I can’t look back.
The darkness is ahead of us—and so is the mountain ridge that Tamra described, which appears to be the only safe path through the storm now.
My heart sinks to see the rows of white tents all lined up across the plain so dangerously close to the edge of the wasteland. A wall of darkness rises up behind them, no farther than two hundred paces away from the back row.
There’s practically nothing between those fae and death. No ridge, no barrier.
All it will take is a single fae death… Hell, even a trail of dead apple seeds… and the darkness will breach the gap.
The dust storms alone will kill the rest of the fae in those tents.
My blood boils at how recklessly Karasi is risking her people’s lives in the name of power.
While Concord flies bravely on, my chest fills with the coppery scent of death, and a moment later, the sunlight vanishes.
We’re flying beneath crimson clouds.
Far across the valley to the right of the ridge, the dust storms rage, enormous tornados spinning across the ground and crashing into the mountains on either side.
Enormous beasts battle each other in the middle of the plain, the flow of ash across their bodies so thick that it looks like water rushing over them—and then through them when they smash to pieces.
I focus on the way ahead, urging Concord closer to the ground, where Tamra said the dragons had burned everything away. It should be safer there.
Sweat builds across my brow, and I fight against the panic rising within me. It’s a nameless panic fed by the whisper of the wind and the scent of death that enters my chest with every breath.
Finally, I make out the curve of the mountain’s ridge ahead, the circle of cliffs that protect the village that shelters within them.
“Concord,” I say, “don’t land. Fly low to the garden that sits in the shadow of the rock ledge. I will jump off your back. Turn as quickly as you can and return to Elowynn.”
She makes a low, keening sound. I don’t know how to interpret it other than I hear sadness in it.
“Thank you,” I say, pressing my face to her neck. “For helping me.”
There isn’t time for more. The garden appears below me, and I jump, calling on my power to ease my landing so I don’t break anything.
I expect the clearing to be filled with people, but it’s deserted, which worries me until I make out the lights in the village down the incline.
It’s barely past dawn. The village must still be waking up.
Thaden’s cottage, situated close by on my left, is also dark.
Concord banks swiftly overhead, turning back the way we came and in the next moment, she’s gone.
I’ve landed next to a patch of green vegetables circled by a row of herbs, and my boot must have crushed some of them when I landed, because their fragrance rises into the air.
I take it in. This fresh scent. Along with the soft hum of sounds in the distance. Sounds of life that have persevered despite the threat of darkness looming over it.
A soft, clanging sound reaches me, and I follow it along the path at the side of the clearing, entering the long tunnel that Thaden took me through when he first brought me to Galeia.
His forge is located within this tunnel, and the clanging sound draws me to him.
He’s standing at his anvil on the other side of the forge, tapping at a small piece of silver, shaping what must be intended to be a cog or maybe a hinge. A very small fire burns in what looks like a specially designed box next to him, emitting only the barest amount of smoke.
I allow myself a moment to appreciate how hard he has worked to help the people around him—all without relying on his power.
His concentration must be intense because he doesn’t notice my presence until I’ve taken a step inside.
His head shoots up before he spins to me, his bronzed eyes widening.
