It’s midday, wherever we are, and it seems we are on a tropical island. Noting the humid air and knowing we need to dry off and warm up, I pull off my flight suit and corset as quickly as I can, fighting against that lull of darkness. As the soaked suit hits the sand, I slap my hands to my face, waking me up for just a moment.
We need a fire.
Dropping to my knees, I yank open the med bag and find the emergency blankets—they’ll have to do. We didn’t grab the survival bag, which has all the necessities for surviving in the wild. I toss the six blankets on the sand, moving to care for Trysten while the two of them can strip. Yanking the last part of his suit off, I take note of his blue lips and shallow breathing.
“We neeeed–tooo–gett himm warm,” I say to nobody in particular.
Already pulling off the last of her suit, Ciara drops down beside him in the sand, wrapping her arms around his pale body. Her eyes flutter closed, and it takes me a moment to pull the blankets around them, tucking them in, before turning to find Tate kneeling beside me.
“Heeerrre,” I chatter, my voice barely above a whisper as I pass hima crinkled, reflective blanket, its metallic coating gleaming in the sunlight.
I slowly unwrap my own, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like a weight. I have never felt this drained, a deep fatigue settling in my bones. Sleep beckons to me, but there’s one more thing I need to do. Trysten’s head is still bleeding, but at least the flow has slowed thanks to the ice water.
Stumbling, I reach for the emergency kit and nearly collapse on top of Trysten as I wrap the blanket around myself, trying to cover my body in warmth. With trembling hands, I pull out the glue patch and cleanser, my mind racing despite the fog of fatigue. I’m teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, but there’s no time to rest. I squirt the cleanser onto a gauzy pad and, with a sense of urgency, slap the glue patch onto his injury, hoping it will seal the cut before any more blood can escape.
Lying down beside Trysten and Ciara, I can feel the chill radiating from his body. Just then, I hear Tate collapsing beside me and then feel the weight of his body pressing against me from behind.
At last, I give in to the pull of the darkness just as I reach out, finding Ciara’s hand over Trysten’s chest. I clasp it gently, drawing strength from this small connection.
This isn’t how we die.
There’s only eternal darkness, a never-ending void that sucks every bit of light out of everything around me. As I strain to see, an endless expanse of black swirls eddy like a living, breathing thing, resembling an onyx-colored mist that consumes the very essence of life.
Even though my eyes are blind to my surroundings, my other senses are heightened. I can feelhispresence behind me, an undeniable warmth radiating from his solid form, a reassuring wall of muscle, offering me strength when I feel as if I have none. The fragrant scent of fresh citrus mingling with warm sandalwoodenvelops me, embracing me, filling my lungs, and easing my frayed nerves.
“Wake up, Soraea,” he whispers tenderly, his voice soothing, like honey dripping over warm tea, right into my ear.
His large hands find their way around my waist, tugging me closer and holding me against his protective body. Another wave of calm washes over me, loosening the tension as I instinctively lean into him, a soft hum of contentment escaping my lips.
But underneath this strange, fuzzy warmth, panic lurks as I attempt to wade through my foggy thoughts. I need to save them—I can’t let this horrible destruction continue. Only then do I hear the distant screams and desperate cries piercing the strange darkness.
Like a jolt to the system, I tense up and twist in his arms, grasping tightly onto the lapels of his jacket. “We have to help them,” I plead, my voice trembling. “Help me.”
I struggle to regain my bearings, but that never-ending darkness solidifies, becoming an impenetrable wall of obsidian. All I can feel beneath my feet is the solid, warmed stone—a reminder that I’m on the palace terrace in Mori, here for a party for the Queen.
Memories ebb and flow, becoming more clouded by the second, but the weight of his presence against mine shifts my anxiety into something bearable. I place my hand over the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, allowing it to ground me.
“Please, help me,” I beg, my voice cracking.
“I am,” he responds, his tone gentle and unwavering, as he brushes a few errant strands of my white hair away from my face, the only thing I can see in the dark. His fingers linger momentarily before his hands slide to the nape of my neck, sending a searing heat down my spine. I feel the soft press of his lips on my forehead. “Now wake up, beautiful.”
With a gentle shake, he nudges me from the dark abyss. My eyes fly open with a startling gasp.
As I glance around, I note that the sky is cloaked in shades of deep blues and pale pinks as the sun sinks below the horizon, its shimmering water glistening like scattered diamonds. Reality slams intome, crushing me. Our crash landing here was not just a nightmare, but reality. I shift slightly, catching a glimpse of Tate, his arms wrapped securely around my waist. Then I glance to my right, where relief washes over me when I feel the rise and fall of Trysten’s chest, assuring me he’s still alive. My hand is still linked with Ciara’s, and she, too, is steadily breathing beneath the blanket.
My body aches everywhere as I struggle to sit up. A painful headache jabs at my temples, making it feel like my head is splitting in two. The air around me is thick but warm, and there’s a strange, persistent sound like a bug buzzing in my ears. I begin to absorb the little details of my surroundings; earlier, I had been too overwhelmed.
To our rear, a dense forest of tangled trees with pulsing bands of light and vines stretches up to the sky. To my left, a jagged rocky outcrop juts toward the glowing cerulean water. My mind races, desperately trying to map it all and piece together the hazy memories clouding my mind. I can still feel the lingering touch of Anders’ lips on my forehead, but I know for a fact I haven’t been to Mori in the past year, and definitely not with him.
I shake loose the confusing memories and instead focus on the environment. I have no idea where we’ve ended up. Fragments of images flash back to me—screens flickering with alarms, the sky going from black to blue in an instant, then...I push at my temples, trying to recall the flash of land I saw just beyond the water.
Where are we?
I see the displays of our position—first, we were in Treon, then Ateria, a moment later in Thirik, and then we crossed into Kadora. The jolting of the transport definitely fits with what the displays showed.
I carefully move out of Tate’s arms, leaning over Trysten, and, with a trembling hand, peel back the bandage. Relief surges through me when I find that his wound is nearly closed up and the bleeding has halted. Sinking back onto my ankles, I exhale deeply. My survival instincts from Recon rush to the front of my mind, and for once, I’m grateful we were forced to learn them.
“Fire. Food. Water,” I remind myself.
