As they drag me into the shadows, away from the crowd’s prying eyes, my hope dwindles. Darkness engulfs us, and the sounds of the racetrack fade into the distance, replaced by my pounding heart in my ears. With each passing second, the shadows seem to stretch forever, and I can’t help but imagine the worst-case scenarios.
As my captor’s grip tightens around me, forcing my hands behind my back, cutting me off from my magic, I close my eyes and pray for a miracle. But deep down, I know I can’t rely on anyone else to save me. If I make it out of this alive, I’ll have to find a way to save myself.
I refuse to give up without a fight, and continue to struggle against my captor’s grip.
Stellanand I race down the street, our hearts pounding in sync with our footsteps as we navigate the labyrinth of narrow alleyways to avoid the squad cars or violent Epsilon. The sun—an unforgiving adversary—beats upon us, and sweat trickles down my temple as we pause behind a building, straining our ears for any sign of pursuing Blades or vengeful Epsilon. The memory of the gunshot—the bullet tearing through flesh to protect Stellan—replays in my mind.
I don’t regret my actions, but the weight of the consequences presses heavily on my shoulders.
When the coast is clear, I urge Stellan forward. We take off running again, our breaths sawing in and out as we push our bodies to their limits. The relentless heat saps our strength, and I silently curse our lack of stealth. In moments like these, I wish I had Leigh’s shadows to cloak us from view.
Despite the chaos and violence in the square, Stellan’s pleas for peace replay in my head. He wants a better future for the Nebula, one free from the cycle of oppression and retaliation. If he’s willing to negotiate with Leigh, find a common ground, and work together toward a peaceful resolution, then the bloodshed that stains our hands today can be the catalyst for change.
“In here,” I say to Stellan as I rap sharply on the rear entrance to Furies.
No answer.
I’m sizing up a window to break to get us off the street when the door cracks open, and a wide-eyed Meg appears. Her gaze switches between Stellan and me. She presses against the door, giving us enough room to slip inside.
We navigate through the cluttered stockroom before stepping into the main room, which is strangely lit and quiet in the off-hours. The stale smell of spilled beer and cigarette smoke clings to the drapes. As I settle the older man into a solitary wooden chair, the floorboards creak beneath my feet.
Meg approaches in her cat pajamas, clutching a dish towel and a bottle of antiseptic. Turning my hat backwards, I saturate the towel, and its sharp, medicinal scent fills my nose.
“I’m no healer, so this is going to hurt,” I warn Stellan. Before he can protest, I press the damp towel firmly against the deepest cut on his face. He curses, his legs kicking out reflexively. “Don’t be a baby. I saw you take a beating like a champ back there.”
Stellan snatches the rag. “You’re lucky you aren’t a healer; you don’t have a gentle touch or bedside manner.”
I laugh. “If you think this hurts, maybe I should have left you in the square. Was it your intention to rile the Epsilon up to attack?”
Stellan scoffs. “I wasn’t inciting violence.”
I glare at him. “You had to have known the idea of annexing Aurora from the rest of the country would anger many still loyal to the Council and the Crown. Not to mention the old ways.”
Stellan’s eyes flash. “I knew it would, but I didn’t say it to incite a riot,” he begins, his tone laced with a bitter edge as he sits tall, defiance in his posture. “I hoped it would make more people excited by the possibility rather than angry.”
Stellan spits a mouthful of blood onto the floor by my foot.
I scowl. “You want a safe space for Nebula to start over. That is admirable, but it’ll never happen. You can get a millionsignatures on a petition, and the Council will still push back. You’ll have a war at your door if you follow through on your plans.”
“I’m not looking to start a war.” Stellan sighs. “But I also feel it is in the Council’s best interest to let us go free.”
I inhale through my nose and exhale out of my mouth. “Aurora is too valuable.”
Stellan remains silent as he dabs at his wounds with the antiseptic rag, wincing each time the fabric contacts his battered face. The wound is deep, but it doesn’t require stitches like I thought. Despite the pain etched into his strong features, there’s a certain youthfulness about him, suggesting he’s in his late forties.
His eyes capture my attention—they hold a trusting nature that feels familiar, putting me at ease in his presence.
Meg, standing nearby, frowns. “I’ll get a mop and bucket. We need to clean this mess up before we open. There’s blood everywhere.”
“It’s a bar, Meg,” Stellan calls as she walks away.
She flips him off, and my eyes widen at the unexpected gesture. Brigid isn’t the only one who shares a close bond with Stellan. “Next time, go soil someone else’s!”
“You tried to get the rioters to stop, proving you care,” I point out to regain Stellan’s attention.
He shrugs. “Violence isn’t the answer, but neither is rolling over and playing dead.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” I retort, my voice steady but firm. “I haven’t forgotten or forgiven the hardships my family and I endured, but not all Epsilon are the problem. If you got to know Leigh as a person rather than just the wearer of the crown, you’d see she’s trying to make a difference. But she can’t when your articles make it impossible.”
