by Cora Carmack
They moved on swift and silent feet through the empty city. Kiran with his long strides took the lead, and Roar stayed at an even pace with Jinx directly behind him. They darted around corners and through alleys, and she was struck by the realization that Kiran knew Pavan far better than she ever had.
She didn’t recognize their route, but as the homes and buildings grew more derelict, she sensed they were getting close. They turned onto a familiar street at the same time that the skyfire storm overhead reached the edge of the city. Roar craned her head back, watching the deceptively beautiful display of light as the skyfire rained down, shattering against an invisible barrier over the city. Shimmering silver-white light ran in what looked like rivulets over the barrier. They reminded her of great salty tears, as if the goddess were up there somewhere weeping over what her world had become.
She was too distracted by the display overhead to notice immediately what was wrong. She felt the sting at her nostrils first, and blamed it on the lightning overhead. She had experienced the same singeing sensation in the remnant camp a few days prior and also in the Sangsorra desert when she had been right in the center of that skyfire storm. A phantom pang lanced through her lungs at the thought of that day, and she put a hand to her chest as if she could soothe the storm that beat beneath it. But the skyfire was too far away for it to be the cause. The Stormling barrier was thick and powerful, and even when she tried, she could only detect the dull presence of the soul inside the storm. She tore her eyes away from the silver lights overhead, black spots dancing in her vision as she attempted to focus on the street in front of her, where the other hunters had all gone still.
For a moment, she thought it was just the play of darkness over the street that made it look so ominous. But as more light shimmered overhead, she began to make sense of the blackened, hollow husks and the stench that forced her to blink watery eyes. The entire rest of the street appeared as if it had already undergone a skyfire storm. The scent of char hung in the air, and the streets were littered with burned boards from collapsed buildings. When she opened her mouth to speak, she tasted ash on the wind, and the words dried in her throat. The buildings that had hidden the Eye were decimated, nothing left but rotted stairs and tumbled walls. She could see the area that used to house the black market; even the remains of a few stalls were identifiable in the ruins.
None of the other surrounding streets were destroyed. It did not look as if anyone had even tried to clean up whatever happened here. It was as though the entire area had been scorched by a skyfire storm, then left behind as if … as if in warning.
Like the one Casimir had given the remnants a few days ago.
Kiran’s eyes were dark, his brows set in a grim line as their gazes met. She saw his worry, and the way he tried to hide it beneath his taut jaw and clenched fists. She knew he would rather be anywhere else but here, under the dominion of the family that had destroyed his. But he didn’t say that, didn’t tell her that it was stupid to come here.
Instead he asked, “What now?”
She looked out at what remained of their only plan. She hoped the inhabitants of the Eye were all safe, that the damage had occurred when the markets were empty. But she feared that was not the case. On their journey through the wildlands, they’d encountered a funeral pyre, and the stench of burned flesh was one she would never be able to forget. And though the damage here did not appear recent, a nauseating scent clung to the carcass of the market.
She turned away, slamming her eyes shut, and biting hard on her lip to keep from being sick. She should have realized that the Eye would be compromised. After all, she had found it by following Cassius there. She had not expected him to destroy it, for he seemed to have a use for it once upon a time. But obviously, she knew even less about the Prince of Locke than she had believed.
She did not know what to do next, where to go, or whom to trust. Before she could respond to Kiran’s question, the barrier overhead suddenly dropped away. Roar took a gasping breath as she was assaulted by the dark, seething soul that churned high overhead. Its presence felt thick, like oil, even through her shields, and the singed feeling from before was nothing compared to the way her eyes and nose burned now. Tight bumps pulled up on her skin in reaction to the enormous power in the air. Then the light blazed bright and fierce, blocking out the entire palace it hovered over. She clapped her hands over her ears as the wind shrieked, and she bent her elbows to her knees, using all her strength to block out the soul that was lashing out in every direction above. She struggled to breathe under the battery of rage it unleashed, and she swore she could feel oily tendrils of its power trying to catch hold of her, to find refuge in her.
Then with a deafening roar of thunder and a blinding explosion of light, the night died and went quiet for a final time.
Slowly, Roar straightened, rolling her stiff shoulders back. She cast her eyes from the palace dome, to the scorched road, to her trusting friends.
What now?
She wished she knew.
Meeting at dawn.
Z
—a note that was burned after reading
4
Aurora could not sleep, which was why as dawn approached she was on the roof of the inn where they had taken refuge the night before. Everyone had been so weary that they had all gone straight to bed. Aurora had tried to do the same, glad to finally have a real bed again. But no matter how she tossed, she could not stop her brain from turning over thoughts about her mother and Kiran and Cassius and the Stormlord, and how all of this was going to come tumbling down any moment.
She was staring at the slowly brightening sky, blooming with pinks and oranges and blues that brought the smallest measure of peace to her chaotic heart. Her thoughts, her emotions, her everything had been straying too often of late. She’d come to the roof for that very reason, hoping to knit herself whole before doing what had to be done today.
Then movement down the street caught her eye, and she ducked behind the roof’s ledge, a gasp lodging in her throat as a group of soldiers came into view in the dawning light. She reached for her hair on instinct, and despite finding it covered, her heart still raced uncomfortably. Her heart did not simply beat anymore, not since that night in the desert. Rather, it rolled through her like thunder, and she felt the erratic streak of skyfire all the way down to her fingers. Sometimes she felt as if she had no blood left, only skyfire sizzling in streams beneath her skin, and she wondered if she would even bleed the same. If anything would ever be the same …
A deep, emphatic voice from below cut through her thoughts, bringing her to the very real and potentially dangerous present.
The sun had barely cracked open the sky, and soldiers were patrolling in the neighborhood where she and the others happened to have found lodgings. Could it be a coincidence? Was this happening all over the city? Or were they here for her?
She rose up on her knees, peering over the roof’s ledge at the men in blue prowling below her. One tall, dark figure spoke to the rest, sending them off in pairs in various directions. They fanned out through the streets, moving at a leisurely pace, stopping to peek in windows and doorways. When the leader was left alone, he turned his head up toward the new sky, and Roar’s stomach plummeted.
She knew that face—the short, nearly shaved hair, warm brown skin, and prominent brow combined with the perpetual frown. He had been her teacher, her guard, and something very near a friend. And yet, despite being certain of the man’s identity, her brain still struggled to comprehend. Taven, the man who’d taught her how to throw a knife, was wearing Locke blue.
She took a sharp, painful breath. This did not make any sense. Out of everyone, she would have trusted Taven the most to be loyal to her and her mother. Was it possible there was something she was not understanding? Were things not as bad as they seemed?
Taven sighed and watched in apparent apathy as the last of his men disappeared down various streets and alleys. Aurora wanted to open her mouth to call out to
him, but a thread of wariness held her back. And she was glad for it a moment later when his disinterest disappeared between one blink and the next. His tall frame taut with tension, Taven glanced around, then turned and strolled quickly down the road that led back toward what remained of the Eye.
She waited one quick breath, then another. She shook her head, knowing that it was reckless even as she swung her leg over the edge of the roof.
Three floors. Too far to jump. She kicked at a metal downspout, and decided the pipe was sturdy enough to get her to one of the lower windows at least. She could have used one of Jinx’s vines right about now.
She only gave herself time for a short inhale, then she swung herself down over the roof, feet scrambling for purchase against the wall as she held tight to the downspout. Heart thundering, she began an ungainly slide down the side of the building. The pipe creaked under her weight, but held long enough for her to drop down to the ledge of a second-floor window.
A glance showed that Taven was nearly out of sight. She decided that there was no time to be cautious. She crouched on the ledge, and then leaped.
She landed with a jolt, pain shooting up her legs, but she let her momentum carry her forward into a roll, and she came up walking, her ankles tender, but otherwise unhurt.
She checked to make sure her hair was still covered by her hood, then darted down the road after Taven, only limping for the first few strides. She stuck to the shadows, and tried to ignore her warring thoughts. She could be making a grave mistake, but she was also tired of feeling hopeless. This was the first time since seeing the destroyed Eye that she saw a clear path forward. Taven could tell her everything she needed to know … if she could trust him. And this might be her only chance to catch him alone.
After a few streets, she had caught up enough that she could slow her pace. She breathed heavily, and her ankles protested, but her eyes remained on Taven. When her former guard passed the charred ruins of the Eye he did not even glance at the destruction. He walked past it with cold indifference.
Aurora wished she could do the same. But as she skirted by the blackened husks of the market stalls, she could not stop her imagination from turning dark and bleak. There had been dozens of people inside the market each time she had gone. Where were all those people now? Had they survived? She did not feel a stronger than normal presence of souls in this area, but that did not mean there had not been casualties. She was so focused on her imagined horrors that she nearly missed Taven’s sharp turn down an alley strewn with trash and debris and muck of questionable sources.
She stuttered to a stop moments before she would have stepped out into plain view. A quick peek around the corner revealed Taven stopped halfway down the alley. A broken, swinging sign hung over an abandoned apothecary. The windows were boarded up, and the front steps sunken in rot. Hope began to unfurl. This was not the first time she had followed someone to a seemingly abandoned location only to find a different reality. Perhaps the Eye had just moved?
Aurora leaned farther around the wall, trying to get a better glimpse of what was happening. She felt something brush against her arm, and a moment later someone whispered, “I always have your back, novie. But this seems … shall we say, unwise.”
Fear clutched her heart for a long moment, and the distraction made her mental shields waver briefly, sending an overload of sensation into Aurora from the spirits around her—living and dead. She turned and her eyes fixed on Jinx’s familiar grin. After a stabilizing breath Aurora asked, “How did you find me?”
“I saw you fall past my window.”
Frowning, Aurora whispered, “I did not fall.”
“The roll at the end was a nice addition. Looked almost purposeful.”
Aurora did not care to argue, not when Taven might overhear them. But she whispered, “You followed me.”
“Good thing too. Kidnapping that guy will be much easier with two of us.”
“Kidnapping?” Aurora’s eyes widened, and she shook her head fiercely. “No one is kidnapping anyone.” After all, the last kidnapping she planned had come with extreme, unforeseen consequences.
“Are you sure?” Jinx tilted her head. “His information would be incredibly valuable. Plus, if he is anything like the Locke soldiers we met before…”
“He’s not.” At least, Aurora hoped he was not. “I … know him. Knew him. When I saw him walk past the inn, I didn’t think. I just followed him.”
Jinx’s eyes narrowed, and she hummed behind closed lips. “How well did you know him? Because I have a feeling Kiran is about to get his first taste of jealousy if this soldier is the reason you’ve been so secretive.”
“It was not like that. He was … a friend.”
“You were friends with a Locke soldier?”
With quiet, clipped words, Aurora answered, “He did not used to be one. His name is Taven, and he’s…”
She glanced around the corner to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard, and her stomach sank.
Taven was gone.
Aurora cursed and entered the alley, scanning again and again for where he might have gone, but she could see no avenue for escape. She pushed her fingers into her temples, a sudden ache unfurling in her head.
“No need to look so lost, novie.”
Aurora turned around to face Jinx, and found the witch standing beside the entrance to an old storm shelter, overgrown with moss and weeds. As she watched, the witch bent down, and in one sweeping motion, tore the greenery away from the shelter door. It came up in one large sheet, like a blanket, and Jinx dropped it to the ground, her nose wrinkling.
“I didn’t even need my magic to tell those plants weren’t real. They’re little more than cloth counterfeits.”
And sure enough, now that the greenery had been removed, Aurora could tell that the shelter door had brand-new hinges. She darted forward, kneeling by the door and pressing her ear down against it.
She heard the breeze whistling around them, the rumble of thunder in the distance, but no sound from within the shelter. She sat back on her heels, and looked up at Jinx.
“What do you want to do?” her friend asked.
The smart thing would be to wait and watch for Taven to leave. But a storm was rolling in, the thunder coming more frequently by the second. She could feel it. The air was humid and thick. But more than that, an uneasy feeling scraped up the back of her neck, and something dark and oppressive lurked just past her shields.
What if something happened and they lost him? Or he did not come out until the storm passed? She was not sure she could handle another day without knowing what had happened to Pavan in her absence. The uncertainty of that combined with her anxieties over revealing her secrets to Kiran were too much to contemplate.
A creak sounded, and Aurora looked over to see a grinning Jinx holding the shelter door open enough to peek inside. The witch shrugged and gestured for Aurora to join her.
Aurora quickly ducked her head near the opening. It was pitch-black inside. The sliver of light from the crack revealed the top rungs of a ladder, but it was swallowed up by the dark before they could see the bottom. Aurora could hear voices. A woman—her voice smooth and rich with an edge of command. A man’s voice echoed a moment later, but she could not discern the words, only the muted sounds.
She pressed her lips together, pondering the risk of stepping down into an unknown environment. Then she thought about Jinx calling her novie, about the fact that she’d traveled through the wildlands of Caelira, and stared into the heart of a skyfire storm, and survived to return home. Now more than ever, she needed to be brave.
Decided, she tugged up a piece of cloth that was already knotted around her neck and used it to cover her face. She gestured for Jinx to lift the door higher, and carefully she swung her leg over the ledge and found the first rung of the ladder.
More sunlight poured in, illuminating a small, empty room with dirt floors. She caught glimpses of debris, a few wooden supply barrels, and a small darting s
hadow that she guessed was a rat. She moved quickly and quietly down the rungs, not wanting to draw attention. Jinx appeared to have the same thought as she lowered the door until only the barest crack of light shone through. Aurora paused to let her eyes adjust to the limited amount of light. The room smelled dank and stale, as if it had not been touched by fresh air in months. The sound of her heartbeat in her ears reminded her of a stampede, and Aurora could only hope that her descent down the ladder was quiet enough to go unnoticed.
Finally her foot hit earth, and she stepped down and turned around. The voices had stopped, and she struggled to listen for movement in case she needed to hide or run.
She began feeling her way around the wall, careful not to run into anything. Then she had an idea.
She wore a leather vest with a connected high collar, closed by a series of belt-like clasps. She undid the straps and opened the collar just enough so that the flickering light of the skyfire in her chest lit up the darkness. It worked, allowing her to see enough to explore more quickly. She moved toward the barrels first, finding them empty. She quickly scanned the rest of the room, only finding a few rotted boards and piles of degraded linens. Finally, she made her way to a wooden door. She could see the barest hint of light escaping from beneath the door. Pressing her ear against the wood, she heard the stifled murmur of voices.
She managed to make out the words weapons and storms before she heard a shout aboveground, and the shelter door dropped closed with a loud thud.
“Jinx?” she whispered as loud as she dared. Her only answer was a loud crash as something was slammed onto the door. Suddenly, she heard voices coming not from above, but from deeper in the shelter. She ran across the room, using her hand to flatten her leather collar over her chest, smothering the skyfire light, and then hurled herself behind the supply barrels moments before the door she’d been listening at flew open.
