T he night wore on, and with each passing hour our battle grew more brutal. We fought the way wounded animals did, clawing for our lives as

we teetered on the edge of survival.

In the beginning, I had felt powerful—we all did. Luia was a capable commander and led her forces in stunningly orchestrated attacks. We shattered the humans’ stone walls and barriers with our magic users. The Wyshraj took to the sky and soared into the thick of their capital city. And my own magic was stronger than it ever had been, responding effortlessly. No one even came close to touching me.

I could feel Nura’s stolen magic calling to me, louder with every passing minute—perhaps because it had created me. To reach her, we would have to cut through countless waves of her dead soldiers. I knew I was strong enough to do it.

Yet, the power I had first found in killing faded so quickly. I realized that the more one had to lose, the more terrifying it became. I watched Caduan’s movements grow weaker, watched the flickers of pain on his face grow more pronounced, and fear clenched tighter and tighter in my chest.

I was certain that if I left him, he would be killed. No matter how many times he tried to tell me to move ahead, I remained with him.

We had made it past the second barrier into the city when I felt the shift

—like something in the deepest magics I drew from tore open. Fractured visions flashed through my mind.

I saw the Aran queen’s bloodstained, tear-streaked face.

I saw glowing amber—felt the power that radiated from it.

I saw Maxantarius’s confusion and interest as he cradled it in his hands.

I saw white stone rising into the clouds, and doors that opened like gaping jaws.

The images were so violent, so forceful, that I almost fell to my knees.

The only thing that steadied me was Caduan’s firm grasp on my arm.

“I felt it too,” he said, through heaving breaths. “The change. Did you see anything? Did you see where it is?”

My mind was fuzzy. I could barely form words. I mumbled something about a— a prison, an ivory slab nestled in the mist. I knew that place, I had been there, I—

“Where, Aefe?” Caduan pressed.

I reached deep within myself and grasped the thread that connected me to them.

I lifted my eyes, and of their own accord, they landed upon a spot in the distance—a pillar of ivory so far away that it was visible only as a single ghostly break in the waves.

Caduan followed my stare.

Something about the look on his face gave me a panicked, sickened feeling.

“No,” I said, grabbing his wrist.

But he simply used my own grip to pull me close, tilted my face to him, and kissed me.

It was only half a kiss, because I pulled away fast, just enough to open my mouth to protest, because I knew he was about to leave, that he was going to—

“There can be more than this,” he said, softly.

The last time he said this, you lost him. You lost him.

“No—” I begged.

But Caduan, despite his exhaustion, spoke to magic as easily as he breathed. He walked between the seams of space and time so smoothly that I didn’t even see him disappear.

When I reached out for him, he was simply gone.