The magic dropped to two percent in the fourteenth month. Mira felt it happen—a sudden lurch, as though the floor had shifted beneath her feet, and then the familiar ache of a well grown shallower. The earth had not moved. Her body had. The last percentage point had gone, slipping out of her like a thread being pulled from a hem, and what remained was less. Less than it had been. Less than she had hoped. Two percent. Two years, maybe, if the rate held. Maybe less. The math was becoming brutal...