I claw my way across the sparse forest, grateful to have avoided the worst of the obstacles, and when I’m finally close enough to properly discern Warner’s face, I pull back my invisibility.
I’m shaking with exhaustion.
I’d only barely recovered from being drugged nearly to death, and yet here I am, already about to die again. But when I look up, half-bent, hands on my knees and trying to breathe, I realize I have no right to complain.
Warner looks even worse than l expected.
Raw, clenched, a vein straining at his temple. He’s on his knees holding on to J like he’s trying to hold back a riot, and I didn’t realize until just this second that he might be here for more than just emotional support.
The whole thing is surreal: they’re both practically naked, in the dirt, on their knees—J with her hands pressed flat against her ears—and I can’t help but wonder what kind of hell brought them to this moment.
I thought I was the one having a weird night.
Something slams suddenly into my gut and I double over, hitting the ground hard. Arms shaking, I push up onto all fours and scan the immediate area for the culprit. When I spot it, I gag.
A dead bird, a couple feet away.
Jesus.
J is still screaming.
I shove my way through a sudden, violent gust of wind—and just when I’ve regained my balance, ready to clear the last fifty feet toward my friends—the world goes mute.
Sound, off.
No howling winds, no tortured screams, no coughs, no sneezes. This is not ordinary quiet. It’s not stillness, not silence.
It’s more than that.
It’s nothing at all.
I blink, blink, my head turning in slow, excruciating motion as I scan the distance for answers, willing the explanations to appear. Hoping the sheer force of my mind is enough to sprout reason from the ground.
It isn’t.
I’ve gone deaf.
Nazeera is no longer here, J and Warner are still fifty feet away, and I’ve gone deaf. Deaf to the sound of the wind, to the shuddering trees. Deaf to my own labored breathing, to the cries of citizens in the compounds beyond. I try to clench my fists and it takes forever, like the air has grown dense. Thick.
Something is wrong with me.
I’m slow, slower than I’ve ever been, like I’m running underwater. Something is purposely keeping me back, physically pushing me away from Juliette—and suddenly, it all makes sense. My earlier confusion dissolves. Of course no one else is here. Of course no one else has come to help.
Emmaline would never allow it.
Maybe I got this far only because she was too busy to notice me right away—to sense me here, in my invisible state. It makes me wonder what else she’s done to keep this area clear of trespassers.
It makes me wonder if I’ll survive.
It’s growing harder to think. It takes forever to fuse thoughts. Takes forever to move my arms. To lift my head. To look around. By the time I manage to pry open my mouth, I’ve forgotten that my voice makes no sound.
A flash of gold in the distance.
I spot Warner, shifting so slowly I wonder whether we’re both suffering from the same affliction. He’s fighting desperately to sit up next to J—J who’s still on her knees, bent forward, mouth open. Her eyes are squeezed shut in concentration, but if she’s screaming, I can’t hear it.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified.
I’m close enough to Warner and J to be able to make out their expressions, but it’s no good; I have no idea whether they’re injured, so I don’t know the extent of what we’re dealing with. I have to get closer, somehow. But when I take a single, painful step forward, a sharp keening explodes in my ears.
