P anic. Only panic. I could not center myself. Vines and flowers sprouted and died around my every footstep in a rapid, uncontrolled cycle.

No.

No, I did not accept it. I would not allow it. I would not let him go.

I ran, ran through people and soldiers and swords and axes and magic. I ran even though my lungs didn’t work, even though my skin and eyes burned. I couldn’t see. I could only feel.

“Aefe!”

I barely heard Meajqa’s voice, not even as he chased after me. “What happened?” he demanded. “Aefe— stop!”

I ignored him. I rushed to the shore until cold water shocked my feet, soaking through my boots.

Meajqa followed. “Where is Caduan?” “Gone.”

“Gone?” It was odd to hear Meajqa openly afraid. “Where? How?”

I did not answer. My gaze found the column of white in the distance.

Too far to reach by boat, at least not fast enough.

I wanted to step through the air, like Caduan did. How did he do that? He had never taught me. My magic was out of control. Meajqa needed to keep stepping back to dodge whipping vines that shriveled as quickly as they sprouted from the water.

I could not do this. I did not know how. I only knew how to—

You’ll find another thing to burn. It’s all you know how to do.

I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out Nura’s voice. She was wrong. She was wrong.

“Aefe!” Meajqa gripped my arm. “Is Caduan alive? You need to tell me if he isn’t.”

He is alive. He is alive. He will stay alive.

I pressed my palm to my chest. But my heartbeat was wild. My breathing was ragged and panicked. I could not ground myself in this.

“Aefe,” Meajqa pressed. “If Caduan is dead, then you need to tell me now. Because if he has died, then we need to retreat. We need to end this before more of our people are lost.”

“He is not dead,” I spat. I closed my eyes again.

No, Caduan was not dead.

I slipped into a memory—into the day he had let me listen to his heartbeat for the first time. The first time I had noticed the way every part of a living body was alive, in movement, in rhythm.

What do you feel, Aefe?

I reached down, down, down, through the magic that I drew from, through the magic that had created me. I reached across seas and stone, across the sky.

I felt a familiar pulse there, so far away.

“He is not dead,” I said again, more quietly, even though I did not mean to speak aloud.

How easy it was then, tethered to his heartbeat, to slip away into the air.