howling in off the ocean, so abrupt and powerful that all gave way before it.

Max pressed himself flat and clung to the wet earth, scrabbling for a hold as the wind screamed above him. Ms. Richter and Miss Boon were blasted off their feet, their connection lost as the women were sent tumbling like scattered leaves.

The storm thundered again and unnatural flashes of light danced from cloud to cloud like witch fire. Max saw Ms. Richter regain her feet and march with grim determination back toward the cliff.

The Director had almost reached her destination when the air grew hushed once again. A sense of dread consumed Max. There was an incandescent flash and a crack of thunder so piercing it shattered Maggie’s windows.

Opening his eyes, Max registered the outcome with dull shock: Ms. Richter lay motionless within a pit of earth and fire.