Darkborn
Author: Carrie Summers
Date: 2017-03-21 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: Read the heart-pounding series finale! Lilik is on the warpath. Behind her, House Ulstat is a smoking pit. Ahead, Mieshk Ulstat wields terrible magic from within an impregnable fortress. The battle approaches. Never mind that Lilik’s fighters are actually a ragtag assortment of smugglers and thieves. Forget that something is terribly wrong with the aether, leaving Lilik’s magic unpredictable. Lilik is the last hope for stopping Mieshk’s cataclysm. Unfortunately, Lilik’s problems aren’t limited to insurmountable odds and questionable allies. Ioene still holds secrets. A dark force has awakened
Publisher: Lonely Crag Press

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Places

People

Darkborn

Book Four

Shattering of the Nocturnai

Carrie Summers

Chapter One

“GET BELOW OR lash yourself to a mast!” Caffari yelled as she stomped past, her voice nearly stolen by the howling wind. “You fall overboard in seas like this, and you’re lost for good.”

The bandit queen leaned hard, shoes scrabbling for purchase on the tilting deck as she scrambled for the front of the ship. The forward deck was veiled by wind-tossed spray; when I caught a glimpse between gusts, Caffari was lashing her wrists to the wheel. Overhead, clouds roiled, bruised with vivid purples and greens. The wind whipped strands of hair into my eyes while salt spray scoured my exposed skin.

I swiped water off my face and searched for the nearest mast. I was not going below. No way. My stomach was already churning as violently as the surrounding sea. If I were going to die today, I wouldn’t do it vomiting in the bottom of the ship. Besides, if we sank, I’d much rather try to swim than be trapped in the hold.

As I staggered toward the mainmast, sailors ran past, weaving and stumbling over the rocking deck. Squinting against the spray, I searched the deck for Raav. His years of shipboard expertise on House Ovintak’s trading fleet had made him indispensable during the six days we’d spent fighting heaving seas. But this storm was far worse. Deadly, judging by the grim urgency in the smugglers’ movements. Surely Raav was somewhere on the deck helping with preparations.

Unfortunately, most figures were nothing but shadows in the storm. I couldn’t spot Raav in the spray.

A handful of smugglers had already gathered in a circle around the mainmast and were passing a coil of rope around the group, tugging it tight to secure everyone. I ducked under the loops of rope and helped pass the coil around.

Now and again, the spray parted, allowing a glimpse of the front deck. Caffari still stood at the wheel, stalwart. At the forward mast, a pair of crewmen lowered the sail, leaving just a small triangle exposed to the wind. Anything more, and the gale would tear the canvas to shreds. Less, and there would be nothing to keep our ship from being turned broadsides to the waves, smashed and sunk beneath the heaving gray waters.

The other sails had already been furled. After a last pass of the rope around the group, the smuggler beside me knotted the end. Now, we could only wait and hope. Tossed back and forth against my neighbors, I closed my eyes to the fury of the storm and opened my mind to the aether.

My connection to Tyrak was a solid link of comfort. Sheathed at my waist, his spirit swirled within the confines of the dagger. But otherwise, my mind felt only unbounded emptiness. No spirits dwelt near this vast and heartless tract of ocean.

Some course you led us on, Tyrak commented.

Don’t blame me. It was my Need.

Before leaving Araok Island, I’d gathered energy from the aether, hoping to conjure fair winds to push us straight to Ioene.

Unfortunately, the effects of my magic, called a duskweaving, weren’t under my control. Instead, fate and fortune decided how to fulfill my Need. And more often than not, I couldn’t even choose what I Needed. So when my duskweaving had finished, instead of calm seas and full sails, we’d ended up with a ship’s compass that no longer pointed north, but rather suggested a direction for our next tack.

Even so, I’d hoped the guidance would help us weave through the worst of the storms spilling off Ioene. Instead, the rotted device had steered us straight into this tempest.

Anger flickered when I thought of Trader Ulstat’s fleet, carried toward Ioene by another of my duskweavings. Unlike our ship, his vessels had been given the favorable conditions I’d hoped for.

Logically, I knew my Need had foreseen a part for him on the island. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

My thoughts fled as another wave threw our vessel high, her hull crackling with the strain. Moments later, the swell dropped away, sending the ship plummeting for the trough. I clenched my teeth over the scream that rose in my throat.

Caffari’s flagship, Shards of Midnight, was sleek as a hunting shark. Black oil darkened the outer planks of the hull, and her sails were the dark gray of a stormy sea. Perfect for smuggling. And with her expert crew, the Midnight was one of the few Kiriilti ships that could have survived the last six days at sea.

But this storm was beyond anything the most seasoned sailors aboard had encountered. As the first flash of lightning lit the decks, chased by ear-splitting thunder, I doubted the Midnight would bring us through the next hours alive.

The sun set as we plunged deeper into the storm, wind and rain pelting us and tearing rigging and cargo from the decks. Thrown by the frothing seas, a fish slapped a smuggler who was tied to the forward mast, knocking him unconscious. Nearby thieves yelled, but I couldn’t make out the words. Only the roar of the storm filled my ears.

After what felt like days, full dark surrounded us. With each flash of lightning, I saw men and women missing from the ranks, thrown from the ship by the merciless waves. Lost, forever. I hadn’t glimpsed Raav since the storm began. I could only hope he was still alive.

Snapping in the gale, the small sail tugged us against the wind, just barely keeping us cutting through the worst of the waves. Thunder boomed, a bolt of lightning striking the sea close enough that the smell of sizzling water reached my nose.

When a flash of light showed a rip forming in the sail, I began to give up hope. Closing my eyes, I dropped my mental barriers and once again searched the aether for help. No one answered.

My Need had altered the compass which had led us here. I wanted to believe we’d somehow come through this because surely I Needed to reach Ioene. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe through some inexplicable twist of fate, the only way to stop Mieshk Ulstat from shattering the world was for me to become lost at sea.

I feel responsible, Tyrak, I said as I forced my breath to slow, my heart to stop racing. If this was the end, I wouldn’t face it as a terrified mouse, but rather the flawed woman I was growing into.

For what?

For bringing you here, I said, thinking of what would happen to him if we sank. I’d die and enter the aether. But Tyrak would spend centuries rusting on the seabed. Eventually, the blade would disintegrate. What happens when a nightforged object is destroyed?

On Ioene—if the soul is worthy—they may join the aurora.

The answer didn’t give me confidence. Unlike on Ioene, where the aurora shimmered in the darkness, the night sky here was filled with nothing but stars. And now, storms.

If we go down, I’ll wait here for you—in the aether, I mean. Maybe you’ll be able to join me when the dagger crumbles. At least, I hope you’ll be able to.

Selfishly, me too, he said, failing to keep his tone light.

If I could give you anything, it would be a reunion with Zyri, you know.

I know, he said, extending a thread of warmth with the thought. But don’t give up yet, Lilik. My mother always said that life and hope are different words for the same thing. And you’re still very much alive.

Another crack of thunder. Another flash of lightning. But this time, I thought I glimpsed a shadow just over the next wave crest. A phantom of hard lines against the rolling swell.

Did you notice that? I asked.

Notice what?

Maybe it had been my imagination. I nudged the thief beside me and tried to yell the question in her ear. In the darkness, I couldn’t see if she responded, nor could I hear her answer. But when the next bolt flashed across the sky, I spotted it again, the dark silhouette of a ship.

Against my better judgment, I grabbed hold of the mast and wormed free from the ropes binding me. I shimmied up, craning my neck to look over the bow. Another flash confirmed it. We weren’t alone in the storm. Moments later, a chance parting in the clouds let in a shaft of moonlight that turned the roiling sea to liquid silver and outlined the masts and decks of the new vessel.

Just the sight of another ship was shocking, but when the vessel turned, granting a view of her sail, I gasped.

My soul leaped with joy at the sight of the shimmering colors. Outlined in glowing threads, a picture of Ioene rippled on the nightwoven sail of Zyri’s Promise, the ship we’d discovered on our first trip to Ioene. Whooping with excitement, I slid back down the mast, planted my feet on shoulders and into ribcages—earning a few disgusted glares—as I climbed down to the deck. There, I grabbed the end of a spare rope that was knotted to the base of the mast. For safety, I wrapped the rope around my arm—at least I was trying not to be an idiot—and trudged against the sheeting rain and howling wind to reach Caffari at the wheel.

Exhausted, she looked at me with something between admiration and disgust. “What are you doing?” she mouthed, her words lost in the shriek of the storm.

Frantically, I pointed. Maneuvering through the massive swell, Zyri’s Promise had circled around and now drew alongside us on the leeward side. At the helm, Captain Altak’s broad chest clearly marked him. Like Caffari, I guessed that he had tied himself to the wheel.

Caffari stared in shock, gripping the wheel as if a wraith had materialized on the deck.

Because of the mountainous waves, Zyri’s Promise couldn’t get closer than a hundred paces without the ships smashing together. I wasn’t sure what the captain planned until I saw Tkira, the first mate, staggering for the rail. She held a spear gun, the spear loaded. No doubt, a long rope attached the spear to a stout anchor point on the Vanished-built ship. They intended to pull us free of the storm.

Tkira fired, and the shot fell well short of our decks. Though I couldn’t see her face at this distance, I imagined her twisted scowl as she hauled the spear back and reset it in the launcher. As I watched, my stomach clenched. For safety, Captain Altak had sailed into our wind shadow. But the gale was still too strong. Tkira’s weapon didn’t have enough power to reach us. But if someone from our vessel shot—trusting the wind to carry the spear farther—it just might work.

Leaning to put my mouth beside Caffari’s ear, I yelled, “Do we have a speargun?”

She nodded, pointing to a stowage box in front of her. I staggered forward to retrieve the weapon.

Two smugglers were lashed to the foremast. I crossed the deck like a drunk, safety line trailing behind me. In response to my shouted instructions, one of the men knotted a rope to the mast and spear then helped me cock the gun.

As I stepped to the rail, the boiling clouds rolled back over the moon, plunging us into darkness once again. The glowing sail was a ghost in the storm, a phantom that appeared and vanished at the whim of the spray and waves.

Remember where the ship was, Tyrak said.

As he spoke, the sensation of his body curled out from the dagger, smooth as smoke. His hands fell over mine, steadying the spear gun. As I pulled the spear back to cock the weapon, he nudged the point of the small harpoon skyward.

Better if it sails all the way over than falls short, he said.

Wrapped around my arm, the safety line kept tugging at me, throwing off my aim. Finally, I shook free of the loops of rope then widened and steadied my stance. Head over my shoulder, Tyrak whispered encouragement in my ear. With a deep breath, I squeezed the trigger and let the spear fly.

As soon as the rope snapped tight beside my waist, my concentration fled. I staggered with the rocking of the deck. When the next wave hit, I sprawled, slamming the water-slicked planks with my chest. My fingers scrabbled for purchase as I tried to crawl toward the center of the vessel.

Another wave threw the boat hard to the side, and I slid toward the rail. My body smacked the posts, the impact rattling my teeth. Clutching desperately for a grip on the rail, I found nothing but empty air as the boat heeled hard in the other direction, sending me flying for the foremast. I slammed into the sailors lashed there, and by some miracle, one managed to get a grip on my shirt. I shoved my arm through the coils of rope binding the men to the mast and hung on.

Moments later, the mast groaned under the strain as the rope tied to its base grew taut. My shot had reached its mark. As Zyri’s Promise moved out in front of us, taking a position ahead and to port, timbers deep in the hull of Shards of Midnight crackled with the strain. But the mast held, and slowly our ship turned prow to the waves. Overhead, our small sail luffed, no longer needed to keep us heading into the wind and waves.

As we gained speed, Zyri’s Promise dragging us from danger, the smack of the swell began to relent. Froth from the wave tops slid across the deck, visible in the wan moonlight penetrating the thinning cloud cover. The rain eased and fell straight down rather than slicing diagonally.

Eventually, I sagged against the mast, my arm escaping the coiled lines as I slumped to the deck. Exhausted, I sank into darkness.

Chapter Two

THE SUN’S WARMTH sank into my body as I returned to awareness. Salt crusted my eyes shut, and when I rubbed them, they stung. Keeping my eyelids closed, I groped for a handhold to help me sit up. A garbled moan fell from my lips.

“Thought you meant to sleep the rest of the way to Ioene,” Caffari commented. “Hey, Lilik? Don’t panic.”

“Don’t what?”

A bucketful of frigid water splashed my face. I sputtered, slapping at the air in front of me. Caffari chuckled and shoved a rag into my hands. “Dry your face before you open your eyes. Keeps the salt out.”

Grimacing, I swiped the rag over my face. “Thanks?”

“Sorry about that. If I’d given a better warning, you’d have opened your eyes to see what was coming.”

I blinked, squinting against the sudden pain of midmorning sun. My vision was blurry, probably from the recent scouring by wind and spray. Ahead, half a dozen figures stood at the forward rail. Caffari crouched before me, none the worse for wear as best I could tell. She shoved a waterskin into my hands, and I took a few big swigs of the lukewarm liquid.

“Raav?”

“The mainmast suffered some damage. He’s helping some of my crew assess it.”

I blew air from my lungs in a relieved sigh. Still disoriented, I shook my head and sat up. The world spun. But as I planted my hands on the deck, I realized it wasn’t heaving or tilting. Not even a mild swell passed beneath the ship. After days of wild seas, I didn’t know what to think.

“What happened to the waves?”

“On the open water, they’re still rolling high enough to drown a stack of elephants. Zyri’s Promise dragged us here for shelter.”

“Where is here?” And what in the blue depths were elephants?

Caffari’s shadow moved off of me as she flung her arm in a gesture of welcome. Beyond the front rail, still a blurry mess, low hills rose from a band of blond-colored shoreline. I blinked again and my vision sharpened. Squinting, I spotted a few low buildings tucked amongst scraggly trees that tufted the hills.

“You familiar with the anchorage?” I asked.

Caffari’s mouth drew up at the corner. “Unfortunately, yes. The local population is not too fond of us. But the way I see it, if they wanted us to leave their merchant vessels alone, perhaps they should have reconsidered selling to Kiriilti trader Houses.”

I cast another skeptical glance at the low island. “Did you warn Captain Altak?”

Caffari rolled her eyes. “Of course. What kind of person do you think I am? He was quite surprised to learn that you and Raav were aboard, by the way.”

“Wait, so he didn’t know we were on the Midnight when he rescued us? I thought he must’ve been trying to chase us down.”

Caffari grinned. “He had no idea. Towed us free of the storm because he considered it a matter of honor. Couldn’t watch another vessel sink when he had an opportunity to help.” She snorted as if such virtuous actions were a sign of weakness.

“My Need…” I finally understood. “The compass wasn’t guiding us to Ioene. It was sending us to meet Zyri’s Promise.”

“Seems likely,” Caffari agreed.

“So Captain Altak got us to a safe harbor only to find you have a history of stealing from the locals?”

She shrugged. “I did what I could. Rowed over to your Captain Altak’s ship to warn him as soon as he dropped anchor. He claims to have a special relationship with the villagers. Said he’d smooth it over.”

I shrugged. “I guess he knows what he’s getting into, then.”

In the center of the ship, a small group had gathered around the mainmast. My chest warmed at the sight of Raav. He stood with his back turned to me, face tilted up to assess the damage.

As the men and women paced around the mast, gesturing, I noticed the weariness that hung over their frames. Had anyone else slept, or was I the only lazy fool aboard?

Flashes of the night before ran through my mind. Abruptly, I remembered the empty spaces on the decks where smugglers had been thrown from the ship. More deaths on my conscience. My shoulders slumped.

“How many did we lose overboard?” I asked.

“Overboard?” she said with a smirk. “Is that what you think of my sailors, so green that they were tossed over the rail the moment the seas got a little rough?”

I blinked, confused by her flippant comment. “Every time lightning lit the decks, people were missing. I’d assumed we’d lost them.”

“Unfortunately, my crew might be sea-savvy, but some of them appear to have a problem with cowardice,” Caffari said. “I found five of my newer recruits hiding beneath the tarp that covers the lifeboat. Guess they figured they’d be guaranteed a spot if they got there first.”

Not dead. Just hiding. My head was starting to throb. I dropped my cheek to my hand. “I was sure they’d been swept away.”

“Well, they may wish it when they’re done with their penance,” Caffari said as she moved off and began coiling a line. “Today they’ll begin by cleaning the drains for the toilet.”

I shaded my eyes as I scanned the water for Zyri’s Promise. She sat quietly at anchor between us and the shore. I spotted just one figure above decks, someone of small stature keeping watch from the crow’s nest.

“Hey, Caffari? Any idea how far off course we are?” I asked, gathering my legs beneath me.

Her coil finished, Caffari set it neatly on the deck and picked up another line. One arm’s length at a time, she ran it through her hands to check for frayed areas.

“The good news is your compass is finally proving useful,” she said. “Needle points straight for Ioene. Just a few days if we keep clear of the worst storms… That tempest wasn’t natural. No more than these constant high seas.”

“The storm season is arriving early. It’s Mieshk’s fault. I hope we’re not planning to drop anchor for long.” Planting a hand on the deck, I struggled to my feet.

“We hope to sail by sunset. I thought you might want to catch up with your captain while we finish the repairs.”

At once, cold gripped my chest. I’d have to tell him about Nyralit first thing. What was I going to say? How could I possibly find the courage to deliver the news that his beloved was dead?

The pounding in my head suddenly felt like the impact of a sledgehammer.

“Yeah. I guess I better do that,” I said.

I shuffled across the deck to Raav and slid my arm around his waist. He smiled as he dropped an arm over my shoulder. The callused skin of his palm snagged on my shirt as he rubbed his hand over my upper arm.

“Have a nice sleep?” he said with a smirk.

I tried to smile but couldn’t hold it. My gaze wandered back to Zyri’s Promise. Raav noticed and sighed.

“We’ll have to tell the captain,” he said.

I swallowed. “I need to be the one to deliver the news. I was there. It was my plan that got her killed.”

“But it wasn’t your fault, you know that right?”

Mostly, but knowing something in your head and feeling it in your heart were totally different things. Since the moment the sword entered Nyralit’s belly, I’d known I’d carry the guilt forever. The best I could do was learn to accept it.

Across the calm waters of the bay, a small cluster of figures emerged from the scrub onto the strip of yellow shore. After a few handshakes, three people detached and strode to the dinghy pulled up onto the sand. By appearances, Captain Altak had been successful in calming the locals. No small feat, I’m sure, given what I knew about Caffari’s skills as a smuggler and pirate.

As the three figures pushed the boat into the water and started rowing for their ship, I sucked my lower lip between my teeth. After a deep breath, I said, “No real point in delaying, I guess.”

“Will you let me come with you?” Raav asked.

I nodded before calling out to Caffari. “May we have use of the ship’s dinghy?”

She finished a knot to secure the coil of rope. “I’ll help you.”

We followed the smuggler astern. As Caffari pulled the tarp from the ship’s dinghy, she clucked her tongue with disgust. She leaned into the boat and dragged out a rucksack left behind by one of the would-be deserters. When she opened the drawstring and examined the contents, the contempt on her face grew.

“If they planned to abandon ship and leave us to our fate, they could’ve done better than pack caltrops, lambskin gloves, and lampblack. What good are thieves’ tools for a castaway?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Not only are they cowards, but they're also fools. I’m of the mind to leave them here. Let them scratch out a living as a sand farmer.”

“I doubt what we find on Ioene will be easier to handle than that fate,” I said.

Caffari’s mouth quirked. “Hmm. Good point. Always good to have a few expendable fighters. Ambush detectors.”

I didn’t know whether she was joking, so I nodded politely as I climbed into the boat. After Raav had joined me, Caffari shoved the winch arm to swing the dinghy over the water. Working the crank, she lowered us to the sea.

Raav took up the oars and started pulling for Zyri’s Promise. Our little boat rocked over the wavelets, wiggled and bounced when either of us adjusted position. As we neared the Vanished ship, the knot in my chest hardened. It was getting difficult to breathe.

I squinted over the bay, glints of sunlight sharp against the backs of my eyes. “I’m not sure I can do this,” I said quietly.

Raav nudged his toes against my calf. “You can. I’ve seen you do much harder things.”

“Like destroying House Ulstat in a column of flame? This is different. Maybe we should wait to tell him until the fight for Ioene is over.”

Raav narrowed his eyes at me. I knew what he was thinking. I’d never been good at telling the truth when a lie was easier.

But it wasn’t just my cowardice that made me want to avoid this conversation. What if Captain Altak’s grief kept him from commanding his ship? What if there was another storm? We needed his experience at the helm.

“If it were you,” Raav said, “I would want to know.”

“But she’s already gone. Whether he finds out now or later won’t change the situation.”

“Come on, Lilik. I know this won’t be easy, but you can’t lie to him. It’s just not what a friend should do.”

I flinched. My family still didn’t know about my deception with the nightstrands, and I’d hidden things from Paono until it was almost too late. Deep down, I often worried that people would abandon me if they knew the truth.

Just like now, I worried that Captain Altak would hate me for being there when Nyralit died. What if he’d always resent me as the person who delivered the news of her death?

The truth was, if no one else knew about her death, I might not be strong enough to tell the truth. I might even let him search for her after we retook Ioene. All because I was too weak to face his grief.

But today, I had no choice. He’d find out what happened on Araok Island from someone. It might as well be me.

We reached Zyri’s Promise just minutes after the delegation returned from the meeting with the locals. Tkira dropped a ladder for Raav and me. The ropes swayed back and forth as I climbed, cordage dried by the salt air rough beneath my hands. When I climbed over the rail, Captain Altak’s wide grin filled my view. Holding aloft a jug of what appeared to be whiskey, he called out, “Figured I better rush this back to my crew after last night’s efforts. Welcome aboard, Councilor Boket!”

Tyrak had been silent since I woke. But now, he brushed me with a tendril of encouragement. Swallowing, I planted my feet on the deck and looked around, only to stagger when a large hand clapped me on the shoulder.

“Now that we have our leader back, I’ve no doubt Ioene will be ours,” Jet said.

I turned to face the man I’d thought of as my general during the battle for Istanik. He looked the same. Earnest and loyal. The only real difference was a slight pallor in his color. Like me he probably had, a tendency for seasickness after a life spent on land.

“So, you’ve met Caffari,” I said. “What do you think of the Midnight?” I asked, my eyes flitting between Jet and Captain Altak.

A small crowd had gathered around us, a mixture of crew members from the Nocturnai and new recruits. Tkira stepped forward, a scowl twisting the scar that slashed across her cheek and brow.

“Glad to see you’ve made new friends,” she said. “But we thought you were dead, you know. Saw that rotted Ulstat schooner explode and sink. Just barely got clear when we glimpsed someone putting a torch to the fuse. Might have been nice if you’d found a way to get word to us.”

If I hadn’t known Tkira, I might have bristled at her words. But the harsh scolding was just her way of showing she cared.

“Nice to see you too, Tkira.”

Smirking, I scanned the gathered crew for another face. Gaff, the second mate, was nowhere to be seen. He’d been injured in the same attack that had led to Nyralit’s capture by the Ulstats.

As if noticing the growing worry on my face, Tkira stepped closer. “Gaff’s fine. Just recuperating and ordering people around with the butt of his crutch. Your mother and that old woman—grandmother to your Paono—are working with the Council to begin repairs and set up temporary leadership. And your mother has been hard at work caring for Istanik’s orphans. She’s quite dedicated to them.”

Making up for the years she lost with Jaret and me. The memory still stung, but it was easier to handle now. Raav’s hand pressed against my lower back, urging me away from the rail. With the mention of Gaff’s injury, the question of Nyralit’s fate wouldn’t be far behind.

My eyes met Captain Altak’s. Maybe something in my expression warned of the news to come. Or maybe he sensed it in another way. In any case, a curtain of doubt fell over his face.

“We should speak alone,” I said.

Eyes suspicious, the captain nodded. As he gestured for me to lead the way to his cabin, Raav fell in behind. I turned and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I’d like to speak to the captain by myself.”

Raav’s eyebrows twitched in surprise, but he nodded. “I’ll catch up with our other friends while I wait,” he said.

My eyes flicked to the captain. Tension roosted on his frame. I needed to get this over quickly to spare him the agony of suspense.

“Thanks,” I said quietly before leading the way to the cabin.

We entered the small room, Captain Altak quietly shutting the door behind us. He still carried the jug of whiskey in one hand, and now raised it. “Why do I get the feeling I won’t be celebrating today?”

Pressing my lips together, I stepped around the table and sat on the bench behind it. The wood was smooth and warm beneath my palms, but not slick. I remembered scenes from Zyri’s time, how the Vanished shipwrights had worked a particular resin into their wood planks. When fresh, it had smelled like licorice. More importantly, it protected the wood from decay. Zyri’s Promise was more than a thousand years old, yet her hull and furniture was as sound as the day she was launched.

Captain Altak had taken the seat across from me. I raised my gaze to his face, taking in the week’s worth of stubble that forested his jaw, the lines etched by many years at sea, the row of gold earrings shining in his right ear. He blinked, and the knot of cartilage at his throat rose and fell when he swallowed.

“Nyralit wanted me to tell you it gave her joy to know you escaped Trader Ulstat’s ambush.”

His jaw worked while he nodded. The captain’s features seemed locked behind a mask just barely tacked in place. One slip and his true feelings would break free.

“My guess is she was held prisoner aboard that schooner. Same as you. Got free before it sank.”

There was no hint of accusation in his voice, but I felt it all the same. I’d been with her, and if she was gone, it meant I’d failed to protect her.

“She saved my family, Captain.” I paused, curling my toes inside my shoes. “In Istanik Harbor, you asked me to call you Vidyul. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready to.”

He blinked as he nodded. “It’s your choice.”

I swallowed. “Vidyul, Nyralit was wounded during my family’s escape from the Ulstat manor house. An Ulstat guard got his sword past her defenses. The rest of us had to run, or they’d have captured or killed us all.”

The captain’s face started to twist. His hands, thick fingers relaxed upon the tabletop, began to tremble. Outside, gulls shrieked. Pulleys in the rigging rattled against masts when a breeze knocked the ship.

“But you don’t know for sure. You saw her take a sword and then…?” He trailed off as if hoping I’d finish the sentence in a way that would give him hope.

“For a time, I didn’t know for sure. But I know now, Vidyul. I spoke to her. To her spirit, I mean.”

The man’s eyes closed. Emotions crossed his face, one after the other. Sadness, grief, anger.

“She loved you—loves you still. She has no doubt you’ll be together again. None of this makes it easier. I know that.”

His jaw clenched as he opened his eyes. Eyes like the hard gray flint of the crags in the Outer Isles. “The Ulstats did this.”

“It was Ashhi’s plot. She’s dead now, but her father still lives. I’m sorry.”

He wrapped one large hand around the other and fixed his gaze on the tabletop. When he spoke, his voice was flat. “We need to be ready to sail before sunset. Please tell Tkira to see to our preparations.”

A tear slipped down my cheek as I stood. “Captain—Vidyul, can I do anything for you?”

He shook his head, eyes still locked to the table before him. “I’m glad it was you that told me. Nyralit cared for you deeply. She’d want you to deliver the news. But now I need time alone.”

Hesitantly, I laid a hand on his forearm and squeezed before heading for the door. The glare outside set my head pounding again. For a moment, the ache in my chest was too much to handle. But I swallowed and stepped out in search of Raav. We had a war to win.

Chapter Three

THE FIRST TIME I’d crossed the night line, I was a seventeen-year-old girl trapped in a lie. I’d been afraid of being discovered. I was hiding the truth from my best friend and fighting a daily battle against my guilt. But I hadn’t regretted what I’d done. The Nocturnai had been an opportunity to drag my family from the gutter and to prove I was worth more than the traders claimed.

I was naïve.

But I was brave, even then.

As the Midnight approached the night line, cresting heaving waves and sliding into their troughs, the sun plummeted toward the horizon. Ahead, a dark line crossed the sea as if a storm front hung low over the water. But the sky above was cloudless, and on the horizon, stars pricked the sky. Zyri’s Promise, her sail a glowing beacon over the black waters, had already crossed into the night.

During our last crossing, the days had been growing short beforehand. Our journey into night had been gradual. Nyralit had explained that the transition to darkness varied with every Nocturnai. The unpredictability was a result of the first cataclysm, I now understood. During the times of the Vanished civilization, the coming of the long-night was always a gentle transition. But after Mavek’s Hands had shattered the balance between fire and aurora, bringing on storms and destruction, the change of seasons had become violent and unpredictable. Sometimes night fell without warning, arriving like a thunderclap. Occasionally, night and day fought for control over the land.

I thought of the sudden nightfall on Araok Island. Together with Leesa Ulstat’s congregation of spirits, I’d cleansed the aether of the malice-filled Ulstat souls who had given darkness a foothold. But unless Mieshk was stopped, I had no doubt that night would win the Kiriilt Islands eventually.

Despite what lay ahead, I felt a thrill of anticipation as our ship cut a course for the looming darkness. Finally, I would end this. I’d join Paono, rescuing him after weeks and weeks of facing Mieshk alone. I’d have a chance to speak to Peldin, the Vanished spokesman. Zyri and I might finally communicate, not as before when her memories had filled my head, but as young woman to young woman. I could be a conduit for her reunion with Tyrak. And maybe with the living and the dead working together, we could restore Ioene to the paradise she had once been.

As the sun winked out, its last rays kissing the top of the mainmast, I closed my eyes and probed the aether for contact with the nightstrands waiting ahead. But we were still too far from the island. Aside from my connection with Tyrak, only emptiness answered my call. The aether was vast and formless. Yet at the very fringe of my perception, I still had the sense—first experienced on Araok Island—that a great malevolence lurked.

Unlike the Nocturnai’s voyage, where we kept the custom of burning only red flames, cheery yellow glow spilled from the ship’s lanterns when the crewmen set the wicks alight.

Raav was manning the helm. I paused beside him, stood on tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. The smile he gave me warmed me from the inside out.

Pulling my cloak tighter over the leather armor I now wore at all times, I turned for the ladder. As I moved about the ship, I was careful not to fiddle with the straps holding my armor in place. Caffari’s band had insisted on the extra protection, but they also laughed when I squirmed in response to its chafing. My discomfort might have been humorous at first, but it wouldn’t be now. Not with darkness surrounding us. The people aboard this ship needed a leader, not a novice who couldn’t handle sleeping in armor.

Inside my cabin, Tyrak slipped the bounds of the dagger. His ghostly presence joined me as I sat on my bunk, a quiet companionship that demanded nothing of me. When I opened my hand, I felt his warm palm slide over mine, our fingers clasping.

I’m worried I won’t live up to everyone’s faith in me, I said.

I’m sure every leader in history has thought the same thing. But they kept going, and that’s what matters.

We were silent for a while as the boat rocked and heaved around us.

I’m nervous too, he said at last.

About?

Zyri. A thousand years is a long time to be separated. What if her feelings have changed?

They haven’t. I had her memories, remember. All of them. To her, your lives together feel like they were yesterday.

For me, too. A wave of nostalgia joined his words. Just one step back in time, and we’re together on a beach during the long-day. Another, and I remember diving into the waves together when we were little.

I remember playing at one of those beaches with you. You were a skinny little kid.

But I grew up, he said in a tone that sent my belly fluttering. I’m sure you remember some details about that, too.

The blood rushed to my face as I recalled his lips on mine and the feel of his strong arms around me. On Araok Island, I’d talked to him and Raav. It hadn’t been easy, but I’d explained the confusion I felt by having held Zyri’s memories of Tyrak. Most importantly, I’d declared my intent to be with Raav exclusively. But I couldn’t keep the memories of loving Tyrak from affecting me sometimes.

Sorry, Lilik. I didn’t mean to bring that back up.

I squeezed his hand before releasing it. Soon enough, he’d be reunited with Zyri, and the awkwardness would be over.

Slipping out of my shoes—I was not going to sleep in those, even if I’d agreed to keep the armor on—I crawled under the covers and pillowed my head on my arm. As I sank toward slumber, images of Ioene’s burning crown danced before my eyes.

And behind it, looming evil swirled.

Chapter Four

AT THE FIRST glimpse of Ioene smoldering on the horizon, every rogue and thief aboard the Midnight rushed to the forward rail. Cold awe settled over the group, and they parted to allow me through the crowd. Laying hands on the rail, I watched the mountain burn, red fire tumbling down all sides, steam billowing to join the tower of ash above the peak.

Ioene. I closed my eyes and cast my thoughts into the aether.

Peldin?

Silence echoed my thoughts.

Hello?

As I stared at the volcano, listening to the absolute stillness in Ioene’s aether, frigid unease filled my heart. Were the strands gone? And what about Paono?

I left the rail, trying to keep a determined and confident expression on my face. Mieshk couldn’t have fed all the spirits to Ioene—her power had grown, but the devastation wasn’t yet close to the cataclysm caused by Mavek’s Hands. Besides, even though the lava ran higher from the mountain’s crown, the aurora still shimmered above the ash plume. Fire hadn’t won. Not yet. There had to be another explanation.

Large waves still rolled beneath Shards of Midnight. Timing my movements to work with the heaving deck, I made my way toward the helm. With each wave that threw the vessel high, I stopped and clutched something solid—piles of cargo lashed to the decks, a mast, the rail. Caffari smirked at my slow progress while I approached.

Unlike me, she stood at ease on the swaying deck, fingers lightly pinching the pegs on the wheel. But when she looked from me to the approaching volcano, a mix of awe and nervousness fell over her face.

“Well, we made it,” she said.

“How long before we reach the shore?” I hoped it would be soon. I wanted to get close enough to contact the Vanished and dispel this worry about the empty aether.

Caffari squinted ahead. “About that… Seems your captain predicted true.” She gestured with her chin toward the sea before our ship. “You can just start to see the spray coming off sections of reef. Vidyul said the shoals were a hazard in calm water. We won’t have a chance of navigating them in this swell.”

Peering, I could just barely make out the phosphorescence in the spray that fountained where waves crashed on the lava reef.

I’d forgotten about the shoals. They were an obstacle even during calm seas. When the Nocturnai’s ship, the Evaeni, had approached the island, I’d been hit on the head during the chaos as the crew contended with the difficult navigation. I’d lost my figurine and set off a cascade of troubles.

Surely, the shoals would be impossible to sail through with waves this size.

Off the port bow, Zyri’s Promise had stopped. Silhouetted by Ioene’s fires, her crew scuttled about the deck, lowering and furling her shimmering sail. The glowing colors winked out, extinguished when shrouded with an ordinary canvas tarp. We wouldn’t hide our presence from Mieshk indefinitely, but for now, stealth was better.

“Boss?” Daonok asked as he trotted over, as comfortable on the rolling deck as Caffari.

The bandit leader nodded. “We’ll bring down our sails too. Get a handful of crew on the rigging, the rest on the oars.”

Caffari’s right-hand man cast her a wry smile. “They going to draw straws for who has to pull the oars like a slave and who gets to coil a few ropes?”

“It’s your job to pick who does what,” Caffari responded. “It won’t bother me if you take a bribe or two. Privilege of authority.”

As the crew worked, waves carried us closer and closer to the reef and the volcano. Sitting on a sack of spare sailcloth, I closed my eyes. A light breeze tickled my face. Now and again, a swirl of the air brought steam from the shore. Warm and damp in my nostrils, the air smelled of cinders. I thought I caught a hint of kivi blossom perfume, but that might have been wishful thinking.

As I opened my eyes, a light began to blink from aboard Zyri’s Promise.

“Caffari,” I said, pointing.

She’d already noticed. The bandit nodded, her lips moving silently as she watched the signal. When the blinking light went dark, she turned to me.

“Did you get that?”

“Get what?”

Caffari chewed the corner of her lip. “Right. Land-born and land-raised. You wouldn’t know the sailors’ signals.” She smirked. “Your Captain Altak has quite a vocabulary with his hooded lantern. He uses a few signals I thought were known only by those of us in the less-than-honest trades. Could it be he has a bit of piracy in his history?”

I rolled my eyes at the thought. Captain Altak might not fit the usual gutterborn or trader mold, but he was far too honorable for thievery. Most likely, he’d learned the signals during the years he and Nyralit voyaged far and wide between Nocturnais.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He suggested we douse the lanterns, turn south and skirt the shoals to their end. Thinks we have a good chance of making harbor at Ashkalan.”

I nodded. Heading south would take us past Mieshk’s last known location. So far, we’d followed the traditional approach used by Kiriilti Nocturnais. The old village and pier, built on the eastern coast of the island, had been destroyed in Ioene’s first major eruption after our arrival. In the following chaos, I’d fled south, only to be chased by Mieshk and her followers.

Near the southernmost extent of the island, a hidden lagoon had provided sanctuary for my small group of rebels. Between this lagoon and the original village, Mieshk had established a base of operations. Though we had no way of knowing where she was now, that beach seemed the best place to start looking.

Beyond the lagoon, the coastline turned north again, and on the side of the island opposite our original Nocturnai village, the city of Ashkalan encircled a protected harbor.

“Can you ask him whether he’s considered going around to the north?” I asked. Until we had our bearings, it might make sense to avoid Mieshk.

“He said you’d ask that,” Caffari said, smiling crookedly. “Said it’s unexplored. Better to get the ships to safety before we strike out into the unknown. I doubt we’ll find another Vanished ship to take us home if we lose these two.”

I nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Going dark!” Caffari called across the deck as the lanterns aboard Zyri’s Promise winked out.

A trio of thieves jumped up and started snuffing lanterns. Soon, both ships were nothing but shadows in the night. From this vantage, Ioene’s fires haloed Zyri’s Promise, but from shore, we’d be nearly invisible.

As the oars began tugging us forward, adding stomach-churning motion to the seesawing caused by the waves, I wondered if other vessels were haunting the nearby sea. We had yet to catch a glimpse of the three ships Trader Ulstat had stolen. Given the extra help he’d received from my duskweaving, I had to assume he was somewhere near the island already.

The line of spray marking the shoals fell away toward the island, and Captain Altak steered Zyri’s Promise closer to shore to match it. Once we drew within a few thousand paces, I probed the aether again.

Nothing.

Rot. I clenched my fists.

What is it, Lilik? Tyrak asked.

The aether’s empty. There’s no one. How could the strands just disappear?

As we veered closer to shore, the scale of the changes on the island stole my breath. In the sky, the aurora created an ocean of tranquil light, nearly as bright as the heavens just before dawn. Beneath, the mountain roared, a constant spray of cinders and ash fountaining while jets of lava spewed in all directions.

Abruptly, I felt a tingling in my scars that I hadn’t sensed since leaving the island. Before, I’d needed to touch Ioene to feel her power, but now the air felt saturated with raw magic. But no nightstrands. Why?

Still resting on the sailcloth, I reclined and let the lights from the heavens sink into me. Maybe I’d have a better sense of what had happened once I laid hands on the island.

Moments later, hissed calls to attention traveled through the crew. Captain Altak was signaling again. I stood and looked to Caffari, waiting for translation.

After a moment, she nodded. From a small chest bolted to the deck beside the helm, she pulled out a spyglass.

“Vidyul says there’s a channel through the shoals. Not wide enough for the ships, but we can take a dinghy through.” She raised the glass to her eye, bracing a knee against the pedestal supporting the ship’s wheel. “And it appears your Ulstat friend hasn’t moved much.”

Returning her hands to the wheel, she handed me the spyglass. The brass housing was cold around my eye as I peered.

My brows raised. No, Mieshk hadn’t gone far. Set back from the beach where I’d first huddled beneath a trio of boulders, the Ulstat heir had constructed a fortress. Guard towers defended the compound at each corner, and the tops of the walls were studded with so many torches the walls themselves seemed to burn.

“But she’s been busy,” I said.

Caffari nodded, holding a finger aloft while she mouthed more words. Once again, Captain Altak was signaling.

“He asks whether we should send a boat to scout.”

As I was considering my answer, Raav came striding over the deck and joined me. When he entwined his fingers with mine, I noticed that his calluses had been pinched into sharp ridges from holding a pair of oars. He’d probably volunteered for the duty.

“Lower the dinghy and muffle the oars,” I said. “Let’s see what we’re up against.”

With Daonok working the oars and Raav manning the rudder, I sat on the rowboat’s bench and felt Ioene drawing closer. With each stroke of the paddles, the tingling in my scars and the sensation that magic drenched the air only grew stronger. Yet the aether was still a vacant cavern.

We drew even with Zyri’s Promise and waited while Jet clambered down the ladder. When he stepped into the boat, it tilted hard, nearly tossing me out.

“Sorry,” he said, his face dark with embarrassment.

“You aren’t the only gutterborn land-dweller here,” I said to set him at ease.

Once we’d shoved off from the Vanished ship and had paddled out of earshot, I licked my lips.

“There’s something I have to tell you all. Please bring this news to Captain Altak and Tkira as well. The nightstrands are gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Raav asked. “Mieshk? She destroyed them?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I think we’d be in much bigger trouble if she had. But I can’t contact them. I don’t know what it means.”

“What about your magic?”

“Useless until we can figure out what the problem is.”

I watched Daonok while I spoke. Raav and Jet would be loyal to me no matter what. But Caffari’s band had only agreed to follow me after seeing what my duskweaving could do. Daonok had a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Well,” the small thief said after a while, “I guess we better figure it out. I’ll tell Caffari, but you’d be a fool to share with the others.”

Though his words grated against my new resolve to be more honest, I agreed with his assessment. I just had to hope I wouldn’t be trapped in another deception for too long.

The narrow channel presented little trouble for our small boat. Soon enough, we floated on the calm water inside the reef’s protection. Around us, the ocean looked like rumpled black silk, studded here and there with the glow of the jellyfish. After so many days being tossed by wild seas, the absence of motion made me feel vaguely queasy.

Apparently, when it came to seasickness, I just couldn't win.

At one end of the beach where Mieshk had encamped, a lava river flowed into the sea. Before we’d left Ioene, it had crept slowly into the water. But in the intervening time, it had grown from a narrow stream to a full torrent. Molten stone oozed over itself, massive bulges and bubbles black on the outside with fiery innards. A ridge I’d climbed during my last visit had been completely buried by the flow. A wide fan of superheated stone reached into the shallows, the nearby water steaming and boiling.

Hot mist soon coated my skin, joined by an occasional cold splash from the oars. The lava roared where it entered the sea.

Without speaking, Raav turned the boat to parallel the shore, skirting the inner edge of the shoals. Everyone in the boat sunk low to the rails. Though we were far enough from shore I doubted we’d be seen, the precaution couldn’t hurt.

When we drew even with Mieshk’s fortifications, I once again raised the spyglass to my eye. I gasped at what I saw.

Formed of heavy blocks of stone, the outer wall of Mieshk’s compound was taller than two men. Inside, more torches—hundreds of them—had been plunged into the rocky soil, the light vying with Ioene in brightness. I’d already noticed the guard towers at the corners of the walls, but now that we were closer, I spotted more perches for sentries outside the compound. These smaller towers were more like pillars. Just a little taller than me, they were capped with a low wall providing some cover for the guard atop the tower.

Even within the walls, another half-dozen stations provided a vantage for sentries who stood with freshly-crafted bows at the ready. At the center of the camp, surrounded by smaller barracks which I assumed Mieshk had built for her followers, a massive stone keep, three stories tall, rose above the landscape.

But the real shock was in the stonework. Though it looked like the walls had been originally built from stacked blocks, the stone had the glassy shine of rock that had been melted and fused. It would be impossible to climb the outer wall—or any of the structures within for that matter. And more, I doubted the strongest battering ram in the history of warfare could knock down the walls.

“Well, at least Trader Ulstat isn’t here,” Daonok said.

“Not sure that’s a positive,” Jet commented. “Seeing as we don’t know where else we might run into him.”

I handed the spyglass off to Raav. As he examined the camp, his shoulders slumped. But he didn’t give voice to his concerns. Instead, he noticeably collected himself and turned. “Seen enough?”

“Yes—wait.” I held out my hand for the spyglass. When I peered again at the camp, my brows drew together in puzzlement.

All told, Mieshk had around thirty guards watching over the encampment. If everyone we’d left behind was still alive, that was around half her force. A surprising level of vigilance. Backs were stiff, heads turning. Within the camp, no one shirked a duty. Each follower moved with purpose, knees high as if marching. How had she managed to inspire that amount of obedience? With the food stores surely depleted and little knowledge of foraging, her followers had to be exhausted. Yet for some reason, they moved almost like puppets.

Shrugging, I pressed my lips together. “To Ashkalan?”

Raav nodded and smiled, probably remembering our talk from what felt like years ago about rebuilding the city together. “To Ashkalan.”

Chapter Five

AS SHARDS OF Midnight followed Zyri’s Promise around the southernmost part of the island, I scanned the shore. Somewhere near this point, an underwater passage led to the lagoon that had been our sanctuary. Within the hidden amphitheater, a strange glowing mural decorated the wall. Painted by someone who’d lived during Vanished times, the painting showed Ioene with a shimmering figure on her shores. Though we’d never learned the meaning of the painting, the color of the depicted person had been eerily similar to the pearly glow from my scars.

Thinking of it, I pushed my sleeves back from my forearms. Back home in the Kiriilt Islands, my scars had seemed to fade. But now, not only had they begun to tingle again, but they also shone as bright as a full moon.

I couldn’t spot the lagoon and its mural, though I’d hoped I might spy a hint of its glow. Or maybe even a red flicker of torchlight. Peldin, the speaker for the Vanished, had volunteered to lead Paono to the lagoon. But with Mieshk’s fortress not far, I expected Paono would have found a new refuge.

With good fortune, there was a similar explanation for the absence of the nightstrands. Maybe they’d found some sort of sanctuary from Mieshk’s temptation. The problem was, whatever they’d done had hidden them from me too, and I suspected I’d need their help to defeat Mieshk.

Speaking of… As we rounded the final curve and began sailing northwest toward Ashkalan, I suppressed a shudder at the thought of Mieshk’s guards standing at such rigid attention. Moving with such strange alacrity. Together with the empty aether and the looming evil at its edge, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I understood far too little.

There’s more going on here than we expected, I said to Tyrak.

With Mieshk’s fortress, you mean?

Well, that’s part of it. I hadn’t imagined she’d be organized enough to build something like that. The fused walls… Have you ever seen something similar?

She commands the fire, Tyrak said. No doubt she used her power to seal the stones together. But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?

I shook my head. Why are the strands gone? At first, I thought they might be hiding from Mieshk somehow. But I guess I’m worried it’s more complicated than that.

Tyrak remained silent as he considered my words. Before he had a chance to respond, Raav joined me at the rail. On this side of the island, the waves were smaller, maybe because the mountain’s flank stood between Mieshk and us. And the shoals and shallow reefs had petered out, allowing us to sail closer to the shore.

“Not far now,” Raav said as he laid his hand over mine. “I admit there were times over the last few weeks when I worried we’d never return to Ashkalan. Especially not together. I know we have a lot ahead of us still, but we shouldn’t forget how far we’ve come.”

He lifted my hand from the rail and laid it on the back of his neck. I turned into his embrace while he lowered his lips to mine.

“We’ll rebuild it together, right?” he whispered after the kiss.

I wanted to share his optimism. It would be nice to fall into fantasies about living here after the Ulstats were vanquished and the island healed. But dozens of doubts whispered in my thoughts, a fog of muttering phantoms. How was I going to find Paono? He could be anywhere on this huge, night-bound island. How were we going to get past Mieshk’s defenses? Where were the strands?

And even if we had all those answers, we couldn’t forget Trader Ulstat and his mercenaries.

I forced a smile onto my lips. I did appreciate Raav’s words and his dreams for the future. And I hoped we’d have that chance.

“I noticed you shaking your head a moment ago,” Raav said. “You no longer talk out loud to empty air, but a keen observer can still tell when your thoughts are in the aether. If you’d made contact with the Vanished, I suspect we’d hear about it right away. So I assume you were talking with Tyrak. How is he handling the strands’ absence?”

I pressed my lips together. I should’ve asked you that earlier, I said to Tyrak. You were expecting a chance to talk to Zyri today.

A wave of melancholy flowed from the dagger. I’ve waited a thousand years. Another day isn’t much in comparison.

Well, I’m sorry you have to wait another minute.

“He’s brave,” I said to Raav. “Doing well, considering.”

And don’t forget, even with the nightstrands missing, I still get to see Ashkalan.

“But he’s returning home for the first time in centuries. We might think it’s been a long time since we saw Ashkalan, but we’ll never compete with Tyrak.”

Raav chuckled. “One of the many ways I’d never try to compete with him. But—” He pulled me close. “There’s one prize I’d fight anyone to the death for.”

Ah, yes, but you can’t fight what you can’t see. Tyrak slipped, ghostly, from the dagger. With a tickle of amusement, he laid a phantom kiss on my cheek. It will be our secret, he whispered in my ear.

As Raav bent to kiss me again, I waved my hand in the air to try to shoo Tyrak away. Tyrak laughed.

Hey, Tyrak… I said as Raav pulled away. We will find Zyri. I swear it. The nightstrands can’t be gone for good.

I hope you’re right, he said, his voice wistful.

Me too, I thought, keeping the words to myself.

As we drew near the entrance to Ashkalan’s harbor, I asked Caffari to signal the captain. As if understanding why I’d called a halt, Zyri’s Promise lowered her dinghy to the water, and Tkira and Jet fetched Raav and me from the Midnight. From the open sea, we couldn’t see all the way into the harbor. A very narrow passage between cliffs guarded the sheltered water. Those tight-pressed walls could also hide Trader Ulstat’s small fleet from view.

After we’d settled into the boat, Jet rowed us into the channel connecting the harbor to the sea. Towering high above us, the cliffs seemed to welcome me back. But my excitement at returning was nothing compared to the thrill I felt from Tyrak. His spirit swirled inside the dagger, as eager as a pack of hunting dogs awaiting dinner.

Tkira, on the other hand, looked ahead, sullen anger on her face. No doubt she’d recently heard the news about Nyralit. Reaching forward, I laid a hand on her shoulder, surprisingly bony considering the wiry muscle in her arms.

“When we return to Araok Island I can help you speak to the strandmistress,” I said quietly.

She blinked as her lips twitched toward, but didn’t quite reach, a smile of gratitude. “Miss that woman,” she said gruffly. “Flowing silks and soft hands and all. Ten times stronger than she looked.”

Raav was sitting behind Tkira. I looked away from his smile of affection for the coarse woman. Otherwise, I might smile too and give her the idea I was mocking her.

“And here we are,” Jet said. “Ashkalan…”

His words died in his throat as we crossed from the narrow channel into the open water of the harbor. The instant the channel walls fell behind, fear slapped me, a frigid wave to the face.

I nearly cried out.

“What is it?” Tkira whispered, only to turn white and wild-eyed moments later.

I didn’t answer, only pointed at the city above. Built upon a set of terraces reaching high up the mountain, Ashkalan had once surrounded the harbor like a gray-robed priestess cradling a child. But now, the city had been corrupted—I had no doubt of that. Dark symbols had been painted on the terrace walls, ancient runes in a language I didn’t understand. It was neither the flowing script of the Vanished nor any of the alphabets used by the Kiriilti.

But even if I couldn’t read the symbols, I had no doubt as to their meaning.

We were not welcome here.

“We have to go. Now.”

“Rot, I think I’m going to—” Jet gagged and coughed and nearly lost his breakfast over the rails. He dropped the oars and slumped, trembling, into the bottom of the boat. His eyes darted back and forth, and his mouth went slack with fear.

I whipped my gaze to Raav. Ordinarily dark and smiling, his eyes held dread.

Swallowing the metal-taste in my mouth, I grabbed the oars and started turning us around. After a moment, Raav shook free of his trance.

“Grab the tiller,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll row.”

As we switched spots, his gaze kept flitting to the dark runes on the wall. Mine too. What had happened here?

“Do you feel it?” Tkira said. “The presence?”

At once, I knew Ashkalan was the source of the hungry malevolence that had been waiting for me for days. Evil lived here, and we’d delivered ourselves to its gaping maw. Death watched us from above. From all around.

I closed my eyes as Raav yanked the oars, pushing us toward safety. Our progress felt so agonizingly slow. Any moment, we’d be turned inside out. Made hollow.

When we crossed back into the narrow channel, the sensation vanished as quickly as it had come. I took several shaky breaths before I could uncurl my fingers from the tiller.

“What in the rotted fish guts was that?” Tkira spat.

“I felt hollowed,” I whispered. “Any longer and—”

What did you just say? Tyrak asked.

“I felt that one more minute there and I’d be scraped clean on the inside. Nothing left. A sucked-dry shell.”

The fear I felt from Tyrak’s spirit at that moment was as strong as any emotion he’d shared with me.

The Hollowness, he said. Some called it the Hunger.

You know what was wrong with Ashkalan?

During the cataclysm, there were a few who speculated the breaking of our islands was more than the fire spawned by Mavek’s rogue coven. Outcasts mostly. No one paid them much heed when they talked of a shattering in the aether. A great hollowness lying beneath, jealous of our vitality.

As we coasted through the channel, Jet blinked, recovering from the experience. After a moment, he climbed onto the bench and took the oars.

He took a deep breath before speaking, his eyes darting back toward the city. “We best get back aboard the ships. Need to find a safe anchorage.”

I swallowed. “Everyone’s tired. We need rest.”

Tkira and Raav nodded agreement.

“As long as it’s far away from here,” Tkira said.

Chapter Six

CAFFARI AND CAPTAIN Altak turned the ships around, sails flapping as the big vessels came about and caught the wind again. A short distance back along the coast toward the lagoon, we’d spotted a small scoop of a bay earlier in the day. On the way there, as our ships slid over the waves, I thought about Ashkalan. Those symbols on the wall. Who’d made them? Was Tyrak’s story about the hollowness true? Maybe Mieshk had done something to Ashkalan. It might explain how she’d gained so much power even without the figurine. But from what Tyrak said, that story had come from an isolated few.

Still…the similarities were eerie. I shuddered at the memory of how it felt inside the harbor. No matter how I tried to focus on other things, I couldn’t rid my mind of the sick feeling I got every time I thought of Ashkalan.

Raav seemed equally affected. He’d hardly spoken since we climbed back over the Midnight’s rail.

After we reached the bay and dropped anchor in the shallow waters, Caffari summoned a pair of her smugglers and sent them ashore in the dinghy to scout. Soon after, I gathered with Caffari, Daonok, and Raav at the bow of the ship. The crew of Zyri’s Promise lowered their rowboat with Captain Altak and Tkira inside.

Their oars splashed quietly as they approached. From behind me, came the constant rumble from Ioene’s fiery belly. But in my head, there was only the sound of my circling thoughts.

Once Captain Altak and Tkira climbed aboard, they joined us near the ship’s bow. A grim mood cloaked our group. Things were much more troubling on Ioene than we’d expected.

“About Ashkalan,” I said. “Tyrak spoke of a legend from his time. A great hollowness underpinning our world and aether. He doesn’t know if there’s any truth to it.”

The silence held while wavelets slapped the Midnight’s hull. Agitated by the motion, phosphorescent algae made a glowing ring around the ships. More lines of shining aquamarine lit the tideline where wavelets met the gravel shore.

Captain Altak’s face was drawn. Though it had been just a few days since I told him of Nyralit’s fate, he already looked thinner. Pale. “There’s much we don’t know,” he said. “Your nightstrands are gone, and your friend Paono is nowhere to be found.”

“Not to mention, we haven’t spied Trader Ulstat yet,” Caffari added.

“We won’t solve anything tonight,” I said, glancing at the rising moon. It was the second moonrise since I’d slept, and my thoughts felt both rigid and slow. “Agreed?”

“Agreed. For now, let’s talk about rules,” Captain Altak said. “No one goes ashore unless it’s necessary. What else?”

I glanced toward shore, looking for the scouts. Though I couldn’t see them, toward the east end of the beach, the night foliage rustled. “We need a safe perimeter,” I said.

Caffari nodded toward the beach. “Their first task is to find spots to set lookouts. Afterward, we’ll clear what foliage we need to give good sightlines on any approach.”

“We sleep on the ships,” I said. “If the mountain erupts like last time, we’ll want to be able to immediately back them off from the shore. We can’t afford to lose these vessels like we did the Evaeni.”

At the reminder, Captain Altak grimaced. Surely, the mention of the ship he’d shared with Nyralit only made her loss all the more painful. I wished I hadn’t had to bring it up.

“We keep the oars ready,” Caffari said. “Sails neat but loosely furled. If anyone raises the alarm, we retreat. It doesn’t matter who spotted the danger. There’s too few of us to begin with. We simply can’t lose people before our fight even begins.”

When she finished speaking, she pulled a throwing knife from the small pocket on her thigh and started cleaning underneath her fingernail. I felt a twinge of amusement. I could learn a lot from the bandit leader about how to look casual even when I was terrified.

“So what’s next?” Raav asked. “How do we move forward?”

I searched the others’ faces for ideas, but everyone was looking at me. I’d brought them here with claims that I’d free the island. But I’d expected to have an entire lost civilization advising me.

“We need information more than anything,” I said. “Tomorrow, I’ll lead an expedition to the lagoon. It’s our best chance of finding Paono.”

“And if he’s not there?” Tkira asked.

“Why don’t we answer that question after some sleep,” I said.

Around the circle, my friends nodded. None of us were at our best. And we needed to be if we were going to win here.

“So, who goes with you to the lagoon?” Raav said. I could hear the tension in his voice. He wanted to come, but he didn’t want to undermine my authority with the group, especially since we were the youngest members.

“I’d like your help in searching for landmarks, Raav,” I said. “Daonok, you’ll help us move stealthily. I’d like Jet’s sword.”

Thinking I was finished, Tkira screwed her face up in insult.

I barely stifled my grin. “The captains should stay with the ships. But Tkira, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like your eyes and opinions.”

Raav’s hand was on my back where the first mate of Zyri’s Promise couldn’t see it. As Tkira struggled to rearrange her expression to something resembling gratitude, Raav squeezed my side, tickling it. Sometimes it was a little too easy to rile Tkira. I shouldn’t take advantage of it.

“Everyone good with that? Caffari? Vidyul? Are you all right with staying aboard?”

“If you’re asking whether I’d rather go wandering around on an erupting volcano controlled by a half-mad tyrant who can melt stone,” Caffari said, her mouth twisted in a wry smile, “I’m okay staying with my ship.”

“After… whatever that was in Ashkalan, I’m happy with a deck beneath my feet and sails at the ready,” Captain Altak added.

“Tomorrow, then?” Daonok asked.

“See you then,” I said.

After a long hug, Raav and I parted ways in front of the door to my cabin. I watched him stroll down the hall and enter his room before I slipped into mine.

Like every ship—except Zyri’s Promise with her wood impervious to rot and fire and the softening of age—the air in the Midnight’s hold smelled musty and damp. But I was used to it by now, and the embrace of solid wood let me forget about the smoldering volcano above us.

I wasn’t quite ready for sleep, so I grabbed a rucksack from a hook on the wall and began packing supplies for tomorrow’s journey into the dark. After stuffing in the oiled leather jacket Caffari had given me, I opened my sea trunk and stared at its contents.

Last time I ran off into the wilderness, all I had was Mieshk’s discarded cloak, three swallows of water and a hunk of hard bread, I commented to Tyrak. This is a luxury.

I’m glad one of us can take the optimistic view, he returned.

As I searched for a woolen vest or overshirt to bring for warmth, a light tapping came at my door.

“Come in,” I said, only to jerk in surprise at the sight of Daonok’s face when the door swung open.

I could tell he was nervous by the way he ran his thumbs over the outer knuckles of his fingers. I stopped what I was doing to give him my attention.

He swallowed. “Let me start with this. No one doubts your bravery, Lilik.”

“And?”

“Actually, it’s more of a ‘but.’ No one doubts your bravery, but I was there when your Da begged you to come home safe. Everyone else on this voyage is willing to let you risk yourself. Even if they don’t show it, they’re terrified of Mieshk and the darkness and the volcano. It’s easy to let someone else take the risk. But I was a da once—had a little girl—and I know what it’s like to lose a child. So I couldn’t let you just go out there tomorrow without asking you to think hard about whether it needs to be you taking the risk.”

Stunned, I set the rucksack down and met his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I can’t even imagine losing a child.”

“I’m not telling you this to earn your sympathy, though I certainly do appreciate it,” he said quietly. “You might wonder what sort of path leads a man to become a criminal. I didn’t start out as a thief or a smuggler or a pirate, but grief has a way of changing a life’s course. At any rate…” He laid a hand on the door. “…What you do is your choice, but I wanted to remind you of the people waiting for your return. Maybe there will come a time when you must be the one to take the risk. But a trek through the dark to this lagoon? Why not let someone else go?”

I pressed my lips together and stared into my sea trunk, thinking. “I’m not sure what else to say besides I’ll consider your words. Thank you, Daonok.”

After he’d left, I sat on the bunk, hands loose on my knees. Maybe Daonok was right. Maybe I should sit this one out, if not for my family then because I’d be needed against Mieshk later. My magic against hers—I’d known from the beginning that only an ability like mine could counter her talents. But how could I just sit here while others risked themselves?

In any case, I set aside my rucksack for now. Sitting on my bunk, I felt the call of my pillow. I could pack in the morning.

Chapter Seven

LILIK… LILIK…

I rolled over; the voice must have come from my dreams.

Wake up. I don’t have much time.

Drowsily, I rubbed my eyes and blinked.

Lilik…

“Hello?” I mumbled aloud.

Thank the stars. You’re a difficult one to rouse.

I didn’t recognize the voice, a female who sounded middle-aged, or maybe just weary.

“Who is this?” I asked.

A friend.

A friend. In the aether. My mind finally jumped out of the chasm of sleep. I sat bolt upright, the wool blanket pulled tight and scratchy against my neck. Throwing myself wide to the aether, I felt the woman’s presence. A stranger. From the emotions radiating off her, I got the sense that she was earnest yet guarded. Regretful and a keen observer.

I brushed my hair out of my face. Are you one of the Vanished?

Yes, I’m fortunate they still accept me among their ranks. For my sins, they should have banished me long ago. My name is Mavek. I suspect you recognize it.

I gasped despite myself. During Vanished times, Mavek had been the leader of the group of soul priestesses skilled in compulsion. But, like now, the ability to compel souls against their will had been too tempting for some of the initiates. Though Mavek had tried, she hadn’t been able to control her prodigies. A rogue coven of her young initiates had brought about the first cataclysm.

I do, I said, careful to keep judgment from my thought. Where’s Peldin?

Hiding. Afraid. The aether is dangerous now.

But you’re not hiding.

I’m not. I failed before, and if I hid now, I’d fail again. With these words, the regret that emanated from the woman swelled, a steely-gray emotion.

From what Peldin said, you did your best.

Then I needed to do better, she said.

Mavek, where are the others hiding? They need to come out. I will protect them, but I need advice—I can’t fight Mieshk alone.

So many questions. Yet every time we speak, we risk alerting Mieshk to our location. We must hurry.

Hurry where?

I’ve come to take you to Paono. He can provide you answers, but he doesn’t wish to speak through the aether for fear it might draw Mieshk’s attention. Prepare for a trek. Quickly. Best if we move in a group of four or five, big enough for defense but not so large as to gather notice.

Paono! Joy flooded my heart at the thought of seeing him again. Just when our situation had seemed desperate, he’d found a way to get in touch with me.

Leaping from my bunk, I whirled and yanked out clothing and a waterskin, spare socks and a swatch of oiled leather to wrap food in. A knife. If only I’d had one of those on my first trip into Ioene’s wilds. Once again, I grinned at the luxury afforded by having time to prepare. “Okay,” I said aloud. “Give me a minute.”

Just hurry.

At ease in the darkness, Daonok breathed deeply as he paddled our boat toward the shore. The oars splashed with each stroke, sending curls of blue-green phosphorescence swirling behind the rowboat. Hidden around a curve in the coast, toward or beyond Ashkalan, a new lava flow oozed into the sea, hissing as it raised a cloud of steam that glowed red against the sky. Above the billowing mass, the aurora shifted and shimmered.

Behind me, Tkira kept a loose grip on the tiller. In the bow, Jet watched the shoreline, hand on his sword’s hilt. Raav and I sat side-by-side on the bench as our boat cut through a school of glowing jellyfish.

The sight of the translucent orbs reminded me of watching the sea creatures boil over a cookfire in our lagoon. At the memory of chewing the springy flesh, my stomach turned. I’d eat them again if I had to. But I hoped I wouldn’t have to.

When the boat scraped the gravel of the beach, Jet hopped out and seized the rail. As he held the boat steady, the rest of us clambered out, splashing down in the cold water. Together, we dragged the boat up onto the shore.

Tkira yawned as we stretched and tramped toward the tangle of night foliage at the edge of the gravel beach. I’d woken my friends from their first sleeps since before we’d spotted Ioene on the horizon. Tkira had found plenty of reasons to complain about being roused early. But the eagerness in her eyes betrayed her griping.

As we approached the edge of the beach, I searched the snarled brush for signs of Caffari’s lookouts. Their hiding spots were invisible to me, but a swirl of warm air descending from the mountain’s peak picked up the scent of lampblack, the smell of the dark pigment mingling with ash and a slight hint of the sulfurous vapors that I knew too well.

A long, flat boulder near the edge of the beach provided a bench. As I sat, I swung my rucksack around to my lap. I pulled out a waterskin and took a deep swallow. The water was warm and tasted of stale wood—it had come from kegs stored deep in the Midnight’s hold. Not very refreshing.

“Anything to finish before we leave?” I asked.

Both Daonok and Jet, new to the island, cast nervous glances at the fiery summit. Jet clenched his jaw as he shook his head. For Daonok’s part, he narrowed his eyes at me. I needed to try to speak to him alone. His words had affected me, but I was the only channeler among us. No one else could follow Mavek’s instructions.

After a moment of silence, I opened a gap in my mental barrier.

Mavek? I asked.

You’re ready?

We are.

I’ll give you directions as you walk, she said. There’s a faint path leaving from the far end of the beach.

“Follow me,” I said as I lifted my rucksack.

“Hey, Councilor?” Jet asked.

I smirked at his insistence on using a title for me. I slowed my pace so he could draw even with me.

“Something’s been bothering me,” he said. “You say this Mavek’s initiates were responsible for the cataclysm. You sure it’s a good idea to let her guide us?”

I suppressed a cringe as I imagined Mavek’s reaction to his words. She didn’t need more reminders of her part in the end of her civilization.

“If she bears responsibility for the evil acts of her students, then I’m just as guilty for failing to stop Mieshk Ulstat.”

And I’d respond that you bear no fault for Mieshk’s actions, Mavek said. But it’s one thing to hear those sorts of reassurances and quite another to believe them. I am quite familiar with that predicament.

I think we understand each other well, I said.

But as I said, we should talk little lest we alert Mieshk. Perhaps in the days to come we’ll have more opportunities to speak freely.

True to Mavek’s words, a narrow path, scarcely visible between tangles of overgrown foliage, struck up into the jumbled wilds on Ioene’s slopes. Peering, I could make out the ancient slate flagstones that prevented the brush from erasing the path entirely. That explained how Mavek knew the path’s location. Distance and direction in the physical world were quite difficult for the nightstrands to perceive. But with her memories of the island’s past, she could help us navigate.

I started to take the lead, but Jet laid a hand on my arm.

“Please let me,” he said, wrapping a hand around his sword’s hilt. “Just in case.”

I drew breath to object, but thought back to Daonok’s words. Lips pressed together, I nodded. As Jet crashed through the brush that overhung the path, I stepped in behind him. Raav followed me. Lithe and nearly silent in his movement, Daonok roved to either side and ahead. Tkira brought up the rear, grumbling as she hiked.

As we walked, my hand drifted to Tyrak’s hilt. After Mavek’s warning about alerting Mieshk, I was nervous about speaking to him through the aether.

I wanted to ask him his theories about how the nightstrands were hiding. But I’d understand soon enough—Paono would explain everything. My chest warmed in anticipation at the thought of seeing my best friend again.

The Vanished pathway wound higher and higher up the volcano’s flank. Where the slope steepened, steps made of ancient stone blocks cut through cliff bands. In the center of each step, a slight depression had been polished by the soles of long-ago shoes. As we trudged, single-file, I inhaled the perfume of kivi blossoms, the smell of the sea, and the acrid breath of the volcano.

Ahead of me, Jet scanned the darkness, hand on his sword. The nightforged boot knife I’d given him poked up from the holster on his knee-high leather boots. The sight brought a smile to my lips.

After about an hour’s walk, we reached a small clearing.

Best spot for a quick rest, Mavek said.

Rather than speak to her within my thoughts, I nodded, knowing she could perceive the action.

I turned to the others. “A quick break.”

Jet dropped his rucksack and pulled out a loaf of bread, breaking off a portion for each of us. As I chewed my first bite, I sat on a rock at the edge of the cleared area. A stand of foilwood, its pale bark looking like bony fingers in the moonlight, overhung the trail beside me. I grabbed one of the small nuts that had fallen from the branches.

“After I fled the Nocturnai, I made camp beneath some boulders,” I said, smiling sadly. “I was away when the others found my cave. They gobbled up my stash of foilwood nuts. Spent an hour spilling their guts after that. All except Heiklet, who was smart enough not to eat something she didn’t know was safe.”

“Oh, tides, that was awful,” Raav said.

“Heiklet… I truly miss that child,” Tkira added.

Abruptly, I felt a quiet presence prying at my walls. My heart stuttered as I opened a gap, wider than the one I’d left for Mavek.

Lilik…? a young voice said.

My breath left my body in a sigh of wonder. Could it be?

Heiklet?

Lilik! I thought it was you but I couldn’t be sure until—

Stop! Mavek roared in my head. You’ll give them away! Mieshk will kill them!

“Heiklet’s here,” I whispered. “I can hardly believe it.”

Lilik, you have to get away, Heiklet said. Now!

Clap shut, child! Mavek snapped. Unless you want to watch your friends die. Paono is close, Lilik. He knows you’re coming. Gather your things.

Confused, I lifted my rucksack. I swallowed as I turned to the others. “Mavek says Paono is close, but…” My brows drew together. “Something’s wrong. Just moments ago she told us to rest.”

My hand fell to Tyrak’s hilt. Noticing the gesture, Jet stiffened. Grabbing his sword, he bared a hand’s width of steel.

“What’s happening?” Tkira said, even as her hands curled into fists.

Daonok had been pacing back and forth along the trail while we snacked. Now, he drew his dagger and dropped into a crouch.

Your little friend is confused, Mavek said. She had no channeler to guide her into her new existence.

Run! Heiklet screamed.

When the first twig snapped, Jet’s sword sang as he pulled the full length of steel from the sheath. Men roared as they leaped, crashing through foliage near the exit to the clearing. An arrow whizzed past my ear.

“Run!” I yelled. But as I spun to race back down the trail, two more men stood from their hiding places and blocked my path.

“Rot,” I muttered, pulling my weapon free.

Chapter Eight

HOW COULD YOU, Mavek? Rage blackened my thought as I shoved it into the aether.

Before me, one of Mieshk’s followers, an oarsman from the failed Nocturnai, snarled and circled. He was trying to force me to turn my back to one of his fellow ambushers. I held Tyrak in a defensive posture as I quick-stepped toward my group. We were outnumbered, but if we could fight back to back, we could protect each other.

The man struck, and I parried. My blade missed his arm, but I followed my slice with a kick to his gut. Air whooshed from his lungs, smelling of decay and the poisoned scent of a starving body devouring its own muscles. Every one of the ambushers had sunken cheeks and glassy eyes.

My shoulder met Tkira’s, and we closed ranks. Glaring at the closest attackers, I raised my dagger again. In the dark of the island, the blade reflected the blue-green light of the heavens.

When Mavek answered, the sadness in her voice was as deep as an ocean. I fought her, Lilik. But I couldn’t resist her command to seek you out and deceive you. I wasn’t strong enough. None of us are, anymore.

Behind me, Jet grunted as he blocked an attack. The blow forced Jet to step back, pushing our group toward the brush that edged the clearing. The movement brought me within arm’s reach of the two men nearest me.

I deflected the clumsy attack of a scrawny man, a former deckhand from the Evaeni. I remembered him—he’d been wiry before, but the weeks on Ioene had turned him skeletal. My deflection knocked him off balance; I stepped close and elbowed him in the hollow of his throat. The man gagged.

Spotting an opening, the other nearby attacker struck. He aimed a rusty knife at my ribs only to be stopped by Tkira’s fist to his face.

As our nearest ambushers staggered back, I risked a glance at the rest of the clearing. All told, six men and two women circled us. They were tired and emaciated. If their ambush had gone as planned, they might have killed or subdued us before we’d managed to draw weapons. But thanks to Heiklet’s warning, we might win this.

To my right, Daonok growled. “Bunch of rotted novices. I almost feel guilty.”

Leather rustled when he sprang. I heard muffled bumps and the wet sound of flesh parting.

“How do you fare, Daonok?” Tkira called.

“My blade’s a wee bit dirty now,” he responded. “I’ll have to wash the blood off later.”

The first mate cackled. “Anyone else want to try us?”

The scrawny man nearest me shuffled forward but made the mistake of a quick glance his fellow ambushers. At that moment, Tyrak flowed from the dagger and sped my reflexes. Together, we shouldered the man backward. His hands flew up in an attempt to catch his balance, and with a leap, I brought both forearms down on his weapon hand. His knife clattered to the ground.

A heartbeat later, Daonok jumped in front of me and plunged his dagger into the man’s shoulder.

“Wait!” I hissed. I didn’t want anyone to die if we could help it. Most of Mieshk’s followers had started as innocent crew of the Evaeni. No doubt they felt trapped by that choice.

Daonok cast me a glare and then clubbed the man on the temple. The ambusher crumpled, limp.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t objected quickly enough for all of Mieshk’s followers. By the time I spun to take in the rest of the scene, three former deckhands lay bleeding on the ground. Two had vacant eyes and slit throats, and the other wriggled feebly, hands clutching the gaping wound in his abdomen. Blood slicked the ancient paving stones of the clearing, reflecting the glow from the heavens.

“Enough!” The voice was a shrill screech. I grimaced as I searched for the source. “Drop your weapons!”

Nearly a dozen knives and swords hit the ground. With Tyrak still clutched in my grip, I whirled.

It took a moment for me to understand why so much metal had clattered to the flagstones. What in the rotted tides? My friends had all laid down their swords and were now looking at the discarded weapons in bewilderment. Tkira had been fighting barehanded, and she stared at her open fist as if unsure what to do with it.

“I said… Drop your weapon, Lilik.”

The voice was behind me. I spun as Avilet Majkut rose from her hiding spot near the clearing. When the Evaeni had sailed from Istanik, five nightcallers had been aboard. Heiklet, the youngest, had died as a result of Mieshk’s brutality. Katrikki and I had returned home aboard Zyri’s Promise. Avilet and Mieshk had remained on Ioene. To tell the truth, I had nearly forgotten her. During the Nocturnai, she’d lived in Katrikki’s shadow. I’d assumed Mieshk had used Avilet in the same way she did the sailors, treating her as an expendable resource.

I was wrong. Where before, Avilet’s skin had been smooth, the light cocoa color so common in the Islands, cracks now split her cheeks, the gaps an angry, fiery red. The surface of her flesh looked charred and dry. Her hair, once shoulder length and shining, was reduced to scattered tufts. But worst of all, her eyes glowed red.

My mouth was hanging open. I shut it with an audible clap. On the ground, the man with the slash across his belly writhed. No one but me seemed to notice.

Avilet’s lip twitched. “Maybe you didn’t hear me,” she snarled. “Drop. Your. Weapon.”

She stared at Tyrak, expectant.

“I have no idea why you think I’d do that,” I said.

Avilet flinched as if struck. As she crashed through the brush toward the clearing, I grabbed Daonok’s arm and shook. “What are you doing?” I hissed.

It’s the compulsion, Lilik, Mavek said. I always suspected it was possible for a soul priestess to command the living if she gained enough power. I’m sorry to say Mieshk proved me correct.

Beside me, Tkira finally recovered from her shock. Hissing and spitting like an alley cat, she leaped on the nearest ambusher.

“Stop.” Avilet’s command arrowed across the clearing. For a moment, I felt a desire, ever so faint, to obey. But it certainly wasn’t strong enough to change my actions. Tkira, on the other hand, froze.

Avilet stepped into the clearing and strode toward our small group. “You,” she said, tapping one of the ambushers on the shoulder. “Pick up your weapon and kill Nightcaller Boket.”

Without a word, the man, an oarsman judging by the piles of muscle that remained on his arms and shoulders despite weeks on the island, crouched and hefted a blacksmith’s hammer. Roaring, he jumped toward me.

Aided by Tyrak, I easily sidestepped the attack.

Why aren’t her commands working on me? I asked Mavek. And for that matter, why are you telling me all this after you brought us here to die?

The man’s charge took him past me, leaving his back vulnerable for a strike. I raised my blade but hesitated. If Mavek’s words were true, he’d only attacked because of Avilet’s command. Should he die for an impulse he couldn’t control?

Lilik? Tyrak said. That was our chance.

I know. Just wait, I responded.

I’m not sure, Mavek said. I think her compulsion fails on you because you’re a channeler. And strongly aurora-blessed at that.

The big man spun. Regret flashed in his eyes as he raised the hammer and swung again. I ducked, and the iron head of the mallet swooshed over my head. As I rose, I aimed a kick for the side of his knee. Beneath my toes, bones crunched. Something snapped. The joint buckled, and he yelled through gritted teeth as he hopped backward.

“I said, kill her, you incompetent fool!” Avilet screeched.

The man stepped forward, his knee giving and bending at an unnatural angle. But still he kept coming, forced by Avilet’s words.

“The rest of you. Attack her!”

At once, everyone in the clearing moved toward me.

Rot, Lilik! Run! Tyrak yelled. He filled my body with strength, nudged my gaze toward a gap between the advancing attackers. I couldn’t help but lock eyes with Raav. Profound pain darkened his gaze as he stooped to pick up his short sword.

The gap was too small. There were too many of them. I wouldn’t make it. Whirling again, I judged the distance between Avilet and me. Four long strides would bring me to her throat, but Daonok crouched between us.

“Daonok,” I said in a low voice. “I need you to resist. Remember your daughter. Do this for another father who’s waiting for his child to return.”

The struggle was plain on his face. His cheeks twitched as he fought. From behind, a hand fell on my arm. No time left. I shook free, dashed forward. As I darted around Daonok’s crouched form, I tensed, expecting a blow from his dagger. None came, and I shouldered into Avilet.

We tumbled into a tangle of snarebrush, the recurve thorns gouging my hip and arm. Avilet’s flesh was hot, burning everywhere it touched mine. She shrieked. Ignoring the pain, I rolled her over, pressed my elbow into her throat, jammed my knee into her gut. Smoke and steam rose from the points of contact.

“Call them off!” I yelled. Behind me, I heard quick footsteps. Growls. In just moments, blades would slip between my ribs.

But Avilet just grinned, charred lips pulling back from blackened gums. “And return to Mieshk a failure? Never.”

Someone grabbed the back of my tunic and yanked me off her. I struck behind me with an elbow. Hit flesh and heard a grunt. But whoever it was didn’t release their grip.

Yelling, I kicked and slashed with Tyrak. Hit nothing. The needlelike point of an edged weapon pressed against my lower back. I felt the first, sharp pain as the blade entered my flesh.

Sprawled before me, Avilet laughed.

Desperate, I threw my mental walls aside and reached into the aether. Only Heiklet and Mavek answered my call. A duskweaving of three.

Even as I tried to bind our energies, the blade bit deeper, shattering my concentration. The spiritbinding fizzled as I cried out in pain.

No! Mavek called into my thoughts.

An instant later, I felt her vanish from existence. At once, the aurora flared, its power strengthening as Mavek’s life force joined the shimmering lights. A burst of energy rattled the area. Above Avilet, a boulder teetered on its perch atop a rock shelf. With a grating sound I felt in my molars, the boulder rolled, tilted, and smashed down atop Avilet as she writhed in the brush.

The massive stone crushed Avilet’s chest, pinning her so that only her head and shoulders stuck out from beneath her new tombstone. The moment stretched out while her mouth opened then shut. The red glow left her eyes and the cracks in her charred skin. I felt the sensation of her sudden absence as if a bubble had popped. At once, the night air felt cooler. Calmer.

At once, the hand holding my tunic relaxed, and I collapsed to the ground. Behind me, someone coughed.

“Mavek failed in life, and again in death,” I whispered. “But in the end, she sacrificed herself for us. That’s how I’ll choose to remember her.”

A strangled sob came from behind me. Rolling over, I looked up into Raav’s wounded eyes. My blood darkened the tip of his sword.

“Tides, Lilik. I couldn’t stop.”

I blinked.

“I nearly had control twice,” he cried, voice tight. “But the impulse was too strong. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

His fingers uncurled, and the sword hit the ground. Raav collapsed to his knees, staring in horror at his blade. Another cry escaped his throat.

It wasn’t his fault. Heiklet hadn’t spoken since the fight began, and her voice in my head shocked me again. None of them could fight her. I’ve watched.

I started toward Raav before the thought struck me, a cold dagger of apprehension through my chest.

Heiklet? Is it the same with Mieshk? I asked. As a nightcaller, Avilet had wielded just a fraction of Mieshk’s talent. If Avilet could command Raav to kill me, what hold did Mieshk have on her followers? What horrors could she force my small army to commit? I thought of Mieshk’s sentries, rigid on their watchtowers. Her other followers scrambling from place to place as if the alternative was fire.

It’s worse, Lilik. For both the nightstrands and the living. I’m sorry. Like you, I can resist. But the other strands… At least Paono made them safe.

I jerked to a kneeling position. You know where he is?

Not anymore. At first, I was able to talk to him. But now he’s closed.

Closed?

Confusion joined Heiklet’s thought as she responded. I don’t know how to explain, Lilik. I know he’s there, but I can’t reach him.

Before me, tears streaked Raav’s face. I shuffled across the final distance between us on my knees, the wound on my back pulling and burning with each motion. Yet I felt it knitting back together already—as before, it seemed my injuries would heal unnaturally fast. Once close enough, I wrapped my arms around Raav’s torso.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”

“I’ll never forgive myself,” he said.

I cupped his cheeks in my hand. Laying a gentle kiss on his lips, I tried to soothe him with my eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive. It was compulsion. You had no choice.”

He swallowed, grimaced, and closed his eyes. After a moment, he spoke. “I needed to be stronger.”

“Raav… I’m healing already. Look.” I tried to turn to show him, but he was already pulling away.

“Show me later,” he said. “For now… there are people who need to die.”

As Raav grabbed his sword and stood, the embodiment of rage, the ambushers who still lived dropped to their knees and raised their hands.

“Raav, wait!” I called. “They had no more choice than you did.”

Tkira jumped in front of Raav. “Listen to her. She’s right.”

Raav trembled, fully in the grip of his anger. Tkira laid a hand on his arm. After a long, tense moment, Raav’s shoulders relaxed.

Daonok regarded him with a steely expression. “We’ll get revenge. But these are not the ones who deserve the punishment.”

Raav’s voice was flat when he spoke. “I will personally pull Mieshk’s heart from her chest.”

I licked my lips. “Let’s bind them and take them to the ships. We can question them there.”

Face grim, Jet surveyed the clearing. The man Daonok had clubbed on the head was stirring. Three other attackers had fallen.

“Too late for these two,” Jet said, gesturing at the ambushers who’d had their throats slit.

The final wounded man, the sailor with the slashed-open belly, struggled feebly. I pressed my lips together. Even with the best healer in the Kiriilt Islands, a wound like that was fatal.

I shuffled forward and knelt beside him, placing my hand on his forehead. He turned terrified eyes to mine. “You know there’s no healing this, right?” I asked.

A tear leaked from his eye as he nodded. His lips parted, but he lacked the strength to speak.

“Listen to me. You’re going to die, but that’s not the end. You may be scared when you enter the aether. But I’ll be here, a voice in your thoughts. Stay close to me, and I’ll keep you safe from Mieshk.”

He blinked as he nodded, just a tiny twitch of his head.

“It hurts,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m ready. Make the pain stop. Please.”

I swallowed. Tyrak’s blade whispered against the leather sheath as I pulled him free. The man’s eyes had gone distant with the pain, and he thrashed weakly before me. Clenching my jaw, I laid Tyrak against his throat and screwed my eyes shut.

A hand landed on my shoulder. “I sailed with this man,” Tkira said. “It should be me that does it.”

Ashamed at the relief that flooded me, I scooted back.

Knees cracking when she crouched, Tkira pulled her blade across the man’s throat. “Proud to have shared the sea with you,” she said as his blood spurted. Within moments, he relaxed, his pain finally gone.

Immediately, I threw aside my walls. I gasped. The spirits of the three dead men dove toward me, begging and gibbering.

Just fight it! Heiklet called through the aether. Mieshk wants to feed you to the fire. You can resist this!

Through the vastness of the aether, I heard a cruel laugh. A wave of arrogant conceit washed my thoughts. Avilet. Her spirit was still here.

Just look at them cowering around their would-be gutterborn savior, she snarled.

Around me, the new nightstrands shrieked.

Avilet’s trying to force them to Mieshk. It’s tearing them in two, Heiklet yelled.

I could feel it, the sense that their souls were being shredded. Like Nyralit had, Avilet retained her power of compulsion even in death. The pain of the strands’ rending echoed through my spirit, reminding me of the tearing and clawing of the Ulstat nightstrands on Araok Island.

Resist her! I cried. But it was no use. Between Mieshk’s pull and Avilet’s compulsion, they were being torn from me.

Desperate, I fell deeper into the aether, spreading my awareness wide and allowing my perception of the physical to fade.

Lilik, Heiklet gasped. I feel something different. It’s like you Need me.

I nodded, focusing on the sensation of binding the souls to me. More than before, I felt the individual nightstrands stretch and meld with tendrils of my spirit.

No! I refuse! Avilet shrieked. She tore herself from my grasp, and I unfurled, spreading wider to catch her in my net. I snared the edges of her nightstrand, gently tugged it into my duskweaving.

Avilet chose fire, sacrificing herself to its power. My vision doubled as I struggled to perceive the physical as well as the sea of possibility that rippled around me in response to the duskweaving. With a detonation that boomed in my chest, the boulder atop Avilet’s corpse cracked in two. A pillar of flame spouted through the gap, briefly rivaling Ioene’s glow. The wave of heat fell over my face as the tangle of brush surrounding Avilet’s body burst into crackling flame.

As quickly as the fountain of flame had come, it vanished. Avilet’s body was gone save for a few, smoldering shards of bone.

I shook my head. Nothing to be done about it. Instead, I refocused on the spiritbinding. As the scene before me faded, I felt fortune begin a slow revolution around me. Only four strands had joined my weaving. My Need might be strong, but my spell would be weak. It didn’t matter; I’d only hoped to shield the souls from Mieshk’s pull.

There’s a path, Heiklet said. Do you see it?

I did. Amongst the slow march of possible futures, a single passage beckoned me. A solid path through myriad uncertainties. Nodding, I chose to follow my Need.

My awareness returned to my body. I glanced around. Nothing noticeable had changed. I still crouched near the body of the sailor who’d died by Tkira’s final act of mercy. My friends clustered nearby, staring at the site of Avilet’s final choice. Heat from the smoldering brush washed gently over us.

Raav stepped up behind me, his hand hovering near my shoulder as if he were afraid to touch me. Reaching up, I grabbed his hand and squeezed. But I still didn’t understand what spell my duskweaving had worked. I extended a thread of perception into the aether and felt the souls of the dead men lingering near. My binding still held them close; I could sense the structure of the weave. Was the spiritbinding unfinished?

“I knew these men,” Tkira said finally. “Knew their families. I’d like to be able to tell their loved ones that they were buried in proper ceremonies.”

Jet cleared his throat, still glancing sidelong at the cracked boulder. “We’ll bring the bodies and captives back to the ships.”

Daonok had pulled a length of silken cord from his rucksack and was busy binding wrists. “I assume we’ll want them locked in the brig,” he said.

Finally, I stood. Breathing deep of the night air, I felt a faint change in the tingle coming from my scars. At first, I thought it was the continued effects of maintaining the duskweaving. The force surrounding me tugged ever so gently at my scars, itching rather than hurting as it did when I bound thousands of strands. But as I took a step toward the edge of the clearing, the sensation strengthened.

Heiklet? Do you sense it?

It’s your Need, Lilik. You must follow.

Follow. As in go where the force urged? I took another tentative step forward, and the pressure against my scars seemed to tremble in confirmation.

Tyrak? I asked. Advice?

He threaded confidence into my thoughts. You must trust it. We have few advantages here, and this may be your only chance.

I turned to Daonok. “Yes. Put them in the brig, but treat them kindly. And have them help you carry the bodies back. We’ll decide what to do with our captives when I return.”

“Wait,” Raav said. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure. But I know I must continue on.”

“Not alone, you shouldn’t,” Daonok said with a glare.

I ran my gaze over my friends’ faces. Given Mieshk’s ability to turn them against me, I would be safest alone.

Stepping over to Raav, I slid my hand into his. He was hurting, drowning in guilt. I hated to abandon him, but the longer I stood here, the more urgent the pull of my duskweaving felt.

“I have to go. I’ll be safe. I promise.”

Raav’s gaze fell away from me. The sadness on his face broke my heart.

“But—” Daonok began.

I cut him off with a sharp look. “My decision stands. See you in a few hours.”

Chapter Nine

I TREKKED THROUGH the jumbled interior of the island, stumbling across scree slopes and shoving through thorn bushes. At every point where the ancient path intersected another, I stopped and closed my eyes. As if urged by thousands of gentle fingers, I felt my Need choosing the turns. The route wound deeper inland and higher up Ioene’s slopes. After maybe two or three hours, I realized I’d never make it back to the ships by moonset. Imagining Daonok’s disapproving glare and Raav’s anxious pacing, I forced my legs to march faster.

The wound on my back ached at first, but it soon stopped. Occasionally, I arched my back and craned my neck to examine it. Like the cuts and scrapes I’d received on my first trip to Ioene, the gash had closed already, leaving a shimmering scar.

Aurora-blessed. Is that what Mavek had called it?

Can you hear me? I asked into the aether, directing my thought at the strands I’d woven to my spirit.

What’s happened to us? one asked. Though I had no image of him, just a voice and the bewildered emotion that accompanied it, I got the strong sense I knew who spoke. I had a vague recollection of the man from our voyage on the Nocturnai. Small and quick, he had often been the crewman sent aloft to contend with snarled rigging.

I tried to express this faint sense of familiarity as I sent my next thought. You were killed after ambushing us.

I remember, he said. We didn’t want… We couldn’t help what we did.

I know. It was Avilet. And I’m sorry for what happened to you. You’re in the aether now, and I’ve bound your energy to mine.

I’m following because you Need me. I feel it.

A long-dead tongue of lava had flowed over the trail ahead, leaving twisted stone that reminded me of the corded muscles in a sailor’s arms. When I reached the edge, I held my hand close to make sure the flow had cooled. The rock felt like rope beneath my hand, knotted and smoothed by the time. As I paused, my Need tugged more insistently.

“Straight over it is,” I muttered. My stomach was rumbling, but the urging of my Need was stronger than my appetite.

You almost went to Mieshk before I bound you, right? I asked.

I remember you, Nightcaller Boket. You’re young, and may not have felt the sorts of temptations that tear at a man. But that’s how it felt. It hurt to try to remain with you.

When I release the duskweaving, the temptation will likely return. You have to be strong.

He didn’t respond at first, and when he did, uncertainty colored his thoughts. If I’d been strong, I never would have followed that Ulstat. The things she did to us… Revulsion followed his thought.

I grimaced, glad that he didn’t seem eager to share the details. After scrambling across the frozen lava flow, I descended to the trail again. The path was wider here, and the flagstones more closely set. Finally, after a last turn, the path dead ended at a dark opening in the side of a cliff.

As I drew near, the urging of my Need abruptly quit. I nearly stumbled in its sudden absence.

I eyed the yawning cavern warily. Too bad I hadn’t bothered to bring a torch. As I edged closer, wailing filled my thoughts.

Mieshk has them again! Heiklet cried.

I staggered, reaching desperately for the duskweaving. I hadn’t realized it had dissipated when my Need had been abruptly fulfilled. Feeling nothing, I threw my walls completely aside and grasped for the souls, but the nightstrands felt like eels, oily and slipping away. I couldn’t get a solid grip on them.

Help! one yelled. I can’t resist her!

I leaped again, a desperate grab, but caught nothing. The strands were gone. Choose calm! I yelled through the aether. Go to the aurora!

I can’t—I’m sorry! came a distant cry, while another of the strands’ screams ended in inarticulate garble.

But one of them heeded me. A wave of tranquility washed me as a single soul chose dissolution into the aurora over Mieshk’s command. But the other two were gone, in thrall to Mieshk once again. Shoulders hunched, I waited for the growl of the volcano when Mieshk sacrificed the souls to strengthen its fire. But nothing came.

Heiklet? I asked.

Sometimes she forges them to her body to grow her power. Sometimes she feeds them to the fire. And sometimes, she holds them captive. I don’t know why, only that she took some to Ashkalan.

Ashkalan? Did that mean whatever had happened to the city had been her doing? If so, it was just another reason to stop her. Of course, I had no idea how we’d accomplish that when a single command could turn any of our fighters into her slaves…

Maybe the answer lay in this cave. With a swallow, I started forward. But before I set foot in the high-ceilinged tunnel, the passage exploded in light, thousands of blue-green motes shimmering in the air. Stunned, I took a step back, nearly falling onto my butt.

“Tides,” I whispered.

Not far from the opening, the passage turned. I couldn’t see beyond the bend.

“Hello?” I called, too softly to actually be heard.

The constant, low rumble of the volcano was my only answer. I took a tiny step toward the tunnel only to stop short when the dancing lights swirled, stealing my breath. Striding through the sea of sparkles as if strolling on a festival evening, Paono emerged from the tunnel. A squeak escaped my throat.

If the lights were stunning, Paono was breathtaking. Haloed in a coating of the same, shimmering motes, his skin glowed like the tail of a comet. My friend was lit from within as if all the starlight in the heavens had collected inside his body. My pathetic glowing scars were nothing in comparison.

I didn’t know what to expect when his eyes met mine. He looked like a creature out of some foreign myth. But when he saw me and smiled his crooked smile, my knees buckled. I ran to him and threw my arms around him, my movement sending the lights swirling.

“Lilik…” he whispered, his arm so tight around me I could scarcely breathe. A tear wet the crown of my head. “I was afraid you’d never come.”

As if to reassure myself he was really there, I patted his arms and shoulders. “What is all this?” I said, gesturing at the floating blue sparks.

At once, his lip started to tremble. He swallowed. “Can we go inside?” His gaze flicked to the path behind me as if he were nervous I might have brought a companion.

I laid a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

He looked at his feet as if ashamed. “I’ve been alone so long. It’s…”

“I understand,” I said, squeezing his arm as he turned.

I gaped as we walked down the glowing corridor. The lights followed Paono, swirling in his wake. After rounding the bend, the passage opened into a large room that had been hollowed from the stone. About as long as a small ship and not quite as wide, the room’s walls were covered in carvings. The scenes depicted everyday life, and hints of pigment showed that it had once been painted.

I can’t believe it, Tyrak said. The Temple of the Seasons. My family used to come here at newdawn and autumntide.

Paono turned left and ducked through another door, leading me into a smaller chamber. The constellation of lights followed behind. Inside this new room, a small collection of items had been piled in the corner. A waterskin. A handful of tubers. A cloak and an extra pair of trousers.

“How long have you been here?” I asked, noticing for the first time how thin he looked.

Paono shrugged. “I’ve lost track of time. At first, all I did was run. And then…” He paused, brows drawing together. “I don’t know, Lilik.”

“Are you hungry?” I asked, dropping my rucksack to the floor. I yanked the tab that closed the drawstring and rummaged through the contents for the packet of dried fruit and the small loaf of bread I’d brought.

Paono swallowed and blinked before taking the food. For a moment, he looked at the contents of his hands as if uncertain what to do. Licking his lips, he finally sat down near his meager belongings and popped a dried apricot into his mouth. He chewed slowly then swigged from his waterskin.

I ran my front teeth over my lower lip as I watched him, my chest aching. It must’ve been so difficult to be alone here for so long.

After Paono had swallowed a few bites of bread, I sat next to him. My mind filled with memories of our shared childhood, sitting like this in some hidden alcove of the gutter slums. I felt the heat of his body. But more, I felt his heart calling to mine. I’d missed my best friend.

“So what’s with the lights?” When I passed my hand through the glowing cloud, the sparkles eddied into little swirls.

Paono set his hands on his thighs, palms upturned. “It’s been difficult here, Lily Pad.”

I smiled at his use of the nickname he’d given me when we were young. At least the boy I’d known was still in there somewhere.

“Do you want to tell me?”

Paono turned to face me. He hesitated as if wondering whether to ask permission before he snatched my hand. “It would be easier if you let me show you.”

I sat cross-legged, facing Paono in the center of the main temple. The stone tiles beneath me were neither hot nor cold. Mostly, I felt the tingle of Ioene’s energy pressing into me through the floor.

All around, the carvings seemed to watch us, history judging our current actions. Paono’s motes of light drifted on the air currents and cast wavering patterns across the walls.

“For the first few days after you left,” Paono said. “I was so busy staying ahead of Mieshk that I scarcely slept. I just ran and ran some more. I was so tired. But I got better at my life-channeling, and eventually I was able to sense Mieshk without focusing so much on her spark. It gave me a chance to rest, knowing that I’d wake if she got near.”

“Sparks,” I said. “That’s how the nightstrands on Araok Island refer to the lights of the living.”

His eyes widened. “There are nightstrands in the Kiriilt Islands?”

The expression on his face was so much like the young boy who’d been eager to hear the events of my day spent selling eggs that a rush of nostalgia flooded me. I wanted to grab his hands and run off to fountain square to throw rocks into the plumbing. Instead, I just nodded.

“So much has happened. I wish there was time to tell you everything. Later?”

The wash of sadness that fell over his face made me draw back. “Paono? Are you okay?”

He blinked and swallowed. “It’s just been so hard.”

I touched his knee. “I’m here now. You’re not by yourself anymore.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Lily Pad. But yeah, the sparks. I don’t really see anything when I think of another person. It’s more like I sense their light. It feels like a spark, so that’s what I started calling them.”

I nodded. “So once you got some sleep, what happened?”

“I started moving around more carefully. I stopped crossing gravel where I’d leave footprints and I avoided breaking through stands of brush. She’d been tracking me by sending her followers out in search of signs of my passage. Once I finally lost her trackers, I started searching for somewhere to hide. That’s how I found this place.”

I looked up at the arched ceiling and imagined stumbling into the chamber. It must’ve been such a relief.

Paono planted his hands on the floor and leaned back. “It’s far enough from Mieshk’s encampment that they weren’t likely to discover it while foraging. And if I had to, I could escape through the back entrance.” He gestured toward another of the doors that opened off the main chamber. “With a place to hide, I finally had a chance to start learning from the Vanished. Amongst the entire congregation, there’s only one other life-channeler remaining. In their whole history, only five were identified. Three died far away from Ioene and never found their way back to the aether here. Another joined the aurora when Mieshk’s pull became too much.”

He paused and took another drink from the waterskin he’d brought from the other chamber.

“Her name is Purviiv. I learned a lot from her. Unfortunately, her abilities aren’t as strong as mine. So a lot of what she told me came from their histories.”

I nodded.

Paono’s eyes had grown distant. Something in his expression reminded me of how I felt when I spoke into the aether. Immediately, I dropped my walls. But only silence greeted me. I set my barriers back in place.

“Are you speaking to the strands?” I asked.

His mouth twisted in consternation. “Trying. I attempt now and again. But it's no use.”

“What happened to them, Paono?”

His face hardened, abruptly guarded. After a moment, he mastered his reaction and looked to the side. “I’ll explain as best I can. But I want you to know the rest, first.”

I curled my toes but quickly stopped when Paono’s eyes dropped to my bare feet—I’d slipped out of my shoes. He knew I did that when frustrated, and I owed him my patience.

“Purviiv taught me to share my memories. It’s similar to the method the strands used to help Zyri join with you. But this will probably feel different. I haven’t tried the technique.” He blushed. “I suppose that’s obvious, since I’ve been here by myself. But may I?”

When I nodded, Paono reached forward and touched my hand. A look of intense concentration fell over his face. He screwed his eyes shut, and a strange sensation scratched against my mental barriers.

“Is that you?”

He nodded, but didn’t speak, only cocked his head. His brow furrowed.

Carefully, I opened a gap in my barrier. And abruptly, I stood outside on Ioene’s slopes. The dark sea spread endlessly before me, broken only by a tiny speck of glimmering color near the horizon—the sail on Zyri’s Promise, I realized. I gasped, but my lungs took in no air. Instead, my breathing followed Paono’s cadence. The mist entering my nose was the air he’d breathed weeks ago. My foot came down on the trail, heavier than my normal tread. After a few paces, my head swiveled as Paono turned to look at the volcano smoldering behind him.

“You’re showing me what happened after we sailed away,” I said. My voice was distant and muffled.

From the same faraway place, I heard his response. “Yes. But please be quiet. I’m trying to concentrate.”

The scene switched. Suddenly, I was scrambling through fresh pumice that clicked and clattered as my feet plunged ankle-deep into the airy stone. Behind me, breath rasped through men’s throats. My arm—no, not my arm—Paono’s arm ached. He’d fallen on it earlier, cracked his elbow against a sharp lava ridge.

Mieshk’s hunters were gaining. Paono opened his inner sense in an attempt to feel their sparks. But he’d worked so hard to secure a bond with Mieshk. Attempting to expand only stretched that thread to breaking. Instead, he looked over his shoulder and saw their eyes glinting in the dark. Above, cinders sprayed from the mountaintop.

“Sorry,” Paono whispered in that faraway voice. “It’s hard to focus on the right thing.”

Buried beneath Paono’s visions, my own thoughts and memories slid across my awareness. I wasn’t quite able to focus on them. Instead, I was awash in Paono’s experience. Immersed.

The scene vanished. Another flash, and Paono crouched on a flat pad of ground. Nearby, stone walls rose, the ruins of a building silhouetted against the dark sea. I recognized the spot, an ancient cloister. We’d ambushed Mieshk there and destroyed the figurine that had given her so much power so quickly.

But I didn’t recognize the smell in Paono’s nostrils. It was fetid. Cloying. He looked down at the decaying corpse at his feet. Regret filled his thoughts.

I was confused. In the fight at the cloister, no one had died. Mieshk must have punished one of the men, taken out her anger by having him killed. And poor Paono, even if it hadn’t been his hand at the blade, felt responsible.

Pinching his nose in a fold of his tunic, Paono crouched and pulled at the cloak that covered the body. The man had fallen facedown, and the cloak came away with little effort, releasing a fresh gust of stench. Paono gagged and fought the urge to retch.

The body’s head was turned to the side, gray flesh and dead eyes exposed to the wan light from the heavens. Paono grimaced and looked away.

“I washed the cloak with juices from the roots of the kivi plants,” he said in the faraway chamber where our bodies still sat. “Peldin gave me the suggestion. It got rid of the smell… Mostly.”

With a flash, Paono was inside this temple. I had the sense that days had passed. He was resting when the aether erupted in panic. The nightstrands were shrieking.

The aether will crack! someone yelled.

Paono clapped his hands over his head. The noise in his thoughts was deafening.

Peldin! He yelled into the aether. What’s happening!

Paono. Up. Purviiv will guide you. It’s the only way.

Paono staggered under the roar. His head felt as if it would burst.

Quiet! Peldin yelled. Slowly, the din quieted.

We don’t know what Mieshk’s doing, Purviiv said in Paono’s thoughts. We only know she must be stopped.

Okay, but what do you want from me? Paono asked.

You have to try the dawnweaving. We can’t think of anything else.

Back in our real bodies, Paono whispered, “It’s an ability of a life-channeler. You join your spirit with other living beings to draw from their strength.”

“I understand the gist,” I said, forcing my words through the barrier that held my thoughts at bay.

In Paono’s memories, his fists pressed into his eye sockets. Here? he asked. I don’t even know how to do this dawnweaving.

Not here, she said. Right now you need to get to Ashkalan. I’ll explain when you arrive.

Paono hurt, way down deep in his bones. Despite the last few days of recovery, he was still exhausted. He’d run so much. For so long. Sighing, he stood and looked about the chamber. It had been his first real sanctuary since leaving Istanik. On the Evaeni and in the Nocturnai’s village, he’d been forced to share his space with Raav. He closed his eyes, ashamed at how he’d acted toward the trader. He’d been jealous. And now, Raav and I had sailed home together. Maybe we’d return. He hoped we’d return. But maybe he’d never see me again. He regretted the time he’d wasted in jealousy.

The air outside the temple was cool but not cold. Still, Paono shivered, hugging his arms to his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck stood.

He shook the dust and wrinkles from the dead man’s cloak—he’d been using it as a pillow—and laid it over his shoulders. But the extra layer didn’t cut the chill. Finally, Paono realized why he felt so cold. The island had become darker. A black fog veiled Ioene’s fire and the aurora above it.

Stumbling forward, he headed downhill. The temple perched around a quarter hour’s walk above the shore. It was hard to see the trail ahead. As he descended, he tripped over unseen rocks and crashed through brush that clawed at his already-tattered clothing.

I don’t know if I can make it, he said into the aether.

You must, Peldin said. The world needs you.

Paono picked up one of the rotted stones that he kept stubbing his toes against. He hurled it down the mountainside, yelling in frustration. He’d never really wanted to come here. He had been happy at home in Istanik, working humble jobs to pay the defense tax and put food on the table. Of everyone on the Nocturnai, he was probably the least suited to this task. So why should he have to defend Ioene from Mieshk Ulstat? Why must he go to Ashkalan and deal with this new problem. Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, he stomped toward the vast, rippling sea. In the new darkness that had fallen, the water mirrored the sky. Black and fathomless. The stars were gone, and no jellyfish lit the waters. All was black.

With a crack, his shin hit a boulder that had fallen onto the trail. Paono backed up a step and kicked the rotted thing, earning more pain in his toes. He yelled again through clenched teeth then stopped. Breathed. No, he hadn’t asked for this. But no one else was here to fight against Mieshk’s corruption. So it had to be him.

He ran his hands through his hair. He’d do whatever the strands wanted at Ashkalan, and then he’d get some more sleep. Sleep would make things better.

Once he’d staggered onto the beach, the going got easier. Shuffling forward, legs leaden, he trudged north along the shore toward Ashkalan.

Paono walked in a daze, his thoughts circling between memories of home and worries about me and Nan and even Katrikki. He tried to distract himself from the cramps in his legs by humming. But the croak that came from his throat was so pathetic, he quickly abandoned that idea.

As he neared the cliffs that protected Ashkalan, a stretch of coast more than five hundred paces long where sheer rock walls plunged directly into the sea, he heard a man’s shout followed by the clatter of rockfall. More shouts followed from somewhere higher up the mountain’s slopes. He froze, abruptly alert, and scanned the surrounding beach for some sort of weapon.

Get into the city, Paono. You must, Peldin said.

“Why?” Paono said aloud. “I’m done following your vague commands. Either you tell me what’s happening, or I’m going to lie down right here and get some sleep.”

Silence followed. Finally, Peldin spoke again. She’s using the strands for something we don’t understand. But we feel it tearing the aether apart. Something’s coming. You must stop her.

But I can’t fight her. You know that.

That’s why you need to attempt the dawnweaving, Purviiv said. We just have to hope it will work.

Paono’s memories flashed to the brief conversation he’d had with the Vanished life-channeler about this strange ability. He understood what he was supposed to do—sort of, anyway—but not the goal. Purviiv’s explanation had been vague. Almost evasive.

“Fantastic,” Paono whispered under his breath.

After that, Paono’s memory skipped forward. The sudden change dizzied me before I fell back into reliving his experience. He crept toward the narrow hallway at the entrance to Ashkalan. The darkness here was even deeper. Paono crawled through ink toward the sounds of men and women speaking in hushed voices.

Closer still, Paono found a sharp-edged rock and clutched it tightly in his grip. A pathetic weapon against Mieshk and her dozens of followers, but he didn’t want to enter that corridor empty-handed.

As he crept through the dark crevice that opened into Ashkalan, Paono’s heart thudded in his chest. Upon reaching the opening, he stared in confusion. On the terrace before him, half a dozen of Mieshk’s followers were filling in sketched lines with some sort of dark pigment, creating symbols. They used paintbrushes made from bundled twigs, and the paint smelled of mud and ash. Paono didn’t know how to read, but he recognized Kiriilti glyphs. These were not the same symbols.

As if that weren’t strange enough, at the far end of the terrace, Mieshk blazed in the night. Her skin glowed bright enough to vie with Ioene. Worse, flame shot from her hands. As she waved her arms in the air, the fire burned lines into the walls, creating the outlines of the symbols. When he looked at the runes, dread crept into his heart. I recognized that feeling.

“Insane wretch,” Paono muttered. He shrank back into the corridor as Mieshk turned. Her followers had finished inking in one of the runes. With the mad grin, she stalked along the terrace and stopped before the finished symbol. Holding her arms wide, she closed her eyes. Paono heard distant screams as she laid hands on the rune. With a jerk, he realized she was nightforging the symbol, imprisoning souls within its pigment.

Paono, Purviiv said. Listen closely. Reach for their sparks. It’s our only chance.

Swallowing, Paono shoved through his exhaustion and fear, surfacing to follow Purviiv’s instructions. He released his bond with Mieshk and instead stretched his awareness, searching for the life-lights of Mieshk’s followers.

As his inner sense unfolded, reaching farther and farther to hold the sparks working in Ashkalan as well as the life-lights of the guards back at Mieshk’s encampment, he sensed his own spark glowing brighter.

“Now what?” he whispered.

And in response to his words, Mieshk turned toward him. A bloodcurdling shriek escaped her mouth. “Kill him!”

Give yourself to the weave! Purviiv yelled in his thoughts. It’s your only hope.

As Paono fell into the grasp of the sparks, the vision disappeared. His memories evaporated from my mind.

The temple chamber snapped back into place, walls echoing my shocked gasp. Stunned, I planted a hand at my side. Tingles from my scars spread up my arm all the way to my heart. I blinked. Why had he stopped showing me?

“So that’s a dawnweaving,” he explained. “I found their life-lights through the aether and pulled our strength together.”

“Yeah, but what did you—” I cut myself off when I saw the expression of deep regret on his face. “Paono, what’s wrong?”

He took a deep breath. “I know it was necessary, but whatever I did, I hurt them. When I drew our power together, Mieshk’s followers screamed. They sounded like I was flaying them alive.”

I blinked, confused. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would it hurt them?”

“Do you think I know?” he snapped, eyes throwing sparks.

I swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand.” A flicker of an idea had started to form. When I expanded my spirit beyond my physical boundaries during a duskweaving, my scars burned. Maybe, when he pulled energy from other living people, a similar thing happened.

Paono’s anger vanished as quickly as it had come. “I know you are, Lilik. It’s just hard to talk about.”

“Listen, I have a similar ability. Duskweaving. It uses the spirits of the dead. You won't frighten me by showing me what happened.”

He shook his head. “Bad enough that I remember hurting them. Worse if I have to let you see it too. After Ashkalan, I was so ashamed. I shut my walls. Tell Heiklet I'm sorry I left her alone like that.”

I leaned forward to put my face into his line of sight. “Paono, it’s okay. Clearly, the alternative was worse. Whatever Mieshk was doing to Ashkalan… I went there. You can still feel it.”

He shrugged, gaze unfocused. “Maybe. But here’s the real problem. When I took strength from the sparks, I enjoyed it. Not hurting them, but the way their energy flowed to me. Like I’d stolen something from them and held it within myself. And it felt so good.”

Tyrak? Do you know anything about this?

Nothing. I’m sorry, Lilik.

Paono’s eyes met mine. “It makes me no better than Mieshk. You see?”

I shook my head. Paono could never be like Mieshk. In fact, he was as far from her as anyone could be. But that was the problem. He was so hard on himself. Nothing I could say would convince him to ease up.

“So what did your dawnweaving accomplish?” I asked, hoping to distract him by moving past the subject.

Paono swallowed. “At first, Mieshk froze. Her followers too. They were like statues. I thought that would be enough. I just wanted them to stop what they were doing. But I couldn’t freeze her mind. She started to pull the nightstrands away from me. Just like they did with you, they’d been using me for sanctuary from her. And by coming to Ashkalan, I’d brought the souls to her.”

His face tightened as he closed his eyes. Around him, the glowing sparks swirled as if responding to his inner turmoil.

“So you hid them somehow.”

He nodded. “I fought against her to keep hold of them. Magic against magic. To do it, I drew even more life from her followers. They were screaming from the pain of it. Begging me to stop—Lilik, I drew too much. There was a weaver who’d come to make nightcloth for the Nocturnai. Mieshk hadn’t fed him enough, and when I stole from his spark, it winked out.”

He cast his eyes to the floor, hands curled into fists. Muscles in his neck stood out like metal bands. His jaw was trembling.

I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Paono, it wasn’t you. It was your Need. I don’t know much about these weavings, but I can tell you that for sure.”

He swallowed, not meeting my eyes. “Here’s the thing, Lilik. I can excuse myself for hurting someone, maybe even for killing someone. But I can’t forgive myself for enjoying the feeling of sapping their life force. So please, stop trying to argue me out of my guilt.”

Finally, he met my eyes. He looked so different with silver light that shone from his body. Deep inside his gaze lived the boy who’d laughed with me while we chased crabs across the beach. But he was buried beneath so many layers of hurt and regret that I wondered if that smiling child could ever dig free.

I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Will you tell me what happened to the nightstrands? I can’t feel them.”

After a few breaths, the lights that surrounded him dancing in rhythm with his inhalations, he swallowed. “I had to shield them from Mieshk. I thought to myself that only the aurora could balance her fire, so with the dawnweaving, I grabbed a shard of the aurora and took it inside myself. And after, I invited the strands in.”

“You have all their thoughts in your head? How can you… I never could have handled it.” My stomach took a slide at the recollection of my joining with Zyri. I’d nearly lost myself at first, drowned in her spirit.

He shook his head. “They were in my thoughts for a second. Maybe two. Long enough that I had to fight the urge to destroy myself. And then somehow, I pulled one more burst of life from my dawnweaving and locked the strands away. They’re in here…” He pointed at his head. “…in a shell harder than steel.”

“All of them?” I asked.

He nodded. “Except for the few strands Mieshk keeps as slaves. And Heiklet of course—she isn’t affected by Mieshk, so she wasn’t using me for sanctuary.”

I waved my hand through the air, setting the glimmers swirling. “What about these?”

“Maybe they’re the remnants of the strands. Or twinkles of aurora. I don’t know. They’ve been around me since the dawnweaving. If I focus, I can pull them inside. But having them around… it’s made me feel less lonely somehow.”

I pressed my fingers to my temples, thinking. Locked away, the strands were safe. That was good, as long as Mieshk didn’t find a way to get into Paono’s mind. If he kept them there until I needed access to my magic, we could prevent her from growing stronger or finishing… whatever she’d been attempting at Ashkalan.

“I understand why you’re upset about the… accident during your dawnweaving. But at least the strands are safe.” It was an empty reassurance, and I regretted it as soon as I spoke. Not because Paono’s action had been worthless, but because I knew how his heart worked. To him, nothing could make up for killing someone and enjoying it.

“They might be safe, but it’s still not okay. It’s no better than a nightforging.”

“Of course it is. Why would you say that?”

Paono stared at the ceiling, the glow from his inner aurora lighting the planes of his face. “Because, Lilik, I have no idea how to free them. I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

At Paono’s words, a dart of fear leaped from Tyrak into my thoughts. Zyri… he whispered.

“But it has to be,” I said. “You didn’t nightforge them. You protected them. If nothing else, another dawnweaving will set them free. Your Need decided this. So it must be the best way to achieve our goals. And when it's the right time, your Need will unlock the shell.”

He looked at me, eyes pleading for understanding. “Here’s the thing. You keep talking about Need. I hear it in your voice—the Need is special to whatever you do with your ability. But every time Purviiv described the dawnweaving, she spoke only of Want. I Wanted to make Mieshk and her followers stop painting those ruins. I Wanted to take the aurora inside me. I Wanted to lock the strands away before Mieshk stole them or I lost my mind in the clamor of their voices.”

I blinked, shocked. Want, not Need. Paono could use his ability to do whatever he wished. If only I’d been gifted with that kind of magic…

I remembered something Peldin had said to me on my first trip to Ioene. Only the noblest and honorable of boys were born with the channeling talent. Most likely, it took even greater selflessness to become a life-channeler. I understood the reason now. When you had the power to hurt or kill with just a thought, when you could steal energy from everyone around you and use it for whatever you wished… Almost anyone would succumb to the temptation to misuse that kind of power.

I could never be afraid of Paono, but his ability terrified me. I was grateful there’d been so few life-channelers among the Vanished. Most likely, the talent surfaced only rarely in their descendants among the Kiriilti.

After a moment, I chewed my fingernail. “There’s something I don’t understand, then. My duskweaving ability is difficult to control. Maybe impossible. But with you, you only have to Want something to make it happen. Couldn’t you just draw a little energy and use it to undo the dawnweaving that locked them away? You wouldn’t have to hurt anyone badly. Isn’t it worth trying?”

Paono dropped his head. “I tried, Lilik. I’m not proud of my attempt because I tried even though I knew the consequences—I’d killed someone the last time I’d used the ability. But I wanted answers. I thought Peldin could give them to me, so I opened wide and tried to gather the sparks. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing at all?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. But I figured out why, at least. The problem is, I can’t make myself Want to hurt anyone. I can think I Want it. But my heart knows differently. Dawnweaving is cruel. So I can’t do it. I simply can’t free them.”

“Not even to stop Mieshk?” I asked, struggling to understand his feelings.

“Not even to stop the cataclysm. I know, Lilik. It’s crazy. But I’ve tried, and I just can’t seem to change what’s deep inside me.”

He stared at his hands. Abruptly, frustration flooded me. What kind of world did we live in when my friend had to be ashamed for being so pure-hearted?

“Come on, Paono,” I said, standing and offering him a hand. “Let’s go back to the ships. You deserve a real bed. We’ll figure this out.”

Chapter Ten

A SINGLE ROWBOAT sat beached on the gravel when Paono and I pushed through the brush and staggered onto the beach. Daonok jerked upright at the crunch of our feet; he’d been sleeping in the bottom of the boat.

“Would have been nice if you’d returned a bit sooner,” he muttered. But the relief on his face belied his harsh tone.

His gaze flicked to Paono. To move more stealthily through the darkness, Paono had calmed his cloud of motes, gathering them into his body. His skin still glowed, but with the cloak’s hood pulled over his hair, at least he didn’t shine like the moon.

“And this is?” Daonok asked.

“My best friend in the world. Paono.”

At the introduction, they nodded at each other.

“Hey… Daonok?” I said. “I really didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know. I forgive you.”

“Mind rowing us to Zyri’s Promise, then?”

“I’m planning on it. Captain Altak promised me a share of his stash of dried figs if I brought you there first.” Hopping out of the boat, he helped us slide it into the water then took up the oars as we clambered in. A few minutes later, Paono and I climbed the swinging rope ladder onto the deck of the Vanished ship.

The captain grinned when he saw Paono, the first smile I’d seen since I’d given him the news of Nyralit’s death. Other sailors gathered, some familiar to me from the Nocturnai, and some new faces, too. Behind me, Paono shifted awkwardly. I reached a hand back to reassure him. After so long alone, the sight of all these strange faces had to be intimidating.

“It warms my heart to see you, Sentinel,” the captain said.

At the sound of his former title, Paono smiled faintly. “Likewise.”

I scanned the crowd for Raav but was disappointed. Glancing across the water, I searched the rail on the Midnight, too. As if noticing my interest, Tkira shouldered her way through the crowd.

“We had to force him into his cabin,” she said softly in my ear. “Caffari slipped a wee bit of evenshade into his drinking water. Poor boy looked ready to tear himself apart over hurting you. Plus he was worried you’d never come back.”

I nodded, jaw clenched. I didn’t like to think of him so agitated, but at least Raav was getting some rest. Speaking of… beside me, Paono swayed on his feet.

“I was hoping you had a comfortable berth for Paono,” I said. “And fresh clothing. Especially the cloak.”

Captain Altak laid a hand on Paono’s shoulder. “For tonight, he’ll take my cabin.”

I expected Paono to protest, but my friend just nodded.

The captain summoned one of his sailors with a quick gesture. “See this young man to my bunk. And wake up the cook. He deserves a hot meal.”

As Paono shuffled off behind the sailor, Captain Altak, Tkira and I shared a glance. Silently, we moved off to an empty section of the deck.

“You heard what happened, right?” I asked Captain Altak. “With just a word, Avilet controlled everyone but me.”

He nodded, face grim. “For the time being, we pulled everyone back to the ships. If Mieshk can turn someone just by speaking, makes no sense to leave people on shore.”

Tkira gestured at a line of men and women along the side of the deck. “We put archers at the rail on both ships. With luck, they’ll be able to put an arrow through her heart before she gets close enough to yell commands.”

“The prisoners?”

“Locked up in the Midnight.”

“Have they been questioned?”

“Only a little,” Tkira said. “Poor sods are half dead from lack of food. As far as we can tell, the only thing that kept them going was the compulsion. They could barely speak or keep their eyes open after Avilet died. So we fed them and gave them blankets and figured we could talk to them after they rested.”

I tapped my foot on the deck planks. “I always thought an attack against Mieshk would be difficult. Now… I really don’t know if we can win this. How do you fight someone with her kind of power?”

Tkira shook her head, face twisted in a scowl. “I don’t know, Lilik.”

An uncomfortable silence fell.

“Well, maybe we’ll learn something from the prisoners,” I said. “As far as preparations and defense, I think pulling back is a good choice for now. But there’s another thing I’d like to do. I’ll need to borrow a handful of people. Quick learners.”

The captain’s brows lowered. “For what?”

“You saw how close to starvation the prisoners are. I’m guessing no one from Mieshk’s camp has any idea how to forage here. And frankly, neither do any of you.”

“We brought food stores,” Captain Altak said. “Enough for a month or two.”

I shook my head. “Not good enough. If the worst happens… If something happens to me or the ships, you need to know how to survive here. I’d like to lead a quick and careful expedition inland to teach them the basics.”

The captain straightened up. “Fair enough. I’ll send a few sailors with quick wits over to the Midnight after moonrise.”

I peered over the rail. Daonok was still waiting in the rowboat at the base of the ladder. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Together, Captain Altak and Tkira nodded.

“Sleep well,” the captain said.

I swallowed. After what I’d learned today, I doubted that would happen.

I woke, groggy, to the darkness of my cabin. I’d managed to fall asleep, but it must’ve been fitful. My covers were a twisted mess around my legs. Groaning, I scooted to a seat.

The sound of rustling clothing made my heart stop. In the corner of my cabin, a shadow shifted.

I slapped my hand to my hip, but quickly remembered I’d taken off my belt. Tyrak was hanging from a hook beside the door. I swallowed and clenched my fists, ready to strike back if necessary.

“I’m so sorry, Lilik.” The voice was just a whisper, but I’d have recognized it anywhere.

“What are you doing here, Raav? Why didn’t you wake me?”

He stood and crossed the small room, wide shoulders blotting out the faint light that leaked in around the door. Planting hands on either side of me, he leaned close as if to kiss me. As I shifted forward, awaiting his lips, he jerked away. He dropped to his knees at the edge of my bed.

“The moon isn’t up yet. I didn’t want to disturb you. But I couldn’t stay away. I had to hear you breathe to prove to myself that you were okay.”

“I am. I’m fine.” I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him up beside me, but his body was rigid and immovable.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He sank down onto his heels. “Don’t you remember? I almost killed you.”

Fighting the urge to sigh, I dragged my hands through my hair. After a moment, I turned and lifted the hem of my shirt, exposing the new scar.

“It’s healed, see?”

“Much deeper, and things would have been different,” he said.

“But that didn’t happen.”

“No, but it could have.” Raav finally took a seat beside me. “There’s something I want to ask you, and I want you to take it seriously.”

“Okay…”

“What if we just sailed away from here? Forget defeating Mieshk. We could stop at the Kiriilt Islands and warn everyone. And then we could keep going. Somewhere safe and far, far away from Ioene.”

After what I’d learned about Mieshk’s powers, his questions tugged at my heart. It would be easier to just leave. We couldn’t win against Mieshk, so why throw our lives at her mercy?

I stared into the darkness as my thoughts circled. Finally, I laid a hand on Raav’s knee. He tensed but didn’t move away.

“I can’t give up now. We might manage to warn a few Kiriilti. But many more will die if we don’t find a way to stop this.”

There were more reasons, but Raav’s mood was too black for me to want to mention them aloud. I didn’t yet understand what Mieshk had been doing at Ashkalan, but I sensed that if she completed it, we’d have more than the cataclysm to worry about.

He nodded, a rustle in the dark. “I thought that would be your answer.”

The darkness in the cabin seemed to press closer, stifling hope.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I said. “It’s like you’re defeated already. But I still believe we’ll find a way to beat her.”

His shoulder moved as he shrugged, rubbing against my arm. “It’s not just Mieshk. Even if we win against her, I’m afraid, Lilik. Every time I close my eyes, I see my sword entering your back. What if that never goes away?”

I squeezed his leg. I wasn’t sure what else I could say to convince him. “Everything heals, even your memories.”

He stood and stepped toward the door. “I hope you’re right.”

Fatigue tugged at me, but I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I needed to do something besides lie in the dark and worry. Sliding the covers off my body, I swung my legs over the edge of my bunk and dragged on a padded wool jacket. I slipped out the door to my cabin and shut it quietly behind me before tiptoeing down the hall, careful not to wake those who were still asleep.

As I descended the ladder into the lower level of the hold, the air got noticeably damper. A single lantern cast a flickering glow over heaps of cargo and patches of damp that oozed in through gaps in the hull. A few storage rooms lined one side of the hold. To convert it into the makeshift brig, one of the small cabins had been barred from the outside.

A single smuggler lounged on a canvas-draped mound of cargo. Around his nest, there were lines on the floor where the wood looked fresher than the surrounding planks. The panels which had been bolted to the floor in those spots, forming hidden compartments where the smugglers could store illicit goods, were now stacked and stowed against the far wall.

“I need to talk to the captives,” I said when the thief glanced at me.

He yawned and nodded. “Suit yourself,” he said, pulling a long knife from his belt. “Yell if they give you trouble.”

“They’re all inside?” I asked.

The thief was busy using the tip of his knife to trim his cuticles. He nodded without looking up. I lifted the bar away from its brackets and squeezed the latch. The door swung open on oiled hinges, exposing the pathetic huddle of captives slouched against the far wall.

Emaciated after weeks on the island and no longer innervated by Avilet’s compulsion, they turned dull eyes to me. I lowered myself to a cross-legged seat in the doorway.

“Have you eaten enough?” I asked. There were five of them, but I suspected I could win against the whole group in a fight.

Nearest me, one of the two women ran her tongue over cracked lips. “More than we’ve had in a while. Not enough to fill our bellies.”

I nodded. “I’ll make sure you get more soon.”

As I ran my eyes over them, the largest of the captives, a big-boned man who’d probably looked like a mountain before his extended deprivation, sat up straighter.

“I’ll just say it. I made a mistake, Nightcaller. There’s no excuse. I believed Mieshk when she blamed you for the eruption. I didn’t object when she mutinied. I even hunted you.”

“Same,” another man added. The others nodded agreement.

“It’s in the past,” I said. They’d clearly suffered enough. I wasn’t going to berate them.

“It’s going to get worse,” the woman who’d spoken first said.

“What is?” I asked.

“Mieshk. You can’t stop her. Might as well sail away and save yourselves. Us too, if you’ll have us.”

I winced at the similarity between her words and Raav’s recent plea. “Not an option. But if you truly regret following Mieshk, you can help me defeat her. Tell me what happened in your encampment. What does she want with Ashkalan?”

At the mention of the city, it felt as if a shadow passed over the group. Eyes turned to the floor as shoulders hunched.

“She didn’t tell us any details,” one of the men said. “She forced us to march across the island. Made us paint her symbols on the walls. But every rune… tides… it felt like evil itself lived inside them.”

I nodded. I’d felt it, too. “Could any of you resist her commands?”

The closer woman swallowed. “She couldn’t do it at first. I’m ashamed to admit it, but at first, I did what she asked because I was scared. She had all the thugs on her side. And what were you besides a little rat hiding out in the dark?”

I shrugged. “But I’m the little rat who got home.”

“True enough,” she said. “Some of us did try to escape after the way Mieshk treated that little girl. The small nightcaller.”

Are you there Heiklet? You don’t have to listen to this.

I am. But I don’t mind, she responded. It won’t change anything.

“And what happened?” I asked.

The woman’s cheek twitched. “She chased us down. Made an example of two of us. It took them three moonrises to die.”

“After that, no one tried to run,” the big man added.

My fingertips dug into my knees. No matter how much I thought I loathed the Ulstats, I was always learning something to make me hate them more.

“Food got scarce,” the woman said. “We started fighting amongst ourselves. Mieshk encouraged it at first. Said it was for the best if we killed off the weaker ones. Meanwhile, she just got stronger. Spent most of her time in the calling trance. We were still trying to make plans to overthrow her, meeting out of earshot and so forth. But then she learned how to command us. Taught that other girl. Avilet. Between that day and the moment when the boulder fell on Avilet, almost nothing I did was of my own free will.”

Planting my hands beside me, I straightened my legs. “Tell me about her commands. I need to understand how to fight her power.”

“It’s useless. You can’t get a single person near her. All she has to do is look at you, and you’re hers. You’ll do whatever she says. You’ll fall on your own sword, cut out your own tongue.”

I nodded. “Compulsion. We saw it with Avilet. And as you might have noticed, she’s dead.”

She shook her head. “Her abilities were nothing in comparison. She had to be near and focus on it. That little thief—Daonok I believe his name was—was able to stop himself from killing you.”

I was glad Raav wasn’t there for the reminder that Daonok had resisted where he couldn’t. “And Mieshk is different?” I asked.

“Like the sea is different from a puddle.”

“Avilet’s ability didn’t work on me. I doubt Mieshk’s will either. I’ll just kill her myself.”

She shrugged. “If you could get to her, maybe.”

“There have to be limits to her power. What happens if you move out of earshot? If you get far enough from her, are you free?”

“It holds as long as she’s within a thousand paces,” another of the captives said, a young man not much older than me. He’d been an apprentice navigator aboard the Evaeni if I remembered correctly. “And there was something else. When your ships first arrived, her concentration broke. For a few minutes, I could decide my actions again. I almost ran, but there wasn’t time.”

“She saw us?” I’d thought we’d been invisible, our ships lost in the waves beyond the shoals. But at least that information helped explain how the ambushers had found us.

“It was her pet,” the woman said. “The one called Mavek—she sensed you. Apparently, the nightstrands are the souls of the dead.”

I nodded. “We know.”

“Mieshk can’t speak to the nightstrands, but she can order them. Command them like she did us. She keeps a few souls as slaves. The others, she feeds to the fire.”

“So this pet… Mavek saw us. If Mieshk can’t speak to the strands, how did she know?”

The woman grimaced and wrapped her arms tight around her knees as if to protect herself. “She forces her pets inside us. They speak through our mouths. Control our bodies.”

Oh, tides. I shivered in disgust, remembering how helpless I’d felt when Tyrak had taken control of my body. I trusted him and cared for him. How much worse would it have felt if Mieshk had forced a strange strand into me?

“How much does she know about our plans? Are her other pets watching us?”

The navigator shook his head. “Mavek saw more than the others. Understood more about the living, I suppose. I was forced to…” He grimaced. “Forced to serve as a vessel for one of her other pets. Mieshk questioned him. He and the other pets could sense you’d returned to Ioene, but that’s all. Anyway, before she sent us to ambush you, she pulled the pet from my mind and sacrificed him to the fire. Said she had a task to finish. Needed her strength more than a collection of worthless souls.”

I chewed my lip. If we were lucky, then, Mieshk had lost her only spy when Mavek had chosen the aurora. If not, Mieshk and her army would have been here by now.

“I’ll have more food sent as soon as a cook is awake. Thank you for the information.”

I climbed to my feet, nodded, and latched the door before dropping the bar in place. Mieshk had a weakness, I’d learned that much. If we could get her followers far enough away from her, we could free them from her commands. But how?

Chapter Eleven

AFTER MOONRISE, I spent a few hours leading two of Captain Altak’s sailors and three smugglers from the Midnight through thickets of brush and open stretches of scree where hardy witchtubers pushed up stalks during the long-day. I explained which plants had edible leaves, where to find foilwood nuts, and how to boil Eikkas tresses to remove the irritating oils from the leaves. The vine-like tresses thickened soups and added flavor to cooked jellyfish. Foragers needed to be extremely careful, though; the roots had a poison that could cause temporary paralysis on contact.

We moved as silently as possible, wary of any patrols sent from Mieshk’s camp. If she discovered where we’d anchored, she’d need only to creep close enough to enslave us one at a time. It was a risk, delving inland, but I believed strongly that we needed to be able to survive here even if our ships were destroyed and my knowledge lost.

When we returned to the anchorage, exiting the trail onto the narrow arc of gravel beach, the moon was high overhead. As soon as our footfalls crunched in the crushed pumice, shadowy figures stood from stands of brush not ten paces away. I hadn’t glimpsed the slightest motion or heard even a rustle of cloth. Good. Before leaving, I’d consulted with Caffari. Mieshk might be able to take control of someone’s actions with just a word. But a crossbow bolt through her throat could silence her threat forever. We’d decided to station a few of Caffari’s stealthiest rogues near the edge of the beach, crossbows ready.

“Identify yourselves,” one of the thieves said.

I pushed back my hood. “Lilik Boket.”

Before heading into the dark, we’d smudged dirt over our cheekbones and the bridges of our noses to soften any highlights that might give us away if we were forced to hide from a patrol. But the thief recognized me immediately. He touched his fingers to his brow in greeting.

As I spoke to the thief, one of Captain Altak’s sailors stepped to the water line. “Lilik,” he said, faint alarm in his voice. I followed his gaze out over the water. Zyri’s Promise and Shards of Midnight were anchored side-by-side, their rails tied in a raft formation so that the crew could move back and forth with ease.

It took me a moment to notice the dark shapes beyond our vessels. Around a hundred paces past Zyri’s Promise, three ships bobbed lightly at anchor.

Trader Ulstat.

“Rot!” I said, pulling Tyrak from his sheath. “What’s going on here?” I whirled on the closest lookout.

She raised her hands, black shadows clad in lambskin gloves. “Take it up with the boss,” she said. “They turned up a couple hours ago waving white sheets. Dropped anchor, and then a single man—Trader Ulstat I’d guess—rowed over. Been aboard our ships since.”

Anger roared into my body, screamed in my ears. Why hadn’t my friends just shot him as he approached? And why had the captains remained at anchor while the other vessels arrived? The Ulstat ships were currently blocking our escape from the bay, hemming us in.

“I have to get to the ships. Quickly.”

With a shrug, the thief picked up a hooded lantern to signal the Midnight but soon stopped and pointed. “Seems they’ve noticed you.”

Indeed, she was right. The Midnight’s dinghy was already being lowered with a single oarsman inside. Arms folded across my chest with Tyrak still clamped in my fist, I paced as the little rowboat bobbed toward our position. When the boat scraped gravel, I dashed forward and jumped in. My foraging students followed quickly.

Despite the oarsman’s efforts—my glare kept him pulling hard—the little boat made agonizingly slow progress toward the Midnight. Once alongside her, I yelled for a ladder. Seconds after it had splashed down in the water beside the dinghy, I scrambled over the Midnight’s rail.

“What in the rotted tide—”

My words died. Ten paces in front of me, Trader Ulstat sneered.

“Hello again,” he said. “Well met, I’m sure.”

As I’d refused to go inside a closed cabin with the Ulstat prime, I stood with the other leaders in a small circle on the forward deck of the Midnight. Instead of looking Trader Ulstat in the eyes, I kept my gaze fixed on the aurora. I imagined it filling me with peace. Otherwise, I was sure to unsheathe my weapon and plunge it into his throat.

“So who is going to explain why this man is aboard our ship?” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps I should answer.”

My gaze shot to Caffari. The bandit leader just shrugged. “I believe we should let him speak. He came under a white flag. Alone. There’s no reason we can’t kill him after he finishes talking.”

“I’ve learned it’s a bad idea to listen to Ulstats,” I said.

“What if we promise it can be you that slits his throat?” Caffari asked.

I gritted my teeth. “Only if Vidyul refuses the right. He has dibs… for Nyralit.”

Captain Altak nodded, but gestured with a sweep of his hand. “The honor is yours.”

Trader Ulstat cleared his throat. “Good to see we agree. Now then, you asked why I’m here. Back on Araok Island, I was repeatedly advised that I’d never defeat my daughter, Mieshk, without you, Lilik. And from what I’ve learned in the last couple hours about her… changes, I believe that’s true. But I’m also convinced you’ll never defeat her without me.”

I snorted. “Right. And exactly what do you have on offer that I can’t gain from people I can trust?”

He showed his palms in a conciliatory gesture. “In order for you to get close enough to damage my daughter, she must be isolated from anyone she could command. I can draw her out to a vulnerable position. She won’t suspect me.”

As the trader spoke, I glanced at Jet. During the fight for Istanik, I’d relied on his advice on strategy and our strengths. At the moment, Jet’s expression indicated he agreed with what the man said. I curled my toes inside my shoes.

“Or maybe, you intend to lure us close and deliver us into her clutches,” I said. “We have no reason to trust you. I never have, and I don’t see why we should start now.”

Trader Ulstat met my eyes with a serious expression. “I understand. And truly, I wouldn’t expect you to trust me. A month ago, I would have delivered you to her if it suited my purposes. I’d even considered joining forces with her despite what I’d learned regarding the progression of her madness. But I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’ve changed your mind. I see. Sorry, but you still haven’t given me a reason to believe you.”

“I heard you rowed into Ashkalan,” he said.

I raised a single eyebrow and shrugged. “What of it?”

“As did I. There are ancient Ulstat family secrets. It’s time I tell them. I know what happened to Ashkalan.”

Chapter Twelve

CAFFARI INSTRUCTED A thief to drag over a few casks and crates so that we could sit comfortably. I refused. I would not get comfortable while Trader Ulstat was aboard the Midnight. Arms crossed over my chest, I pressed my lips firmly together while his gaze traveled the group. The man seemed to enjoy having an audience.

“I’m sure Raav—pardon me, Trader Ovintak—knows this,” he said. “But to inform the rest of you, I am not an Ulstat by birth. I married into the family when I was eighteen. Mieshk’s mother was the prime heir at the time. Her father, the prime trader, paid my House well for the match. And my family was quite glad to be rid of me—none of them had my level of ambition, and so none of them were comfortable in my presence.

“In any case, though the Ulstats bought me, I would have agreed to the union regardless. Because, you see, my House was in quick decline. We’d recently lost trading rights to our ports on Reknarish, but the real problem was our debt. It matters little now—my birth House is no more. The Council revoked their House status nearly twenty years ago. My family left the Kiriilt Islands shortly after. Not that I was in touch with them at that point...”

The man really liked to hear his own voice. I sighed loudly, prompting a smirk from Trader Ulstat.

“It’s relevant. I assure you. I’m telling you this because it’s critical you understand that I am untouched by Ulstat madness.”

“Unlike your daughter,” I said. The sea air was cool against my skin, and after my fitful sleep the previous night and the strain of recent events, I was having a hard time staying warm. To cover my shiver and to illustrate my impatience with the Ulstat prime, I started pacing.

“Yes, unlike Mieshk,” he said. “Her mother, my wife, was afflicted as well. She was an only child, her parents’ sole heir. More distant branches of the Ulstat clan were frothing with excitement at the notion that she might succumb to madness before producing a child to continue the lineage. They were all too eager to take control of the House. Fortunately, we had little trouble conceiving. Mieshk was born within a year of our marriage. Tragically, my wife’s parents were killed just months after the birth. My wife ascended to prime.” At these last words, Trader Ulstat grinned. No doubt he had a hand in hastening the parents’ demise.

“This is a heartwarming story,” Caffari said. “But I’m with Lilik. Get to the point.”

Trader Ulstat stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He sat on a shipping crate stamped with the crest of House Thuvet, a trader family from Orteshk Island. No doubt Caffari and her confederates had liberated the contents of that crate at some point in the past. Over the last weeks, I’d learned not to look too closely at the fittings and cargo containers aboard the Midnight. Not if I wanted to keep my conscience clean.

“On the night of my wedding, my father-in-law invited me into the study. He had concerns for his heir, particularly regarding her early signs of madness. For most who are afflicted, the onset is after their thirtieth year. Not so with Mieshk’s mother. And most certainly not so with Mieshk.

“Think what you will about House Ulstat, but we have little desire to cause chaos. In fact, we Ulstats seek to further the fortunes of all Araokan citizens, not just our kin. Where we differ from other Houses is in our philosophy of managing the gutterborn who depend on us. We—”

I couldn’t handle the condescending look on his face. “Don’t pretend you have anyone’s interests at heart other than your own,” I snapped.

“You see,” he said, his eyes running over the gathered group, “commoners can’t be trusted to make reasoned decisions. Look how quickly she angers. They must be guided firmly, lest their ignorance and emotions drive them to ill-considered actions.”

My blood surged hot through my veins. Gritting my teeth, I stalked closer to the man. When I drew near enough to strike, my hand found Tyrak’s hilt.

As I slid the dagger up and out of the sheath, Raav stepped in front of me. “Lilik. He’s trying to rile you.”

“Actually,” Trader Ulstat said, “I’m just being honest. I have no reason to antagonize anyone here. Especially not given the alliance I seek. But if you’d prefer I leave my philosophies out of the discussion…”

Raav laid hands on my shoulders. “Remember. You can kill him yourself if we don’t like what we hear.”

My rage was simmering high in my chest. Try as I might, I couldn’t force it down.

“Lilik,” Paono said quietly. “I know you. Patience is not your strength. But consider what happens if we kill him. It’s another nightstrand for Mieshk to capture. One who knows where we’re anchored.”

Rot. He was right. As Raav squeezed my shoulders, I blinked and swallowed. “Fine.” I stalked to the edge of the circle and dropped to a seat on a water cask.

Raav whirled on Trader Ulstat. “If you insult her again, I’ll make sure that you hurt. A lot.”

Rolling his eyes, Trader Ulstat nodded. “I’m accustomed to dealing with those who can’t grasp the brilliance of my views. In any case, I’ll forgo my justifications. Now, as I was saying, the Ulstat aim is to increase standing and fortune. My wife was no different. But she had something that many Ulstats lack. She understood the damage her coming madness would do. Rather than arrogantly descending into insanity and dragging the House down with her, she tried to understand her curse. Her search led her to journals penned by her ancestors, and from there to the doomsayers.”

“The cult?” Captain Altak asked. “Bunch of wretches no less insane than your family.”

I nodded, thinking of the wild-eyed cultists who waved burning batons and ranted about the end of the world.

Trader Ulstat’s brows twitched upward. “So you think. But consider this. Until we discovered the truth of the nightstrands, I’d wager that most commoners believed the trader custom of deifying our ancestors to be rooted in arrogance. But then we—Lilik, actually—discovered that the souls of the dead are all around us. We traders believe the presences of our ancestors still bless our lives. The custom probably originated with teachings passed down from the Vanished. But without proper guidance, knowledge often decays into superstition. So, back to the doomsayers. What do they believe?”

“That sea monsters with masses of tentacles will rise from the deep and swallow us,” Daonok muttered.

Trader Ulstat shrugged. “The fringe members, perhaps. Those who aren’t trusted with the real secrets and make up for it by shouting for attention from street corners. But those warnings are very different from what’s spoken about behind closed doors.”

“So you’re a doomsayer?” Caffari said, snorting. “Come to tell us about the end of the world, and in the meantime, your daughter is bringing it about.”

“My wife was inducted into the doomsayer hierarchy,” Trader Ulstat said. “But that was only the beginning of her search for truth. Even as her mind cracked, she had the strength to perceive what was happening and record the whispers and desires that rose in her thoughts. So much of the changes to her mind were in accordance with the doomsayers’ canon. That’s how we began to understand the Hunger.”

I froze. At my side, a dart of shock stabbed out from Tyrak. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he and Trader Ulstat had used the same word to describe what they feared had happened to Ashkalan.

Trader Ulstat caught my eye and nodded. “You want to know what’s happened to Ashkalan. I’ll tell you plainly: it’s the beginning of the end. Many civilizations have come to this point. And few were able to turn back. The rest are gone. Erased. Not even their homelands remain. They were eaten by the Hunger.”

Silence fell, broken only by the distant hiss of lava and the roar of Ioene.

“All right, I’ll just ask it,” Caffari said. “What of all the tide-dragged things is the Hunger?”

“I’m getting there. For around five years, my wife and I followed leads from the doomsayers’ scrolls, sent clerks to libraries within the Kiriilt Islands and beyond. I hired foreign scholars to decipher ancient alphabets and languages, piecing the information together over the course of a decade. Until finally, we understood the story.

“The Hunger underpins all existence. It lurks at the edges, a great and fathomless void that wants nothing more than to steal all life from our world. Given the opportunity, it will remove every drop of vitality from both the aether and the physicality, leaving behind a cold, sterile place. And after that, it will steal even the substance from our plane of existence, suck it closer and tighter and heavier until everything we once were collapses in on itself. Becomes part of the Hunger. Only then, once we are less than a memory, will the void close.”

No one spoke following the trader’s words. Finally, Paono stood. The glimmering cloud of aurora swirled, performing a sort of twisting whirlwind that reached high into the sky.

“You mentioned this was related to your wife’s madness,” Paono said. “Which means Mieshk would have the same… What, calling? Does this Hunger whisper to her?”

Trader Ulstat pressed his lips together. The arrogance had drained from his face. “The Hunger affects everyone in subtle ways. It underlies evil actions because they bring the world closer to the chaos which may open the path. But more often, the Hunger finds its way into worlds via those afflicted with madness. A cracked mind is susceptible to its urgings. Combining the human ability to reason with this susceptibility, the Hunger seeks to open rifts.

“My wife and I discovered records of a desert people living deep inside Reknarish. In their society, those with unstable minds are often honored as healers and prophets. But their histories also tell of a madman who opened a gateway for the Hunger. He used runes—the desert-dwellers still keep them recorded on copper tablets. Until I arrived at Ioene, I’d seen them only upon the parchment where our clerk had recorded them after visiting the tribe.”

“But now you’ve seen them in Ashkalan,” Jet said.

Trader Ulstat swallowed and nodded. “Not long after her mother died, I caught Mieshk reading the scholars’ records. No doubt the symbols spoke to her. As I mentioned, my wife’s madness infected her mind at a young age. But Mieshk was altogether worse. I knew I’d lost her by the time she was five.”

“Okay, so the rift,” I said. “What is it? How do we close it?”

On anyone else, the expression that fell over Trader Ulstat’s face would have looked like regret. I wasn’t ready to give him that much credit. But at the very least he seemed genuinely concerned.

“The Hunger is close. Anyone who goes near Ashkalan can’t help but feel it pressing in. But the gate isn’t yet open. Mieshk painted those runes. I’m sure of it. But something stopped her from completing her work.”

My eyes shot to Paono, who said nothing. “And if she does finish opening it?” I asked.

“At first, the Hunger sends shards of itself through the rift. Most legends call them the Hollow Ones. They are creatures of emptiness. Some say they are gray or black or nothing at all. The absence of substance. People talk of teeth and eyes and tentacles—you see where the doomsayer legends originate.

“It starts slow. One or two Hollow Ones. But the more they eat, the wider the rift. Our world begins to flow through the rent in reality. Meanwhile, more Hollow Ones escape the void. Legions of them. They swarm over the landscape and devour souls, light, emotion.”

“How do we stop it?” Jet asked.

Trader Ulstat shrugged. “My wife and I never found that answer.”

“But these desert people closed the rift,” Jet said.

“They must have, or we would not be here. Believe what you wish about me, but I have no more desire to see our world taken by the Hunger than you do. I plan to live a long life and enter the aether. But I would give up that life now if the alternative was joining with the Hunger. Because there is nothing in that void but torment and emptiness and longing. A Hunger that can never be satiated.”

I stared at the horizon, thinking. Mieshk had been nightforging the runes to complete them, which meant she couldn't finish without more souls to feed into the process. Paono had locked most of the nightstrands away from her, and according to the prisoners, she didn’t have many “pets” left. But any new deaths might give her the final strands necessary to finish the rift. She hadn’t sacrificed her followers to create them—yet. Maybe she needed her slaves for another purpose. In any case, we needed to eliminate her before she took that step and finished what she started.

“How many runes remain?” I asked. “Do you know?”

He shrugged. “I didn't remain in the harbor any longer than you did, I'd gather.”

I pressed my lips together. “We need to discuss this in private,” I said. “Jet, escort Trader Ulstat to the brig.”

Trader Ulstat nodded his acceptance. “I expected no better when I came aboard alone. But I suspect you understand the stakes now. Despite your low birth, you’re not so inept as to ignore what I say. Or if you are, I hope your friends can compensate. I am your best hope for getting Mieshk to a vulnerable position. And I don’t think I can defeat her without your strength. We must help each other. I think you understand that.”

Clenching my jaw, I looked away.

Roughly, Jet lifted the man from his seat. With his sword drawn, my general escorted Trader Ulstat to the ladder leading below.

“Well then,” Caffari said. “Seems we have a lot to discuss.”

Chapter Thirteen

AS WE FILED along the deck toward Caffari’s cabin to continue the discussion, Tkira lingered at the rear of the group. Outside the cabin door, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder.

“You’ve got plenty of voices and opinions,” she said. “I think I’d be of more use helping Daonok with the prisoners.”

When she spoke, a peculiar light entered her eyes, and her hands fidgeted. Daonok and Tkira? Was something going on there?

I hid my smile as I nodded. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Eyes shifty, she spun on her heels and dashed off for the nearest hatch. A glance at Caffari told me she’d sensed the same eagerness I had—the bandit leader’s mouth was twisted in a wry grin.

As our small group entered Caffari’s cabin, I caught the others staring at the furnishings. Caffari wasn’t a show-off, but she was a smuggler and a thief. The decorations that adorned her walls hinted at her occupation. A star map, carved of teakwood with jewels sparkling in the place of constellations, hung above her bunk. She’d told me it came from Reknarish, traded to her by a pirate working near the Stornisk Maelstrom. On another wall, she’d placed a stringed instrument made from a hide-wrapped frame adorned with silver and gold parrots. Caffari had stolen it herself from a jungle-clad island beyond the Waikert Archipelago. The people there lived inside an ancient volcano, their homes dangling from rope bridges that spanned the ancient crater. Or so she’d told me.

A low bench set with plush cushions lined two walls of the room. In front of it, a table held parchments and letters.

One by one, we slid onto the bench. We sat in grim silence for a while, the light rocking of the ship sending us swaying with each wave. Through the porthole in the rear wall, I watched a school of jellyfish drift on the currents. Beside me, Raav radiated tension. Occasionally, another wave of regret crossed his face, and his hand found the scar where his sword had pierced my back. He ran fingers over the slightly raised ridge.

As I scanned the group, realization penetrated my thoughts. I’d assumed we’d come back here to discuss ways we could use Trader Ulstat’s information without putting trust in it. But by the looks on their faces, the others were genuinely considering his offer. My lip began to curl in disgust. Hadn’t they learned by now?

“I’m not going to join forces with that man,” I blurted. “Absolutely not!”

Stunned silence followed my outburst.

“Lilik,” Paono said. Hands flat on the table, he met my eyes without flinching. “You heard what he said about the rift. And I was there. I saw it.”

The wood of the bench creaked as the others shifted to stare at Paono. Not wanting to break his confidence, I’d kept the memories he’d shown me to myself. While they watched, the cloud of glimmers swirled lazily around him.

“This is new,” Captain Altak said. “Go on, Paono.”

Paono’s eyes traveled the group. “She was etching runes in the walls using fire that streamed from her hands, then powering them with nightstrands. You could feel the pressure in the air. Like some awful energy wanted to force its way in. Some of you felt it firsthand when you visited Ashkalan’s harbor. As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter who we must ally with as long as we keep that rift from opening.”

Around the room, my so-called advisors began nodding. I stared at Paono. How could he? I slapped the table, causing everyone to jump.

“Don’t you see? We can’t trust him. Sure, I could swallow my pride long enough to work with him… If he was actually honorable enough that some good might come out of it. But he’ll betray us the first chance he gets.”

Raav’s hands were clasped loosely on his lap. As he inhaled to speak, his fingers curled into fists. “Lilik… Ashhi betrayed you. I know. But Trader Ulstat is right about our chances against Mieshk. We simply can’t get to her. And if she’s nightforging those runes… Even if we did manage to kill her followers, we’d only make it easier for her to open this gate by supplying more souls.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Everyone was against me it seemed. I wanted to tell them that Paono was the reason behind my missing magic. He’d locked the strands away, and he was too sensitive to release them. I knew it was petty. But I had to make them understand—Ulstats could not be trusted.

Paono’s brows raised in a plea for compromise. Nostrils flaring, I fixed Captain Altak with my gaze.

“Even you, Vidyul?” I spat. “After the Ulstats killed Nyralit?”

I regretted the words the moment I spoke them, but it was too late. The captain’s face hardened. His slate-gray eyes said everything that I knew the rest were thinking. I’d gone too far. My temper may have just cost me not only my leadership but also my voice in this group.

My gaze fell to the table. “I didn’t mean that,” I said, the words heavy on my tongue.

Jet had taken a seat at the end of the bench and now stood to pace the room.

I really screwed up now, I said to Tyrak.

I won’t argue that, he responded. And I also think this is about more than Trader Ulstat. I think you’re upset that Paono challenged you after you worked so hard to gain the respect of these people.

Yes! He just completely undermined my authority. It’s hard enough to get them to follow someone who is seventeen…

Here’s the thing, though. Leading people isn’t about controlling them. Sure, the leader makes the final decisions, but only after listening to input.

It’s too late for that. I’ve already lost them.

I’m not so sure, he said, sending encouragement across our link. Anyone can make mistakes, but only the strongest and most confident leaders can admit them.

I sighed, embarrassed to look up. Aside from the lap of wavelets against the hull, the only sounds in the cabin were the heavy tread of Jet’s footfalls.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I let my frustration get the best of me. The last weeks have been difficult, but it’s no excuse. Can we start over? Paono’s information about Ashkalan… it agrees with what Trader Ulstat said, more or less. What should we make of that?”

I held my breath during the pause that followed. When Captain Altak inhaled before speaking, my shoulders sagged with relief.

“Let’s say we consider using Trader Ulstat,” the captain said. “He has the advantage—we can hope anyway—of being able to speak with Mieshk without being killed on sight. Can we use it? And as Lilik was right to question, can we trust him?”

Caffari put her heels up on her table and leaned back. “Let’s assume we can’t. Trader Ulstat never acts out of anything but self-interest. But I think we can work with that. We just have to put him in a situation where helping us is his best choice.”

At once, I saw where she was going with this. “As long as the consequences of betrayal are worse than the consequences of sticking with the plan, he’ll go along with what we say.”

“So we’re agreed? We use him?” Raav asked. When he’d spoken against me, I had moved away without realizing it. Swallowing, I closed the gap.

Jet stopped pacing and stared at me. “If Lilik agrees, I’m for a temporary alliance.”

My heart warmed at his show of loyalty. I could always count on Jet.

I nodded. “But I won’t forget the people he’s harmed. I made a vow to get revenge, and I won’t break that promise. I’ll only delay before keeping it.”

After we’d finished laying our plan for taking Mieshk down, we left Caffari’s cabin and went our separate ways. Captain Altak had offered Paono a permanent cabin aboard Zyri’s Promise, and the two men clambered onto the Vanished ship’s deck.

I watched them go with a twinge of melancholy. During the discussion about strategies for Mieshk, the captain’s eyes hadn’t met mine. I didn’t blame him. I just hoped he’d forgive me for my heartless comment.

With the night air cool against my face, I walked to the front of the ship. As I approached the rail, I heard footsteps behind me. Raav stepped up and laid his hands on the polished wood of the rail.

“Do you think the plan will work?” he asked.

I sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll feel better about it after some rest.”

“Can I walk you to your cabin?” His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but still it held the low tones that had always reminded me of a cello, sonorous and haunting.

The truth was, I needed time alone, but I nodded anyway. “Sure,” I said, my voice less inviting than I’d hoped. Though I’m sure he sensed the distance in my heart, Raav swallowed and laced his fingers through mine as we turned for the ladder.

The door to my cabin had been closed while I was away. I stood in the doorway for a minute to let the dampness air out a bit before shuffling inside. Raav followed, leaving the door ajar behind him—he wouldn’t be staying.

“Are you okay, Lilik?”

I flopped onto the bed, exhaustion pushing me down like a heavy blanket. “I understand why the others argued with me. Is it wrong that I hoped you’d back me up?”

That had come out more harshly than I intended. I was just trying to be honest. But by the look on Raav’s face, I’d messed up yet again.

He narrowed his eyes. “If you wanted someone who would just agree with everything you say, maybe you should have chosen some weak-willed commoner.”

I flinched. “It’s still there, isn’t it? You’re a trader, and I’m a gutterborn. And neither of us will ever forget that.”

Raav rushed to my side. “I’m sorry, Lilik. You didn’t deserve that—I was lashing out. But you do deserve someone who respects you enough to tell you their real feelings. Your hatred for the Ulstats was blinding you, and I don’t regret saying something.”

You should listen, Lilik, Tyrak said.

If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it. But I knew that Tyrak was right.

“It’s just the situation,” I said. “It’s making us fight.”

Scooting over, I patted the bunk. Raav lay beside me and pillowed his head on his hands as he stared at the ceiling. “I know, Lilik. I forgive you. Things have been stressful...”

I rolled onto my side and gave him a mischievous grin. “Any ideas how we might relieve some of that stress?”

Raav smiled back, clasped my shoulder, and pulled me toward him. Our lips met. He tasted of spices and smelled like sun-warmed wood. Tingles spread outward from my belly as his hand ran down my back. For a moment, there was nothing in the world but Raav’s body against mine.

But he froze when his fingers brushed my new scar. With a gentle nudge, he pushed me back. His eyes were still closed.

“I still remember the feeling. I was so desperate to fulfill Avilet’s command. I would have killed you if Mavek hadn’t…” His throat closed down over his words, strangling them, as he sat up. Planting his feet on the floor, he rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face to his hands.

“Raav,” I said, laying a hand on his back. “It wasn’t your fault. How can I help convince you?”

“You can’t.” His hands muffled his voice.

“I’m alive, Raav. We can go forward from this. Forget that it happened.”

Abruptly, he sprang to his feet. When he turned, his face was a mask of anguish. “Maybe I just need rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lilik.”

“Wait, Raav.” I raised a hand to stop him, but he was already gone.

Chapter Fourteen

“IT’S AN INSULT,” Caffari muttered. “No… it’s a defilement.” She stood by a cleat on the deck. A roped was bound to the metal anchor, the other end tied into a harness that held one of her thieves over the edge of the rail. The dangling smuggler held a makeshift paintbrush cut from one of the ship’s brooms. She dipped the brush in a pot of whitewash then added a curve to the insignia of House Ulstat taking shape on the side of Shards of Midnight. At the front of the ship, another smuggler was lowering the dark pennants Caffari favored for her vessel, replacing them with flags fetched from the Ulstat ships.

“No one but Mieshk and her band will see,” I consoled her. “And I’ll help scrub the hull clean after this is over. “

Caffari snorted while she fiddled with one of her throwing knives. “No one will see, yeah. But I’ll always have the memory up here.” She tapped her temple with the point of the knife.

I gave her an amused smile. “Truly, I appreciate your sacrifice.”

Despite everything, I’d slept well. Apparently, my body had realized how desperately I needed rest, even if my mind had been unwilling to settle down. Raav’s turmoil kept returning to my thoughts, but I pushed it away best I could. I had a responsibility to everyone on Ioene, and I couldn’t let my feelings get in the way.

During the night, a small scouting party had been sent out in the Midnight’s dinghy. Because we couldn’t thread the shoals near Mieshk’s camp due to the heavy swell hitting the island, any approach by sea would need to hug the coast along the inside of the reefs. Fortunately, the scouts had found a narrow channel that would give the Midnight entrance into this band of protected waters. It would be a risky approach to the encampment, but Caffari felt her crew was up to it. Her smugglers were quite skilled at navigating treacherous waters avoided by law-abiding sailors. As soon as the ship was ready, she and a skeleton crew posing as Ulstat guardsmen would take Trader Ulstat to his daughter.

Meanwhile, around a dozen of us would approach the fortress overland. Paono had said he knew a route between this area and Mieshk’s beach. It was treacherous in places, but for this plan to work, we needed to arrive separately from the ship. Besides, Caffari’s thieves were nimble and accustomed to dangerous approaches. And the fighters joining our party from among Captain Altak’s crew were highly motivated to seek revenge after what had happened during the Nocturnai.

Ioene was quieter today than she’d been. The lava still surged from her crater, oozing down the mountain’s flanks in the rivers of black crust webbed by glowing cracks, but the ash plume clung near to the volcano’s peak. The smell of cinders was largely absent, replaced by the salty breath of the sea and the perfume of kivi blossoms.

I’d been up before the moon for a quick trip onto the island. The root pulp from the Eikkas tresses I’d harvested was safely stowed in a watertight flask within the rucksack I’d packed shortly after returning. The pack sat against a pile of rigging now, awaiting our departure.

Though I still wore the hardened leather armor over my chest, as well as a pair of bracers to defend my forearms from blows, I’d changed into thin trousers and shoes with soles of supple leather. Daonok had suggested the clothing so that I could move freely on the approach. Better to arrive in one piece than fall off the ledge because I moved awkwardly in the metal-ribbed leggings that provided extra protection from edged weapons. In loose trousers after so long confined to the stiff armor, I felt as if I could turn flips through the air.

Over on Zyri’s Promise, Paono was deep in conversation with Captain Altak. I hadn’t had a chance to speak with either of them after the meeting yesterday. Given everything our friendship had been through, I didn’t think I needed to say anything to Paono. By my guess, though, I still had a ways to go to earn Captain Altak’s forgiveness for my callous remarks. After we dealt with Mieshk, I’d be sure to seek him out.

As I tapped a cupful of water from one of the casks that had been stacked atop a crate for ease of access, the ragged group we’d taken captive emerged from the hold. No longer bound, they appeared to have been treated well. Daonok and another thief climbed the ladder behind them and encouraged the small group over the rail to Zyri’s Promise. No sense bringing them back to Mieshk. Every person aboard the Midnight was someone Mieshk would turn to her side if she got close enough to influence them. We’d decided to send as few sailors as were necessary with Caffari and Trader Ulstat.

After seeing the prisoners across the rail and into the hold of Captain Altak’s ship, Daonok returned and greeted me with a nod.

“Ready? Best if we have a head start.”

I nodded. “Is everyone else?”

“They will be as soon as I crack my knuckles at them,” he said. He hesitated afterward as if he wanted to say something else. Another warning about keeping myself safe, most likely. But after a moment he inhaled and gestured toward the beach. “Have someone ferry you over. We’ll be ready to go in just a few minutes.”

I thought about fetching Raav; he was coming with the overland group. But after last night, I thought he might want privacy. Lifting my rucksack from the deck, I swung it over my shoulder and headed for the dinghy. A pair of smugglers turned the winch to lower the rowboat to the sea. The thief at the oars didn’t seem to want to make conversation as we headed for the beach. Me neither.

I didn’t have long to pace before the rest of the group assembled. Raav greeted me with a quick hug. At least he hadn’t given up on us. We would work this out as soon as we had the luxury of time. As for the others, I counted eleven smugglers and sailors, plus Daonok and Paono.

My best friend stood somewhat apart from the group. Though he answered when people greeted him or asked him simple questions, he seemed so much more distant and distracted than the person I remembered. No doubt his time alone had worked changes on his heart, along with his regret over the dawnweaving. I wondered if having the aurora inside him had changed him, too.

I closed the distance between us and touched his shoulder. “You ready? You seem… lost in thought.” I didn’t want to say distracted because I worried he’d take offense.

He nodded. “I’m just adjusting. I got used to having no one but myself to talk to.”

I searched his eyes. Was that all?

Casting me a halfhearted smile, he nudged my shoulder with his knuckles. “Don’t worry, Lily Pad. I’ll be fine once all of this is over.”

I nodded before turning away. I hoped he was right, but concern for him still ate at me. The events on Ioene had been hard on all of us. And Paono had such a good heart. It made him all the more susceptible to strain.

With a clatter of metal against metal, the thieves shouldered their packs. I whirled, surprised at the noise.

“Don’t worry,” Daonok said with a grin. He nudged a cluster of climbing gear hanging from the outside of one of the packs. Pitons clanged against each other while a hammer for driving them into cracks in the stone knocked against buckles securing the load. “With luck, we won’t need this stuff and we’ll be able to leave it behind long before we reach the fortress. On the other hand, if we do need it, we’ll be quite happy to have brought it along.”

I shot a glance to Paono. He shrugged. “I mentioned the path was a little difficult.”

“This way,” Paono said as he squeezed into a tight chimney of stone. The narrow cleft tunneled back into the mountainside for about twenty paces before pinching off, an apparent dead end. Turning sideways, Paono pressed his back against one wall and his feet against the other as he prepared to shimmy upward.

“Wait,” Daonok called from near the entrance to the wide crack. We’d set a marching order early on. Paono, then me, then Raav with the assorted crew and thieves intermixed behind. Pulling a length of silken rope from his backpack, Daonok passed it up. “Tie your packs on. I can’t count the number of times I’ve punctured a waterskin or crushed a sweet roll by chimney climbing while wearing a backpack. Two or three rucksacks at a time. We’ll haul them up from the ledge above. There is a ledge, right?”

Paono swallowed. “Well, sort of.”

“Wasn’t there a ship going to the same place we’re bound?” one of Captain Altak’s crew grumbled.

The nearest thief wiggled his way forward and helped Paono with the knots before gesturing for my pack. While I waited for the load to be secured, I rested my hands against the stone. Ioene sent icy tingles up my arms. I closed my eyes, hoping to feel something more from the mountain. On my first trip here, I’d learned to sense the spirits of the Vanished while in contact with Ioene’s stone—the local magics of the fire and the aurora somehow strengthened a soul priestess’s power. Yet the fires deep in Ioene’s belly had also caused the cataclysm. Or rather, a coven of compellers had caused it by forcing too many strands to give their energy to the fire. At least, that’s what I’d been told. But after what I’d learned about the Hunger, I wondered whether the truth was more complicated.

Paono began to climb, grunting quietly each time he pressed his palms against the rock to scoot his back up the rough stone wall. Once he was high enough, I took a deep breath and wedged myself beneath him, moving one foot at a time then mashing my palms beside my butt and inching higher. The muscles in the backs of my legs and arms began to cramp after just a few repetitions.

All this time sitting around on boats has made me weak, I said to Tyrak.

I think the problem is more with your friend Paono’s choice of route… I lived on Ioene a long time. I’d say it’s the mark of a civilized people to favor roads over the roosts of bats.

I smiled. If nothing else, I’m sure this is the most direct path. Paono may want simple things from life, but I’ve never known him to pass up a chance to make his task harder.

Hmm. You told me once that you and Paono were more different than you’d once imagined. But I see a lot of similarities. Though he teased, Tyrak extended beyond the bounds of the dagger and added his strength to mine. The going got easier, and my arms shook less when I braced them against the wall. After a few minutes of climbing, I arrived breathless on Paono’s so-called ledge. Around two paces wide and sloped alarmingly toward the sheer drop at its edge, the perch would have room for just five or six people. Some of us would need to continue on to give space for the others to climb up.

Straining to pick out details in the faint light from the heavens, I examined the rock face ahead. Where the ledge ended, a series of hand and toe holds shot across the cliff, ascending diagonally for a distance of about fifty paces to an actual flat spot atop a pedestal. During our childhood, I’d been a better climber than Paono. He’d come this way before, so I had no doubt I’d make it across. But glancing at the drop to the boulder-strewn slope below, I shuddered. The scars on my palms had been caused when a foothold had broken as I’d climbed a ridge in an attempt to escape Mieshk’s hunters.

“Hey Daonok, I’m ready to see how those pitons work,” I called.

No sooner had I spoken than a thief poked his head out of the chimney. “I’ve been hoping we’d have the excuse.”

He’d made the ascent one-handed, carrying his pack in the other. From one side of the pack, he unbuckled a length of thin cord that had been threaded through holes in the ends of the iron spikes. On the other side, a cluster of oval rings with hinged gates was fixed to another strap.

He nodded at me as he hefted the pack onto his shoulders. “Unfasten me one of those carabiners.”

When I squeezed the gate, the carabiner opened. I unhooked it from the cluster and handed it over. The man had holstered his hammer in a hardened leather ring attached to his belt. After unthreading a piton from the cord, he squinted at the wall behind Paono.

“Move this way, please,” he said to Paono, nudging my friend toward the chimney. The thief then set the iron spike against the crack no farther than a hand’s width from Paono’s skull.

“Uh,” Paono said, turning his head in alarm at the nearness.

The thief grinned. “I’m used to night climbing. But it’s a rare treat to bring a glowing human torch along. Makes it easier to find good placements for my pins.”

With that, he smacked the end of the piton with the hammer. Metal rang, the pitch getting higher with each hammer strike as the thief drove the spike into a crack in the stone. Finally satisfied, the man clipped the carabiner through the eyehole on the exposed end of the piton, reached over his shoulder into his pack and came up with the end of a heavy silken rope, and fixed it to the carabiner. Moments later, he’d turned a couple armfuls of the same rope into a harness that wrapped Paono’s legs and hips.

“Good,” he said. “Now you can help me bring up the packs without the weight throwing you back down to the bottom of the cliff. As for you…” He looked at me as he removed another piton from the cord and eyed the rock wall in search of a suitable fissure. “Once I get this anchor reinforced, I’ll belay you—let out rope, I mean—while you lead across.”

I blinked. “Me?”

He nodded as he whacked the next piton, sending it singing into the stone. “You’re lightest. Easier to catch if you fall. Plus, you have small fingers that fit into narrow cracks.”

I glanced across the sheer cliff face. “But I don’t know how to put in those… What did you call them? Pins?”

“That’s the easy part,” he said, holding out the cord with the jangling metal. “You wedge them in the crack and smack them. Hard.”

Reluctantly, I accepted the rack of pitons. Made of iron in different shapes, some narrow and flat like the blades of butter knives, others of thicker metal folded at an angle to wedge into wider cracks, the spikes were heavier than I’d anticipated. But Tyrak quickly flooded me with extra strength, nudging my weight the other direction to keep the sudden heft of the clanging iron from knocking me off balance.

“You sure this is a good idea?” I asked.

He grinned as he started wrapping loops of rope around my legs and waist to form a harness. “Better you than me.”

With nothing but air beneath my heels and my fingertips pressed onto narrow ledges, I felt freer than I had in weeks. I concentrated on every move, the drop to the slope below tugging at me and reminding me of the consequences if my focus slipped. The harness was snug around my waist, and a loop of a knotted cord was slung over my shoulder and across my body. On it, the pitons were held on individual carabiners. With the precarious traverse I was making, I wouldn’t be able to get both hands free to slip a piton off the length of cord without dropping the whole bundle.

The soft-soled shoes bit into narrow ridges of stone as I placed the edge of the ball of my foot against the cliff. Weighting my foot, I wedged my fingers into a vertical crack and used the hold for balance while I rocked on to the new foothold. The change in position started to lever me out from the wall, and I clamped harder with my trailing hand while crossing my free leg behind the planted foot for balance.

A grin landed on my face. This was fun.

Back on the ledge, four of our party had climbed up and joined Paono and my belayer at the anchor. The thief had added to the single piton he’d driven into the stone, pounding two more spikes into cracks. That way, he’d said if someone did something stupid like jump off the edge, the group wouldn’t be relying on a single placement to keep them secure.

“Now would be a good time for another pin,” the thief called out.

I glanced back at the loop of rope between my harness and the last piton I’d pounded into the rock. At least three arm’s lengths separated me from the spot where the rope ran through the carabiner. If I fell, the thief would lock down the belay to keep more rope from paying out. But still, I’d swing back beneath that last placement, no doubt bouncing off the rock a few times before I came to a halt, dangling from the little iron spike.

Okay, so maybe he had a point. Another pin would be good.

Squinting, I examined the stone near my face. No cracks split the rock except for the vertical fissure I’d used to make my last move. I leaned to the side to try to peer inside it. I thought I had a piton that would fit. Unfortunately, my fingers were currently jammed into that spot.

“No placements here. I’ll have to go a little farther,” I said.

It looks harder ahead, Tyrak commented.

Yeah, well I don’t think I can reverse that last move. Not without falling. And I can’t exactly stay here. I’ll run out of energy.

Now that I’d let myself admit it, my arms were getting tired. Standing on the small ledges, I’d burned through much of the strength in my calves, too. I glanced back at my last point of safety. When I’d pounded the spike into the rock, it had felt solid. But what did I know? I’d never tested one of these pitons.

I swallowed and scanned the rock again, hoping I’d missed a little gap I could use for one of my smaller pitons. Nothing. A crystal crumbled from beneath my right toe as I adjusted my stance. The sudden bolt of fear caused my leg to start to tremble.

I took a deep breath and examined the next moves of the traverse. Tyrak was right. The holds got thinner. My hands began to sweat, the moisture slick against the rock. One hand at a time, I let go and wiped my palms on my trousers.

Just focus. You can do this, Tyrak said. My gaze flicked back to the ledge where the others watched in tense silence. The thief holding my rope had it in a white-knuckled grip.

I closed my eyes and turned my face back to the rock, swallowing. After a deep breath, I opened my eyes and scanned the rock ahead. Where the fingers of my right hand were wedged in the crack, Ioene’s energy tingled through my scars. I focused on that, imagining the island’s magic guiding me. As I abandoned myself to the sensations, I envisioned the stone as a large map. Somehow, feeling Ioene within me, I could sense where the rock might fracture. With my lips pressed together, I released my left hand from the knob it was pinching. I focused on my balance as, one by one, I wiggled the fingers of my left hand into the gap where my right hand was jammed.

I breathed shallowly through pursed lips as I worked my right hand free. From my shoulders to my knees, I held tension in my body to keep from swinging out from the rock while I stretched for a hold I couldn’t see. The fingers of my right hand crabbed along the face until they latched an incut edge that had been hidden from sight. But it hadn’t been hidden from my mind’s eye. Ioene had shown me the way. Hopping to switch my weight from my right to my left foot, I edged my right toe around a bulge in the stone and curled my foot until the leather of my shoe landed on a large toehold.

With a whoop of joy, I transferred my weight to the new stance. The balance was much more secure, and I was able to unclip a piton from my shoulder sling and shove it into a crack just above my head. Three solid whacks of the hammer sank the spike deep into the rock, and I clipped my safety rope through the carabiner. Back on the ledge, I heard my belayer sigh with relief.

I looked back and grinned as if I’d never been concerned.

Ahead, the traverse looked easy by comparison. As I dried my hands on my pants one more time before continuing, Raav’s head popped out of the chimney.

“What is she doing?” he asked Paono.

“Just being herself,” my friend responded.

A swirl of wind capered down the mountainside, lifting my hair as I hurried across the remaining moves before the pedestal. Far below and out to sea, waves crashed against the reef. My forearms were aching from the strain of holding my body weight on edges no wider than my fingertips, but I wasn’t concerned.

Soon enough, I stood on the pedestal, a wide table big enough for our entire group to gather. As my belayer had instructed, I searched out fissures for three more piton placements and pounded the spikes into the rock. On the last one, I managed to smash my thumb. I yelped, and the rope at my waist came tight. When my belayer saw me sucking my thumbnail, he rolled his eyes and paid out slack. After knotting the rope to the new anchor, I took a deep breath of the sea air and turned to examine the path ahead.

Glassy eyes and a too-bright grin greeted me. Mieshk’s follower jumped at me from behind a pile of rubble where the pedestal met the cliff face.

I yelled and raised my hammer in defense.

Chapter Fifteen

THE WOMAN’S HAIR was ratted. Dirt smudged her face. But beneath the filth, I recognized her. The cleaver in her hand confirmed it. Weeks ago, I’d known her as the head cook aboard the Evaeni. She wore ratty sandals, the soles woven from dried seagrass, strapped on by ragged strips of leather. As she advanced, the shoes folded under her toes, catching on sharp ridges of rock. I cringed. Any moment, she’d trip and go flying over the edge. Not that that would be terrible, seeing as she was attacking me.

But any deaths would only add to Mieshk’s power. Rotating the wooden handle of the rock hammer in my hands, I stepped to put my back to the wall and examined her for weaknesses. I needed to disable not kill her. It was critical.

With a shriek, the woman sprang. One of her shoes flapped when she left the ground, folding when she came down. She went down on a knee but turned the motion into a desperate scramble, beastlike toward me.

I raised my leg to kick her in the shoulder, maybe knock an arm out and send her sprawling. But she was faster than I expected and with a howl, wrapped grubby hands around my ankle. As I tried to shake her free, she yanked my leg and sank her teeth into my shin.

“Ow!” I yelled, kicking hard enough to dislodge her.

The cook landed on her butt and elbows and snarled, wide-eyed. Behind me, the rope leading from my anchor across the face snapped tight. People were shouting on the other ledge. I ignored them and kept my eyes on my attacker. She scuttled like a crab over to a boulder and used it to help herself up.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said. We were more than a thousand paces from Mieshk’s fortress. Her compulsion didn’t hold here. I just had to convince the cook that we meant her no harm.

At my words, her face screwed up in a mask of despair followed by rage. And then, her face stilled, looking almost dead. With uncanny calm, she stood and unstrapped the sandals from her feet. I recovered from my surprise at her sudden transformation. This was my opening. I jumped, hammer raised high. A blow to the head would knock her unconscious without killing her, provided I aimed it right.

I focused on her temple as I flew through the air, but suddenly a hard band jerked across my hips, stopping me short. I fell on my knees and hands, and the hammer skittered toward the edge of the pedestal, stopping just a hand’s width from the edge.

The woman laughed though her face remained as emotionless as before. Maybe she’d gone insane from so long suffering under Mieshk. Still stunned by the sudden loss of momentum, I patted my hips. Of course. The harness. When I’d tied the rope to the anchor, I’d given myself just an arm's length of slack to move around.

As the woman stood straight and hefted her cleaver, I back-stepped and pulled Tyrak from his sheath. My free hand landed on the rope tying me to the rock wall. I didn’t have time to cut it, not if I wanted to be able to parry a blow from that cleaver.

Swallowing, I raised Tyrak and fell into a defensive crouch.

From the open cliff face I’d crossed, I heard grunts, the clang of metal, and boots scraping over rock. A flick of my gaze showed one of Caffari’s rogues using the rope as a hand line as he paddled his feet sideways across the cliff. I licked my lips, hoping my pitons would hold.

With a feral shriek, the woman sprang. The cleaver glinted in the light of the aurora as it swung in a wide arc overhead. I got my forearm up, blocked her hand with the bracer, and struck hard with the pommel of my dagger to smash her fingers between the hardened leather on my arm and the metal of the dagger. Her grip on the cleaver loosened, and it fell to the ground, narrowly missing my toes.

She growled, low and loud, but when she tried to reach for her weapon, I kneed her in the face.

The cook staggered backward, hands coming to her nose as blood sprayed. Yet still, her face showed no expression. I didn’t understand it.

With a shout, the rogue jumped the last distance across the cliff face and landed on the pedestal. He ran at the woman, slamming his shoulder into her ribs. They both went down, but the cook regained her feet first. She turned her face to me, and finally, the mask cracked into a grin. With a shrug, she turned to face the sea and the outer edge of the pedestal and started running.

No!” I yelled.

The rogue saw what was happening and leaped for her. He caught her ankle and pulled her down just before she jumped. The woman folded at the waist, her torso falling over the edge of the cliff. Her hands slapped vertical stone. Caffari’s man outweighed her. Otherwise, they’d have surely been pulled over the brink together. Grunting, he dragged her back, and as she struggled, he clubbed her on the side of the head.

Finally, she stilled.

After the thief and I had bound the prisoner and fastened her to the piton anchor, I paced while I waited for the others to make the traverse. I examined the trail ahead. At the far edge of the pedestal, a wide ledge cut across the stone buttresses, flat enough we’d be able to walk without needing a rope for safety. No doubt the cook had used it to reach the pedestal, which meant we’d have little difficulty accessing Mieshk’s fortress.

But why had she been here? Had she known we were coming? The prisoners I’d interrogated had believed only Mavek could sense anything specific about our position or plans. But maybe they were wrong.

“Lilik,” Paono said quietly. He’d made it across the traverse and now stood at the rim of the pillar, looking down over the far side. “I want to show you this.”

As I walked up, I cocked my head at my friend. “An interesting route you found for us. Back home, you weren’t such a good climber. I’m surprised you even attempted that section, especially without a rope.”

Paono grinned crookedly, his bangs falling over his eyes as he ducked his head. The gesture reminded me of the look he used to sweet talk the laundresses into scrubbing his shirts for him.

“You hadn’t crossed it,” I said.

He shrugged. “Not exactly. When I was scouting, I turned around and found a different—longer—way past the steep part. But it had looked climbable, so I figured we should just take the shortcut. Figured someone would speak up if the traverse looked too difficult.”

I rolled my eyes as I stepped up next to him.

“We made it, right?” he asked. “And look. This is the other reason I wanted to come this way.”

Peering over the drop, I grinned. “Come see, Raav!” I called, forgetting the brooding tension that had been hanging around him.

Far below, an aquamarine pool was encircled by cliffs. Tiers of ledges ringed the pool. On one, buildings backed up to the cliff. A wave of nostalgia hit me. It was our lagoon.

Raav stepped up beside me, his movements rigid. As he looked down on our first sanctuary, a storm of emotions crossed his face. Our first kiss had happened while we sheltered inside that refuge. Was he remembering that? Or was his guilt too strong? I wanted so badly to help him forget it, but I just didn’t know how.

Steeling myself against the possibility of rejection, I slipped my hand into his. The cartilage in his neck bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t pull away, at least.

“Lilik,” Daonok called. He was crouched beside our new captive. The woman was stirring, eyelids fluttering. I hurried over, followed by Paono and Raav.

As the woman came to, her gaze swept the gathered group. Everyone had made it across the traverse, though many had muttered curses as they did so. Her expression remained flat as she stared at us.

Paono crouched beside her, opposite me, and laid a hand on her shoulder. His eyes grew distant, and I could only assume he was forging a link with her. Before I’d left Ioene last time, he’d spoken into my mind in a way similar to the nightstrands’ communication. I assumed he was attempting to do the same thing, or at least to sense her emotions like he had mine.

But after just a brief moment, he jerked away, grimacing.

“She’s not alone,” he whispered. “I tried to link with her spark. But it’s shrouded. There’s another spirit blanketing hers.”

Possessed by a nightstrand… of course. No wonder the woman had attacked us while so far from Mieshk’s fortress. Mieshk’s powers of compulsion were limited with the living, but her true strength lay in commanding the nightstrands.

I grabbed the cook’s hand. “Throw the spirit out.”

The woman’s face twisted. She struggled against her bonds.

Opening myself to the aether, I reached for the strand inside her mind. You can resist the compulsion. She commanded you to attack us. You did, and now your duty is fulfilled. You’re released.

Faintly, I sensed the spirit’s presence. Still bound to Mieshk’s will, the soul existed in her domain. Not mine. As I’d learned on Araok Island, physical space had little meaning in the aether. As long as Mieshk controlled the nightstrand, I had little hope of influencing the spirit.

I shuffled around the woman’s feet until I crouched shoulder to shoulder with Paono. “Maybe if we try together,” I said. “Speak to the woman. Help her cast out the strand while I try to break Mieshk’s hold on it.”

Nodding, Paono closed his eyes. At the same time, I cast down my walls and allowed my perception of the physical world to fade. With my awareness on the aether, I sensed Paono. He reached for me, a sensation much like a crystalline net launched from his mind to mine as he forged the spirit link that was his specialty as a life-channeler. Through that bond, I sensed the nightstrands of the Vanished. Nearby, but unreachable. Paono was right, they were locked within him. I wanted to pry at the walls of their prison but now wasn’t the time.

Ready? I said across our link, sending reassurance with my thought.

He nodded, returning a wave of trust laced with affection. Together, we reached for the woman’s mind.

Like an arrow, our combined strength pierced the barrier between Mieshk’s domain and ours. Waves of hideous intent leaked through the puncture, and I recoiled, snaring the exposed tendril of Paono’s mind and dragging it back with me.

Too late. The nightstrand that had possessed the cook streaked through the gap and dove down the tunnel from the aether into my mind.

At once, I had no control. Nothing. Like a puppet, I climbed to my feet. I felt the nightstrand’s despair, her inability to control the impulse that had sent her into my body and now compelled her to take control of me. During Vanished times, she’d been a farmer. It had been a simple, pleasant life. She didn’t want to harm anyone, but Mieshk’s command was too strong. Mieshk had demanded that I die, and the nightstrand would see the command fulfilled.

With great reluctance, she lifted one of my feet and set it down a step closer to the edge of the pedestal. The next footfall was quicker, and then I was running toward the edge of the precipice.

“No!” Paono and Raav yelled at the same time.

I heard the scrape of feet behind me, but couldn’t stop. The edge of the pillar loomed closer.

I’m sorry, the nightstrand said in my mind.

Get! Out! Tyrak barreled into the woman’s spirit, and I tripped. My shoulder hit bare stone first, followed by my face. I skidded across the top of the pedestal. My head slid past the edge. A fatal drop was right before my eyes.

Finally, Tyrak ejected the nightstrand from my body. Grabbing full control, he brought me to my hands and knees and forced me to scramble away from the drop. For once, I didn’t mind him using me like a puppet.

Across the cavern of the aether, I heard Paono yelling at the nightstrand enslaved to Mieshk. Choose the aurora! he screamed.

I can’t! she yelled. She’s calling me back.

But in that last moment, the strand regained a shred of will. Not enough to choose the aurora, but in a last act of defiance, the Vanished farmer gave herself to the fire. Not more than three paces in front of me, the edge of the pillar cracked away, molten at the edges as a large block fell and crashed to the slope below. Flame roared in the brush where the fallen section of the pedestal landed.

Following the nightstrand’s last act, the former cook from the Evaeni coughed as she struggled, finally back in control of her body.

Chapter Sixteen

I LAY ATOP the pedestal, my head pillowed on Raav’s leg. With gentle fingers, he smoothed stray hairs off my face. His eyes were haunted. How many times would he have to watch me nearly die?

I took a deep breath and sat up, pausing to look him in the eyes. As I drew breath, intent on reassuring him, he shook his head and waved me off. I nodded. We needed to keep momentum.

The group gathered around the captive parted to make way for Paono and me. My knees were still weak from the horror of being possessed. I’d known Tyrak could take control of my body because of our shadowbond, but I hadn’t expected it from an ordinary nightstrand. Maybe Mieshk’s compulsion had given the soul the ability to capture me. Or maybe I’d opened too far.

In any case, my skin still crawled from the experience.

Still bound with tight coils of rope, the cook struggled to sit. After weeks on the island, her cheeks were sunken, and her eyes peered out from dark hollows in her skull. Though Daonok crouched beside her shoulders, he made no move to help but rather waited for my command.

I nodded at him and slipped a hand behind her back. Together, we levered the woman upright and helped her scoot back to rest against the vertical cliff rising behind the pedestal.

“You’ll kill me, I imagine,” the woman said in a weak voice.

Before I could respond, Daonok slipped a blade from his boot holster. “You did just try to murder one of us. I don’t see why I shouldn’t slit your throat right here.”

I tried to catch his eye. We needed this woman’s help. She’d been through weeks of misery with Mieshk, and I doubted more threats would make her want to talk. But he seemed to anticipate my objection and cast me a sharp glare. I pressed my lips together. Okay, we’d give his method a shot.

The cook turned her eyes to me. “She wants you. So badly it consumes her.”

“Mieshk,” I said. A statement, not a question.

“Your soul will be the final offering, the sacrifice that binds the power to her,” she said. “We were supposed to bring you to her, or if that were impossible, free your spirit from your body so that she could capture it.”

“Who is ‘we?’ Are there more of you out here?”

“Half a dozen, scattered across the mountain’s flanks.”

“Each intending to take me down alone…” I said, rolling my eyes.

The woman sneered. “You’d be surprised at how well Mieshk motivates her followers, human and nightstrand alike. After that other nightcaller failed to return, she needs a new second-in-command. Whoever wins the honor will have triple shares of food. Authority topped only by Mieshk herself. Freedom from her commands.”

I flinched. How could this woman think Mieshk would keep her word on anything? As the cook narrowed her eyes at me, I felt my lip twitch.

I stood. “Go ahead and kill her.” Daonok knew the situation. We couldn’t free more spirits from their bodies, not with Mieshk waiting to capture them. But the woman didn’t know that.

“Wait,” she croaked. She licked her cracked lips. “I didn’t say I wanted that reward. I didn’t come here willingly. The strand took you, too. You couldn’t resist any more than I could.”

I’d stepped a few paces away and now turned, expression flat. Daonok kept his dagger at the woman’s throat.

“The farmer,” the woman said. “She brought me here. She was the one that fought you, not me. And seeing as she’s not controlling you now, she’s probably returned to Mieshk. Enslaving another of the human followers.” Her eyes roved the top of the pinnacle. “Or watching us.”

The woman didn’t understand the spirit had sacrificed herself to the fire. I pulled Tyrak from his sheath and turned him back and forth, letting the glow from the heavens reflect off the blade. I wasn’t sure whether to trust anything the woman said. Unlike the ambushers we’d captured, she didn’t seem to show much remorse. Then again, she might just be in shock from the experience. I wanted to know if I could trust her, but asking questions might lead the woman to lie to save herself. Better to see what she volunteered first.

“Mieshk will know you’re coming,” she continued.

“That’s obvious,” I said, stepping closer, blade raised. “Tell me something useful.”

The woman swallowed. “She plans to leave for Ashkalan as soon as she has you. Or your soul. But she may not wait. When the fire is in her, it drives her to a frenzy. You’re losing time.”

“You’re the one who’s losing time,” Daonok growled, pressing the dagger against her skin.

“She sacrificed almost all of her slave strands to make her fires brighter,” the cook said, nearly stumbling over her words. “All but the six she needs to finish at Ashkalan.”

“Finish what?” I asked, playing dumb.

“I don’t know. I can only say that whatever she wants to bring forth means doom for anyone who stands against her. She has six strands, including that farmer. Three runes left. And a final step. That’s what she wants your spirit for.”

Six, including the farmer, which meant Mieshk had only five captive nightstrands. Not enough to open the gate unless she sacrificed her own, which would surely happen if we delayed too long. “What happens if you don’t return?”

The cook trembled as she spoke. “She doesn’t care about me.”

I shared a glance with Daonok. “How good are those knots? I don’t want to waste a fighter by leaving them here to guard her. But obviously, we can’t take her with us.”

“Good enough.”

“You’re leaving me here?” the woman asked. “What if you don’t return? I’ll die of exposure.”

“A long, slow death. It’s true,” I said. “So maybe you should give us information that will help us defeat her. Then you can be assured that someone will come back and free you.”

The woman blinked while she considered her words. “Her sentries. Most are in the open, but there are some you won’t see. You need me with you if you want to win.” She shook her head. “But I’m afraid it’s pointless. As soon as you get within earshot of Mieshk, she can command you to her will.”

“An honest answer. That’s a start.” I glanced at Daonok. “Get her up and bind just her wrists. I think we can make use of her.”

The ledge had been a trail during Vanished times. As I crept forward, I spotted chisel marks and holes where something—probably a railing—had been embedded in the stone. Most likely, the trail had continued past the pedestal, crossing the sheer section where I’d strung the rope, but in the thousand years since, rockfall must have wiped it out.

With caution, we were able to move forward without needing a rope. Where rubble made the walkway treacherous, we crossed the debris one at a time just in case someone dislodged a key stone and sent the pile avalanching off the trail. Progress wasn’t quick, and I felt every minute as a chance for Mieshk to give up waiting, kill a follower, and head for Ashkalan with her six requisite souls. But we couldn’t risk losing anyone off the drop.

Plus, I had the feeling that Mieshk would wait longer than the cook suspected. She’d hated me from the beginning. I imagined she wouldn’t give up hopes of capturing me lightly. Plus, there was this plan for a sacrifice. My sacrifice.

Between difficult sections, I walked with my head high. I’d taken the lead off the pedestal, and I knew the rest of the group was watching me. My concern over Mieshk’s power was pecking at my thoughts. I really didn’t like relying on Trader Ulstat for a major part of this attack. But we had no other options; the fate of the world depended on us stopping Mieshk before she opened that gate.

Shortly after leaving the pedestal, I spotted Shards of Midnight ghosting along the outer edges of the shallows. Black in the night, the ship would have been nearly invisible if not for the white insignia of House Ulstat painted on the side. I closed my eyes and wished them luck. Our plan depended on it.

As we rounded the southern extents of the island, the trail descended toward the beach, switching back on itself to drop quickly without traveling far.

“Lilik,” Raav said when he rounded the sharp bend and started stepping down the staircase onto the next leg of the trail. He pointed.

My eyes widened. From this vantage, I had a better view across the cliff and down into the lagoon. The glowing mural was beautiful from here.

I gasped in shock when I realized that the painting on the cliff face had changed. Before, it had shown Ioene as she looked now, a volcano with dancing aurora overhead and a single glowing figure on her shore. But now, the mountain looked shrouded in darkness. The aurora had dimmed and the fires were veiled. Waves smashed the shores to either side of the picture, and on the beach two figures now stood. One glowed more brightly than the other. I knew instantly who the figures represented. Paono and I stood together as darkness fell over the island.

I swallowed. What did it mean? Was Ioene’s fate sealed? Or were we the only hope for stopping the disaster?

Out of our group, only Raav and I—and maybe Paono—had seen the mural before. There was no point in telling them about the changes. Hitching my rucksack higher onto my shoulders, I marched onward.

The trail deposited us on the brush-tangled slopes above Mieshk’s fortress. At this distance, we were too far away to make out individual figures. But occasionally, a shadow passed in front of a group of torches, momentarily blocking their glow. Mieshk and her followers hadn’t yet left for Ashkalan. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Behind us, an amphitheater of steep crags cradled the slope. The distant crash of waves echoed off the cliffs at our back. To our left, the massive lava flow that had once been a barrier between my hideout and the Nocturnai’s village moaned and cracked as it oozed to the sea. To the right, the slope fell gently toward the shore. And straight ahead, a steep but navigable descent led to Mieshk’s fortress.

The moment we’d caught a glimpse of her compound, Paono had dragged a cloak over his glowing skin. The shimmering cloud around him had gathered close and sunk into his flesh. But still, he needed to stay low to the ground or blocked from sight by others of our group. According to our plan, he’d remain here for now with his mind open to the sparks. Together with the cook’s knowledge of sentry positions, his ability to sense Mieshk and her followers would give us critical information.

As soon as we stepped off the steep trail, Daonok and two scouts had crept ahead. We waited in anxious silence for their return.

Light pressure on my arm caused me to turn. Even in the faint light, I could see the worry on Raav’s face as he looked down at me.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered to the group.

I slid my hand into Raav’s and urged him away from the others. Ahead, a jagged boulder thrust up from a foilwood thicket. After rounding the large stone, I stopped and leaned a shoulder against it. My part in this operation was dangerous. After nearly seeing me jump off the cliff edge, I could understand why Raav was nervous.

“I’ll be okay,” I said.

“Shh. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I can’t stand it.”

The pain on his face was so stark. I laid my hand against his cheek. “But I believe it. I have to.”

He shook his head. “I see the doubt on your face. Are you sure this is the best plan? “

I shrugged. “We tried to think of everything, but… You know. Best laid plans and all that.”

“I wish it didn’t have to be you.”

“There’s no other choice. It’s the safest way. ” I stopped short of reminding him that anyone else could just be commanded to kill me. But the thought occurred to him anyway. His hands trembled as he reached for my shoulders.

“It was so easy to put my sword through you. It made me realize… You’re fragile. All life is. Someone could just take you from me.” His gaze fell away while his hands curled into fists of frustration. “Here’s what I hate: the only way I can protect you is by begging you not to go. No matter how strong I am or how much power my trader-class birthright gives me, Mieshk can undo it with just a word. So I guess I’ll ask it. Will you stay here with me? Let someone else fight for once?”

It wasn’t a fair question. Of course I would do anything for him, but if I heeded that request, Mieshk would win.

“You know I can’t. This is the only way. But if you’re asking me to prove that I care for—that I love you…” I swallowed, my throat thick around my words. “I do. It’s just that there’s no future for us if I don’t face her.”

At the mention of the word love, his jaw tightened. Raav cupped his hands around the back of my head, long fingers threading through my hair. He lowered his face to mine. His lower lip trembled as he kissed me. He ran his hand down my back, hesitating at the ridge where his sword had pierced me.

Suddenly desperate, he pressed me back against the boulder. His body was tense against mine, his lips hungry. A cry rose in his throat as his hands traveled my back, my sides, edged over my ribs.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

My hand grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him closer as my lips parted again. He grabbed my lower lip gently in his teeth, bit then sucked. My knees collapsed as heat spread from my belly.

Footsteps crunched around the side of the boulder. I tried to ignore them, but someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

“Lilik, it’s time,” Daonok said in a low voice. “The Midnight has just dropped anchor.”

Raav groaned as he separated from me. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back against the boulder, and sighed.

“All right,” I said finally. “Let’s end this.”

As I stepped away from Raav, he snatched my hand. I turned and met his anguished eyes.

“Come back to me,” he commanded.

“I will.”

I hoped.

Chapter Seventeen

SHORTLY BEFORE WE’D stepped off the ledge trail, Daonok had slipped the gag between our captive’s lips. A precaution, but possibly a necessary one. Now, he and the cook crouched at the front of the group. I moved forward to join them, and with a shared nod we set off, escorting the prisoner closer to the fortress. I walked on my toes as Tyrak had taught me for stealth, ears perked for any suspicious sounds, eyes searching the jumbled slope for strange glints or motion.

After about two hundred paces, the cook raised a hand to call a halt. She pointed at a cluster of boulders another hundred paces down the hill. Squinting, I spotted the sentry. Crouched so that his back looked like a hump of stone, I never would’ve noticed him without her help. Thank the tides we’d run into the possessed woman.

Ever so slowly, I lowered my rucksack from my back. With careful hands, I pulled out the stoppered flask of root pulp from the Eikkas tresses. Sidling forward, I handed it to Daonok, then took hold of the cook’s arm in a firm grasp.

Daonok carefully pulled the stopper from the flask, slipped a crossbow bolt from his quiver, and dipped the tip into the pulp. After cocking the bow, he crept forward, then braced his weapon hand across the other forearm. The crossbow snicked as the bolt sprang free, hissing through the air. It sank into the sentry’s body with a muffled thump. The hunched figure—a man judging by his size—slumped. With a nod, Daonok returned.

“Shoulder shot,” he breathed. “Only fatal if you’re wrong about the poison.”

“I’m not wrong,” I returned. At least, I hoped I wasn’t. Half a dozen accounts from the Nocturnai logs had referenced the paralyzing effects of the roots. The sentry would be unable to move for a few hours. But he’d breathe, and his heart would continue beating.

The cook held up three fingers. Three more hidden sentries. With a nod, we crept along the slope, following her gestures. One by one, Daonok disabled the lookouts—each of them well camouflaged. We’d gotten lucky to receive the warning.

Now, if only the remainder of our attack would go so well.

We returned to the waiting group and reported our success. Moments later, Daonok and the captive headed for a point halfway between the lava flow and the fortress. Using a signal lantern, he would communicate with the Midnight. As planned, the remaining thieves and sailors dipped arrows and blades into the root pulp then divided into small clusters and set off toward the low sentry towers outside the main fortress.

I stayed back this time; my part in this phase of the attack would come later. But Raav went with the last group. As he crept away, I swallowed back the lump in my throat. It wasn’t like his mission was safe, either.

Just before he passed out of earshot, he turned. “If it’s not obvious, Lilik,” he whispered. “I love you too.”

My lip trembled. I bit it to keep from running after him.

Only Paono and I remained at the staging area. I turned to him, nervous about his reaction to Raav’s words. His eyes were distant, but he’d seemed distracted since I’d found him at the temple. I couldn’t tell whether Raav’s declaration had shocked him or not. I wanted to say something, but couldn’t find my words.

After a few minutes, he gestured with his chin toward the Midnight. “Trader Ulstat’s getting in the dinghy.”

Right. That explained at least part of Paono’s distance. He’d been focusing on the aether and the sparks he could sense through it. Did that mean he hadn’t heard Raav’s comment? And anyway, why was I worrying about it? Was I afraid that I’d lose my friend if he realized how much I’d changed—how far I’d moved on? Was there a tiny part of me that still wondered what might have become of us if none of this had happened?

In any case, now was not the time to examine my feelings. It was time to move.

“You remember what to do if there are problems, right?” I asked.

Paono nodded. If he sensed aggression in the sparks, especially Mieshk’s, he would try to form a spirit link with someone in each of the advancing groups. We would attempt to retreat. That extra layer of security gave me confidence as I set off in a crouch, each footfall carefully placed as I descended toward Mieshk’s stronghold.

I needed to be close enough to hear what happened between Mieshk and her father, but I couldn’t move in until the sentries were eliminated. When I was near enough to the fortress to hear sounds from within, the pounding of stone against steel—a blacksmith working on Mieshk’s armaments?—I dropped to my belly. Two sentry towers stood between me and the outer walls. Squinting, I could barely make out the inky shadows as our groups approached the towers.

My heart jumped into my throat as one of the pools of blackness suddenly vaulted up to the sentry’s perch. An instant later, a second attacker scrambled onto the other tower. A man shouted, quickly muffled. I screwed my eyes shut. So much for shooting them with poisoned bolts. Maybe they’d decided it was too likely the sentries would attract attention while falling from their perches.

I scanned the fortress. The shout had been so loud to my ears. But the guards atop the corners of the walls didn’t seem to have noticed—yet. Atop the close towers, our fighters struggled with the sentries. I couldn’t breathe. With a crash, the combatants atop the pillar nearest to me fell. I cringed at the sudden crash then felt a strange calm flood the area, originating from up the hill. Sounds grew muffled and movements around the towers slowed.

Paono? I asked across the faint link I felt with him. Is that you?

I think so, he responded. I felt the guards on the wall perk up. Tried to calm them.

Well, it worked. On everyone.

Moments later, the sensation of tranquility eased. Within seconds, a shape was hoisted onto the perch. Roughly person-shaped, it looked more convincing than I’d expected clothes stuffed with fallen branches would. This had been Caffari’s idea; like a farmer’s scarecrow, the figure would pass a casual inspection, especially in the darkness.

Atop the other sentry post, the struggle continued. Finally, one of the two fighters raised an arm and clubbed the other combatant on the temple. The loser crumpled. My heart thudded—I couldn’t tell who’d won. But my rising fear waned when the winner eased the unconscious form down. Soon, the thieves hoisted another scarecrow onto the tower.

I nodded in relief. So far, everything had gone to plan. More or less, anyway. My mouth was dry as the shadows melted back up the hill, no doubt struggling with the weight of their new captives.

Crawling on my belly where I could and slipping in a crouch between boulders where the terrain was too rough, I approached the wall. Lulled by the presence of her sentries, Mieshk hadn’t bothered to clear the foliage around the base of her fortifications. I was able to slip into the shadow of the outer wall, close enough that the sentries in the corner guard posts would have a hard time seeing me. Plus, I assumed their eyes were on the Midnight. No alarm had been raised when the ship had sailed into view; I hoped that meant Mieshk was blind to treachery from anyone or anything bearing her House insignia.

The wall was slick beneath my hand, like glass warmed from within. When I touched it, unease squirmed in my belly. This whole place was unnatural. Remaining low to the ground, I approached the edge of the fortifications nearest the beach. Far down the shore, between the encampment and the lava flow, Trader Ulstat’s rowboat was just scraping the shallows. As we’d planned, he was alone. He jumped out, pulled his small boat onto the shore, and started down the beach toward the fortress.

Once within earshot, he called out, “Mieshk, my daughter and heir. You’ve taken the island for our House! It’s more than I could’ve hoped.”

Moments later, the guards at the fortress’s entrance came to attention. Spearguns were raised to the sky in a sort of salute as Mieshk stepped to the threshold. After watching her father’s approach for a moment, she moved a pace beyond the gate of her stronghold.

I’d seen what the fire had done to Avilet. I’d heard descriptions of Mieshk from the prisoners we’d taken. And I’d seen her distantly through Paono’s memory. But I still wasn’t prepared for what had happened to her.

Avilet’s hair had been patchy, her eyes had glowed, and her skin had resembled a cooling lake of lava. But Mieshk burned. Fire licked her body from her toes to the top of her hairless skull. Her clothing was reduced to tattered scraps beneath the dancing flames. In some places, her flesh boiled and oozed. If not for the sharp slashes of cheekbones beneath the hollows of her eyes, I might not have recognized her. And her eyes… black stones looked out from the pits of her eye sockets, fiery pinpricks where her pupils had been.

Trader Ulstat stopped in his tracks. Revulsion showed on his face. My heart sank. If he couldn’t swallow his disgust, she’d know his deceit. The plan would fail.

Somehow, the Ulstat prime managed to gather himself. Though his eyes slid away every time he tried to look directly at her, he drew himself up and strode toward her with confidence.

I’d been biting my lip. Slowly, I relaxed my jaw.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He showed his palms. “To help strengthen your position, of course.”

“A single, pathetic man is no help to me,” Mieshk said. No matter the changes to her body, her voice held the same sneer I remembered.

“I’ve brought fighters. You’ll need them. Istanik has sent a force.”

Mieshk’s eyes narrowed. “The Istanikers are taken care of.”

Trader Ulstat, to his credit, was a good actor. “You know they’re here?”

“I know everything, Father. I know you’re a coward and a weakling and unworthy of the Ulstat name. Mother was the true prime. You’re just a figurehead. For now.”

“Mieshk, darling. I have no doubt of your strength. In fact, I plan to abdicate my prime status, sign the House over to you. But I’m worried you underestimate the other Kiriilti.”

The fires around Mieshk leaped higher. “On your knees, Father. If you insult me again, I’ll force you to put a blade through your own heart.”

Instantly, Trader Ulstat dropped to the sand. Kneeling before his daughter, his face trembled. “How did you…?”

“It’s just one of my powers, Da,” she said with a smirk.

“I…”

“Now stand.”

Stiffly, Trader Ulstat rose to his feet. I tensed, getting ready to run. If the situation were different, I’d have enjoyed watching him lose control. But not now.

But Mieshk hadn’t commanded his tongue, only his body. My shoulders sagged in relief when he swallowed and began to speak.

“You’re more powerful than I thought,” he said.

“Obviously.”

“And it’s a perfect solution to my problem. My fighters fear the island. I’m struggling to control them. With this… talent, you can help me get them off the ship.”

I tugged on a hunk of my hair. He was still following the plan, attempting to lure her away from the fortress by asking her to speak with his soldiers. But the delivery had been awkward.

Mieshk ran a black tongue over her lips. “How many? I have need for more fighters—or at least their souls. There’s something I’m trying to finish, yet my resources are stretched thin.”

Swallowing, Trader Ulstat gestured toward the beach.

“Shall we walk? You can fill me in on the way.”

Mieshk turned to look down the shore. As her eyes passed over my hiding spot, I cowered against the wall.

“I sent Avilet to deal with that gutterborn nightcaller and her friends,” she said. “Unfortunately, she failed. Now, I have others searching. I’m sure I’ll locate her soon.”

Trader Ulstat moved off a pace as if to suggest she follow. “I can help,” he said. “Tell me where to send my fighters.”

Mieshk seem to consider this. I held my breath. Trader Ulstat improvised well—I’d give him that much.

His daughter nodded at someone inside the fortifications. “You two, with me.”

My breath left my lungs in frustration as two men stepped up beside her. Judging by the strength in their arms, they’d been oarsmen aboard the Evaeni. And unlike many of her followers, they’d remained well fed. Bodyguards. Rot. Trader Ulstat was supposed to get her to come alone. But if he tried too hard right now, he’d just tip her off.

I laid a hand on Tyrak. Think we can take three of them? I asked.

I think you mean four. The minute you attack, she’ll command Trader Ulstat to join her side.

Do you think we can take four of them? I amended.

Tyrak sent me a thread of skepticism.

Yeah, I know, I said. But what choice do we have?

As the two Ulstats marched down the beach, trailed by Mieshk’s bodyguards, I crept away from the wall and paralleled their course. When I was about two hundred paces from the fortress, I felt Paono’s silvery touch against my mind.

What’s happening? he asked.

Problem, I said. She has two bodyguards.

Rot.

The others? Did they get the sentries off the towers?

All the groups except one have made it back. I think the missing party got into trouble—I sense that someone’s injured, but can’t perceive more than that without losing touch with the rest of the scene. Their sparks are returning now. We’ll hope for the best.

No alarm went up, I said. That’s what we wanted. As soon as Trader Ulstat gets Mieshk next to the boat—a thousand paces from the fortress—tell the emissaries to contact her followers. She should be far enough away that we can get them free of her compulsion, especially if she’s distracted.

As I spoke, I continued edging forward, keeping pace with the Ulstats. We’d come five hundred paces. Halfway to the rowboat.

Got it. But Lilik, you can’t fight three people, can you?

Actually, Tyrak pointed out that there’ll be four. Honestly, Paono, I don’t know.

My friend didn’t say anything for a while. Five hundred paces grew to six hundred. Finally, he thrust another thought into my mind, this one full of encouragement and confidence.

You don’t need to fight anyone else if you take her down first.

I smiled into the night. He was right! As soon as Mieshk died, her commands would evaporate and her guards would be free of her thrall. I could do this as long as I chose the right moment to strike.

Seven hundred paces from the fortress. Trader Ulstat peered over his shoulder as if judging the distance. I muttered under my breath. If he could just keep it together for another three hundred paces, we might win this. But if he appeared nervous, Mieshk would get suspicious.

A stick cracked under my foot, and I jerked to a halt, cursing my inattention. Maybe I should be worried about my part of this thing, not watching the Ulstats’ every step. Peering through the dark, I spotted a narrow passage between stands of foilwood. I pulled my arms tight to my body to avoid catching on the brittle twigs, turned sideways and threaded the gap.

We’d come eight hundred, maybe nine hundred paces from her followers. I gritted my teeth, edging closer to the beach.

Mieshk stopped walking. “You couldn’t convince a single guardsman to row you ashore? Are you really so pathetic, Father?”

I couldn’t see the expression on his face, but I imagined the offense at his daughter’s continued insults. Trader Ulstat’s shoulders tensed and his steps faltered. But when he turned to face his daughter, moonlight glinted off teeth exposed in a smile.

“As I said, my power is nothing compared to yours, Mieshk. I’ve done what I could within my limitations. I brought you soldiers, but if I try to force them ashore without your help, I’m afraid they’ll mutiny.”

She laughed. “As I said, pathetic.”

“Listen, daughter,” he said, shrugging. “I would hold onto the role of prime if I could. But you clearly outstrip me in ability. House Ulstat is yours. Take my soldiers for its defense.”

As he spoke, he sidestepped around her, forcing her to put her back to the island in order to keep her eyes on him. I shook my head into the darkness. No. Not here. We weren’t far enough from her stronghold—the rowboat was another hundred paces along the shore. I slipped closer to the edge of the beach where a rocky shelf formed a ledge about waist height above the gravel.

The bodyguards remained where they’d stopped in response to Mieshk’s halt. They were facing along the coast, toward the beached rowboat and the lava flow beyond. Not sure what else to do, I edged free of the brush at the edge of the shelf and tried gesturing toward Trader Ulstat, urging him to keep moving. If he saw me, he didn’t respond. Rot.

“I don’t recognize the ship,” Mieshk said, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Trader Ulstat smiled. “A new acquisition. I wanted a swifter vessel for the voyage.”

The man didn’t seem to be moving on. In fact, he cast an expectant look over his daughter’s shoulder as if wondering when the attack would come. Was he purposely sabotaging the plan, or had he simply misjudged the distance? In either case, every moment of delay was a chance for something else to go wrong.

I was going to have to do this now. As soon as I sprang, the whole fortress might come down on me. But it would take time for them to cover the distance, and only around twenty paces separated me from Mieshk. As long as I killed her before reinforcements arrived, there was no problem. I focused my gaze on her back, envisioning the gap between her ribs where my dagger strike would plunge straight into her heart.

I just had to be quick. Stab her before her bodyguards could react. I pressed my toe against the edge of the shelf, rocked back and bunched my legs for the jump.

With a deep breath, I sprang, pushing off hard from the edge. Midair, I heard the shriek from down the beach.

“Treachery, Mieshk!”

Stunned, I botched the landing and crashed down into the pumice. Mieshk whirled to see me floundering in the gravel.

From down the beach, more screams drew her attention. The cook raced onto the pumice and pointed at the fortress. “They plan to free the others,” the woman yelled.

For a moment, I froze, shocked. How had the woman gotten away from Daonok? Had he let down his guard, assuming her help with the sentries was proof of her loyalty? I probably would have done the same, but Daonok was far less trusting.

Moments later, I found my wits. It didn’t matter how it had happened. This whole threat vanished if I could just kill Mieshk.

I scrambled in the deep gravel, finally got my feet under me, and sprinted across the beach. Tyrak joined his energy to mine, granting me nimbleness. One of the bodyguards stepped to block my path. I dove, rolled, came up beside him and launched my shoulder into his kidney. The man stumbled and fell, and I kept going.

Mieshk was facing me now. I focused my gaze on the point directly above her heart. Nothing else mattered.

When I was close enough, I sprang. My dagger came down in a wide, high arc. Tyrak’s point landed on her chest. An instant of resistance, then he pierced her flesh and thrust deep into her chest. Straight into her heart.

My knee took her in the belly, and the flesh over my kneecap instantly seared. I winced, but a moment later, it was as if lighting struck between us, throwing me back. Tyrak came free with a sucking sound as Mieshk staggered and fell.

I grinned. When I’d killed before, I’d felt immediate remorse. Not so this time. I stamped forward, Tyrak raised high in preparation for another strike. Just to be sure.

Feet planted in sand wetted by a recent high tide, I looked down on my enemy.

Mieshk smiled.

Horrorstruck, I stabbed her again, only to be knocked back by whatever force kept us apart.

As I backpedaled, rough hands fell on my arms, plucking Tyrak away. Mieshk sat up, climbed to her feet, looked down at the gashes in her chest. Flame poured from the wounds.

As I watched, her flesh sealed over the holes. Her lips peeled back from teeth the color of Ioene’s dark stone. “I hear you have the ability to heal quickly,” she said. She scratched at her chest where my dagger had pierced her then cocked her head. “As it happens, me too.”

I kicked out behind me, my heel connecting with the knee of the bodyguard who held me up in the air. He grunted, but his grip didn’t loosen. Mieshk curled her twisted hands into fists and spun to face her father.

Trader Ulstat had backed away, and was now knee-deep in the water, trying to dislodge the boat from the gravel so that he could escape. His eyes were wide, white-rimmed.

“Stop,” Mieshk commanded.

He froze.

“Come here, Father.”

The man staggered forward as if pulled by a string. When he reached his daughter, she grabbed him by the chest and thigh, lifting him overhead as if he weighed nothing.

“Mieshk,” he said. “Please. I had nothing to do with this… In fact, I warned you about the Istanikers.”

Mieshk laughed. “Even if that were true, I don’t need you anymore, Father. I’ve just captured the only people who can threaten me. Well, almost.”

People? Who else was she talking about?

With her chin, Mieshk gestured at the other bodyguard, then twitched her head toward the edge of the beach. I glanced over, and my heart sank. Paono was crouched at the base of the rock shelf. Upon being noticed, he yelled and ran for us, barreling into the bodyguard holding me. The man staggered, but his grip only tightened. A moment later, the other guard had Paono in his grasp.

“Wait here,” Mieshk said. “I have something to get rid of.”

The Ulstat heir marched down the beach toward the lava flow, the weight of her struggling father no apparent burden. As she drew near the molten river, Trader Ulstat started to scream. Steam rose from his skin and his clothes smoked. After a few more paces, the man’s hair, clothing, and shoes burst into flame. His shrieks echoed off the surrounding cliffs. I smelled burning flesh, and with a final heave, Mieshk threw her father into the lava. He burst into full flame, and his screams died as the lava sucked him down.

When Mieshk returned, sparks lit the dark orbs of her eyes. “It’s time to return to Ashkalan,” she said.

Chapter Eighteen

I DRAGGED MY toes as I walked. Behind me, one of Mieshk’s bodyguards pressed Tyrak’s blade against the back of my neck. I felt Tyrak’s despair over the situation. Yes, I healed quickly. Maybe not as quickly as Mieshk, but I’d survive many wounds.

If the man slit my throat, though, I wouldn’t live to see Raav again. I had no doubt of that.

Nor did I doubt Mieshk would kill me if I caused her too many problems. She wanted me for something. The cook had said as much. But she could make do with just my soul. And now Mieshk had Paono, too. Shortly after capturing us, she’d tried to command him. Like me, he was immune. But that didn’t matter now.

I craned my neck to look over my shoulder. For the first half hour or so, our bodyguards had carried us over their shoulders. By arching my back, I’d watched Mieshk’s horde of followers jostle and stumble as they fell in behind us, a loose mob of mindless thralls. Soon after my capture, torches had flamed to life aboard the Midnight. Caffari’s vessel had weighed anchor and quickly come about, heading back away from the encampment. Mieshk had simply shrugged, snarled, and laughed.

And no wonder. She had nothing left to fear from my allies. No one could get close to us. The minute someone got within range of her command, she’d have them in her power.

As for the others, those who had come overland, at least they were safe. Mieshk hadn’t bothered to search the slope above the encampment. No doubt, my friends would return to the anchorage. At this point, I’d begun to think their best chance was to just pack up and sail away.

But I doubted they’d leave. Most likely, they’d make some stubborn attempt at a rescue. There were clever people aboard the Midnight and Zyri’s Promise. I hoped they’d think of something. Because I had no more ideas.

The crowd of followers was a few hundred paces behind us, grunting and staggering. Occasionally, someone fell and just barely regained their feet. And every once in a while, someone just didn’t get back up. Mieshk had starved these people, worked them to the edge of collapse, and now they were compelled to follow us on a steep climb over the shoulder of the mountain.

As I glanced back again, my toe caught on a rock. I stumbled and went down on my knee. My legs were exhausted, too. The trek from our anchorage to Mieshk’s fortress had worn me out. But I made myself get back up. I’d tried to refuse Mieshk’s forced march when the bodyguard had first set me down. In response, Mieshk had dragged the point of her knife down Paono’s arm, cutting deep. Like me, he healed quickly. But that didn’t stop it from hurting.

We’d climbed around a third of the total elevation of the mountain’s peak so far, ascending jumbled scree and boulder fields. Weeks ago, I’d come this way. Poisonous gasses had made me giddy, and I’d fallen into a crack in the earth. And another time I’d used my new knowledge of the danger to eliminate a pair of hunters chasing me. Unfortunately, Mieshk seemed to be aware of the hazard, and she often stopped to scent the air, giving any fumes a wide berth.

Soon enough, we came to the base of an escarpment that sealed off further progress. I didn’t understand Mieshk’s logic—I’d even hoped her madness had led her to a dead end that we could use to our advantage—until she stepped up close to the cliff band.

Lips pulled back from those awful teeth, she raised her hands and closed crack-riddled eyelids over the black orbs in her sockets. Flame burst from her hands, and the rock ahead of her melted. She took a step forward, etching a tunnel through the cliff as she did. Guided by her gestures, molten rock oozed out the opening, trickling down the hill and hardening. Soon, she quickened the pace by softening the rock to putty and throwing gobs out the opening.

While we waited, the crowd of followers bunched up behind us, milling. I glanced at their faces and saw both anguish and blankness. While we waited, Paono closed his eyes and furrowed his brow as if concentrating. After a moment, he shook his head.

“It’s no use,” he said quietly.

What are you trying to do? I asked over our link.

I thought maybe I could break her hold over their sparks. I might be able to free one or two, but the others would just turn on them.

I nodded. Paono why didn’t you stay with the others? You could be safe right now rather than a prisoner.

I didn’t know what else to do. I felt the panic in your spark… I know I was supposed to be focusing on everyone, but I couldn’t help it. Lilik, you matter more than the rest of them put together.

The ridge was just a narrow fin of rock separating the eastern flanks of the island from the southern extents. Soon enough, Mieshk finished her remolding, and we were passing through the glass-smooth passage and out onto the southern expanse of Ioene.

I thought about Paono’s declaration as I walked. A few weeks ago, I would’ve felt the same about Paono. He’d mattered more than anyone except my da and brother. But now I cared for Raav, too. And the others who’d come here were my responsibility. No, more than that—they were my friends.

It would be a lie to tell Paono he mattered more to me than everyone else, and in a way, that hurt. Over the past weeks, I’d forged many bonds. Maybe I wasn’t as close to them as I’d been to Paono when it was just the two of us gutterborn kids struggling to get by. But they were important to me all the same. I’d changed in ways that Paono hadn’t. To me, it seemed like just another step in our eventual parting. Not that it mattered much, given our situation.

“I don’t regret this, Lilik,” Paono said aloud. “I’d rather be with you than let you face this alone.”

“Will you two clap shut?” Mieshk said. “It’s just so pathetic. I hate weakness.”

“So caring for other people makes you weak?” I asked. “I suppose it could feel that way for someone who’s never been loved. “

Mieshk just laughed. “Love doesn’t matter. It never lasts. But power… Power feeds on itself. And thanks to my dear father’s sacrifice, I have the souls I need. I’m one step closer to gaining the power I deserve, finishing the quest my mother started.”

I caught Paono’s eyes as Trader Ulstat’s story sprang into my mind. Mieshk had found the research papers her parents had collected. But her mother hadn’t wanted to open the rift. She’d been trying to understand how to fight her affliction. Even in her cruelty and her madness, she’d tried to understand the voices in her head. She’d fought against the Hunger’s attempts to control her. Could we possibly convince Mieshk that she had misinterpreted the scrolls?

No, I doubted we could. As Trader Ulstat had said, Mieshk had shown the signs of madness when she was only five—decades before the usual onset. We had no hope of reasoning with her.

“First, I’ll imbue the final runes with the nightstrands that call the power forth, and then I’ll bind the force to me with a final sacrifice.”

As she said the last words, Mieshk turned her revolting grin on me. My feet slowed. Tyrak’s point dug into my neck.

The closer we got to Ashkalan, the more impatient Mieshk became. Much of the time, we’d followed the flagstone paths laid down by the Vanished, but once the high cliffs surrounding the city came into view, she paid no more heed to finding an easy path. Instead, she forged our trail, melting down stone and burning brush. The breeze smelled of brimstone, and the air around her shimmered with heat.

Our guards forced us to march about twenty paces behind her. Every time my hand or foot fell on the recently-melted stone, I expected to be burned. But the rocks, fused into shiny black glass, were merely warm and smooth to the touch. Whatever magic allowed Mieshk to heat stone to melting dissipated quickly.

As we rounded the southern point of the island, the group of followers had started to straggle, forming loose clusters that trailed across the mountainside behind us. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or more desperate. They couldn’t help us, but the nearness of other humans had been comforting in a strange way.

Ahead, the narrow corridor that granted access to Ashkalan loomed. When we were close enough to make out details in the surrounding cliffs, I felt the Hunger. Here, it was nothing but an oily presence, a sense of impending doom held back by a silken curtain. But soon, we would be within a hair’s breadth of its inexorable pull.

I balked. We had to do something. Frozen in my tracks, I threw myself wide to the aether and reached for Paono’s captive strands. Again, I felt the bond he kept with me, and on the other side, the crystalline prison holding the Vanished spirits.

It’s no use, Lilik, Paono said into my mind.

At once, my frustration boiled over. It’s no use because you won’t even try! I said. You’re afraid of hurting someone—maybe killing them—but by doing nothing, you’re letting her win. People will die anyway.

Paono closed his eyes as he shuffled forward. He maintained the silvery link that bound us, and abruptly I felt a tugging across that bond.

It hurt, feeling as if my lungs and heart were being pulled from my chest. I clamped my lips over the cry of shock. He was trying, and the last thing I wanted was to sabotage his attempt.

Our guards had no such motivation. With a grunt, the man holding Tyrak at my back fell to his knees.

“What is this?” Mieshk shrieked, whirling.

Despite the growing agony in my bones and the sudden weakness in my limbs as Paono pulled energy from my spirit, I spun and kicked at my guard’s weapon hand. Tyrak flew free, and I dove. My elbows cracked against fused obsidian, and I slid after the dagger. My fingers brushed the hilt then closed around the gold threadwork.

I came to my feet with a growl and slashed at the stricken guard.

Abruptly, the pain in my body vanished.

Paono fell to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. “I can’t hold it,” he cried. “I can’t Want to keep hurting people.”

Mieshk’s thugs jumped at me. With a grunt, the first led with his shoulder, a charge I dodged by whirling just in time. Tyrak’s spirit joined mine, and he urged me to convert the spin into a roundhouse kick that landed on the man’s spine, sending him sprawling.

The other guard’s fishing knife sliced across my left shoulder, cutting through my sleeve, through skin and muscle. My arm fell useless to my side.

Breath hissing through clenched teeth, I dropped into a low crouch and spun to defend against the next attack. With Tyrak clenched in my good hand, I flicked my gaze back and forth between the two guards. The man I’d kicked climbed to his feet. Together, the pair advanced. I met the closer guard’s eyes. His face showed no expression, or if anything, distaste at what he was compelled to do.

“Fight her!” I yelled. “Resist her commands!”

A flicker of pain crossed the man’s face, but he couldn’t stop his feet from advancing. Yelling, Paono threw himself at Mieshk, but she raised an arm and summoned a wall of fire before him, halting his charge.

Moments later, fire erupted in a circle around me. I screamed as scorching heat dried the tears in my eyes, and the ends of my hair curled. I pulled my arms in, made myself small. I could see nothing but flame.

Mieshk’s voice pierced the roar of the inferno. “I only need one of you for the sacrifice. Keep fighting, and the other dies right here.”

The stone around me boiled in a ring. Agonizing heat sank into me from all sides, yet I didn’t burn. She had that much control.

In a blink, the fire vanished. The sudden darkness made it impossible to see. When my eyes finally adjusted, I saw Paono on his knees, hands raised.

A guard’s rough hands clamped my arms. With a sneer, Mieshk advanced, stone softened to putty clutched in her hands. She formed a pair of shackles from the stone and slapped them on my wrists. My skin sizzled, but an instant later, the rock cooled, leaving me with cuffs of obsidian. Lifting me with ease, the guard threw me over his shoulder and started marching for the entrance to Ashkalan.

Chapter Nineteen

“LILIK,” PAONO WHISPERED.

We huddled on one of Ashkalan’s terraces about halfway between the harbor and the top of the city. The evil presence of the Hunger pressed close, filling shadows and spilling from open doorways and windows. Every breath felt like a shudder. Every heartbeat was a boom from a funeral drum.

During my first visit to the city, I’d seen it through both Zyri’s memories and my own eyes. Despite the ruin and the emptiness, Ashkalan had been full of promise. I’d imagined we could return the city to the place of beauty and wonder it had been during Vanished times, make it better, even.

But now, nothing good dwelt here. Ashkalan’s future was darkness. A black void from which the end of the world would unfurl. Within the hollows of my bones I felt the approach of that nothingness. I despaired, knowing that the Hunger would swallow us all. Even the dead.

“Lilik,” he whispered again.

I planted my hands against the grit that littered the terrace, tiny crumbs of pumice that had rained down upon Ashkalan’s perfect stone over the centuries. With great effort, I dragged my eyes to my friend. I lacked the energy to speak, and instead raised an eyebrow in question.

“I’ve been trying to contact the others. It frightens them when I speak into their thoughts… if they can hear me at all. But I finally got through to Tkira and your friend Daonok.”

I shrugged. What good would it do?

At the edge of the terrace where a low wall guarded the walkway from the drop to the next level, our guards stood at rigid attention. Surely, the evil here sank into their heads and sapped their wills as severely as it did mine. But still, Mieshk’s compulsion held sway, forcing them to continue standing watch. Down on the bottom tier, where a curved wharf was studded with a dozen stone docks, Mieshk’s other followers stood facing the center of the harbor. They lined the waterfront in a ragged line. Whenever a new person staggered from the corridor at the city entrance, Mieshk commanded them to join the group below.

At the far end of our terrace, Mieshk Ulstat blazed against the darkness of the night, low flames dancing over her molten flesh. Fire burst from her hands as she charred another rune into the seamless stone wall before her. After she had finished sketching the outline, she reached for the wooden bucket filled with a mix of seawater, mud, and ash. She dipped her hand into the slurry and slapped her dark paint onto the wall to begin filling in the outline of the rune.

“Lilik, they don’t know how to help. What should I say?”

I returned my gaze to Paono. Despite the oppressive nearness of the Hunger, he sat in relative tranquility. How could he resist the darkness? After the fight outside the city, the guards had forgotten to take Tyrak away from me again. Now, the impulse to pull him from his sheath and sink his blade into my chest was overcome only by the unconquerable malaise that blanketed my heart. That and the glassy shackles binding my wrists.

I shrugged.

“Raav asked Daonok to deliver a message,” Paono said. “He says he believes in you. You’ll find a way free.”

But I wouldn’t. Not from this. The sadness filling my body trenched deeper, sorrow so profound it might swallow me before the Hunger did. My gaze tracked across the horizon and back to the city, landing on Mieshk. As she finished painting the rune, she stiffened, shoulders back and melted face turned to the heavens. As if gathering energy from the air around her, she brought her hands forward and laid her palms on the rune.

From a vast distance, I heard the screams of the nightstrands she’d captured and imprisoned in her private domain of hate. It wasn’t like Paono’s prison, an aurora-armored shell, but rather a portion of a divided aether. Kindness against anger. Oil and water. The strands were hers, and I had no way to reach them.

Not that I could summon the energy to try.

Soon enough, the distant shrieks quieted as Mieshk forced the souls into the rune, imbuing it with the power needed to aid in opening the gate. When we’d entered the city, I could feel the trapped vitality in each rune as we’d passed. Painted symbols shed their menace over seven of the city’s terraces. On each level with the runes, there were five completed figures. On each level but ours, that is. When we’d arrived, there’d been just two on this tier. Now, Mieshk had finished the fourth. Most likely, just one rune remained.

“Lilik, I don’t want us to die today.” Paono stretched out a hand and took my fingers in his.

His words penetrated my mind, pressing through the despair. As he clutched my hand tighter, cool tingles spread up my arm. My skin began to glow as motes from his shimmering cloud spread up toward my chest.

I gasped. Chased away by Paono’s energy like mist evaporating before the heat of a furnace, my malaise fled. Why was I just sitting here watching Mieshk doom the world? No matter how oppressive the Hunger’s presence, I would not give in. I would get Paono free, fight my way back to Raav. But first, I would end Mieshk’s tyranny.

Or maybe I’d die trying. But I certainly wouldn’t wait for that fate like a terrified mouse.

I snapped my attention to our guards. Both continued to stand at the edge of the wall. Vulnerable. I swallowed. First, they’d neglected to take my dagger away. Now, they’d chosen to stand where a single shove could send them plummeting to the terrace below. Was it on purpose? I couldn’t accept that they wanted Mieshk to succeed. Yet her compulsion forced them to stand watch and fight back if we attacked.

Paono, I said across our link as I shifted to get my feet beneath me. My back scraped against the wall as I managed to get into a crouch, but the sounds were quiet enough the guards didn’t turn.

Yes?

Help me push them.

His brow knit in momentary confusion. Over the wall?

I nodded.

Paono’s lower lip sucked between his teeth. He glanced up at the building behind us and the terrace wall that towered above its roof, judging the distance the men would fall.

Yes, they will probably die. But they are giving us this chance. You see? They don’t want Mieshk to succeed any more than we do. But unlike us, they can’t resist her commands.

I don’t know, Lilik. I—He left his thought unfinished, and instead, simply pressed his lips together and nodded. Maybe it was easier to hurt or kill when there was no magic to see into his heart and know its true nature. In any case, he wormed into a crouch, got one foot forward and ready to run.

I sprang from the wall and sprinted forward. As the men spun, alerted by the crunch of my feet against gravel, I lowered my shoulder. There was just enough time to notice the absence of Paono’s footfalls before I slammed into the closer man, my shoulder thudding against his ribs. His hazel eyes locked with mine. A relieved smile twitched on his face as the low wall took him in the backs of his knees. He fell back, spine cracking against the wall, before his legs whirled over his body, momentum carrying him up and over the wall. He spun once more in the air and spread his arms wide before landing on the terrace below.

Only then did Paono move. He’d hesitated.

I had just a moment to glimpse the unnatural angle of the fallen man’s neck before the other guard barreled into me, his muscled arm wrapping my waist and throwing me toward the back of the terrace. My hip smacked the stone floor, my head snapping sideways. Paono charged and crashed into the man. Late, but maybe we still had a chance.

I slid to a stop an instant before a hollow crack echoed off the building behind me. I squirmed around to lay eyes on my friend. Paono was sitting, straddle-legged, on the terrace floor. Before him, the second guard slumped in a heap, a lump rising where his forehead had cracked the edge of the low wall.

I blinked. Swallowed. Now to get out of here. I looked up, judging the distance to the city entrance. My legs were exhausted, but we’d still be faster than the horde gathered at the harbor’s edge.

As I started to run, a line of fire burned its way across the terrace, blocking the way to the stairs. Grimacing as the heat slammed me, I slid to stop. Through the shimmering air, Mieshk approached, a shadow in the blaze.

She stepped from the curtain of flame and stared down at us.

“I warned you,” she said. “Now one of you dies.”

“Run, Paono!” I yelled as I struggled to my feet, staggering and fighting for balance with my hands cuffed. Behind us, another staircase granted passage to the terrace above.

Hands of flame sprouted from the ends of Mieshk’s arms, giant paws as wide as my chest. The heat washed over me, nearly knocking me back. She stepped closer, and pools of stone heated like taffy spread outward from each footfall. Paono rolled and pushed himself backward, heels paddling at the terrace.

When she drew even with the unconscious guard, the man’s flesh burst into flame. He woke long enough to scream before smoke choked off his voice. In a last act of defiance, he crawled to his feet and leaped from the terrace.

Mieshk’s black eyes, once again blazing deep inside, turned on me.

Chapter Twenty

“HEY!” THE SHOUT echoed down from the highest level of the city.

“Fools,” Paono whispered as around fifteen newcomers stepped to the edge of the wall.

Mieshk looked up and grinned. “I was hoping for reinforcements.”

I stared, aghast. What were they thinking? I recognized Caffari. By their stances, I guessed the others were thieves.

Paono ran his hands through his hair. “I told Daonok I thought I could shield a few of them. More like five, with some warning so that I could prepare.”

“Join me!” Mieshk commanded. Her grin spread wider as she threw her flaming arms wide. Above, our would-be rescuers went rigid. Though I couldn’t see from here, I could imagine the slack looks on their faces. Yet at the edge of the group, three people spun, looking at their companions in horror. Moments later, they too fell under Mieshk’s spell. My gaze shot to Paono who stood with eyes closed in concentration.

“I tried,” he said.

“Descend!” Mieshk yelled. “I command you to capture these two. If they resist, subdue them.”

Like thralls, the group above marched for the closest staircase. Mieshk stared, enraptured by her own power. I doubted I’d get another chance. I ran.

Six levels separated me from the harbor. If I made it to the water and past Mieshk’s gathered followers, I could probably swim free. Maybe. Then again, with my hands cuffed, maybe not. Still, I didn’t know what else to do. I dodged around Mieshk, felt the wash of heat on my skin, and sprinted for the staircase.

Before I reached it, a shriek pierced the air. A curtain of fire erupted in front of me. The leather soles of my shoes slipped and skated on the grit-strewn stone tiles, and I stopped just short of plunging into the blaze.

Panting, I spun and ran the other way. My lungs burned both from the heat and smoke and from the effort of sucking in air. Ahead, Mieshk snarled, and with a flick of her finger summoned another wall of fire. I spun again, feeling like a piglet trapped in a farmer’s run. It was no use, but what else could I do? When the next barrier of flames leaped to life before me, I sucked in a breath, screwed my eyes shut, and jumped into the fire.

My hair curled and stank. The heat on my face was excruciating. Yet I didn’t burn. Instead, the fire was an impenetrable barrier, elastic and flexing beneath my weight. The air around me sizzled. Like a greenwood tree bending and then springing back, Mieshk’s fire accepted my attack, then threw me back the way I’d come.

I landed poorly, fell backward. Only Tyrak’s sudden nudge kept my head from hitting. Instead, I rolled over my shoulder and came up aching and disoriented.

Shaking free of my bewilderment, I whirled to see a look of similar confusion on Mieshk’s molten face. She hadn’t expected the fire to respond to me in that way either. But it didn’t matter. Growling, I ran for her. The pits of her eyes widened, and she took a step back.

We collided in a flash and sizzle. She screamed. A shriek escaped my throat. Between us, an unseen force exploded and sent us flying back. As I stumbled and caught my balance, I looked down and saw blisters rising from my skin where my clothing had been burned away. Mieshk had fared no better. Where our flesh had met, hers had hardened. Frozen.

I recalled our first fight, so long ago it seemed. At the old cloister, I’d laid a hand on her while trying to recover the figurine and stop her rise to power. My hand had left a blackened print on her arm, and my palm had been burned in the same way.

I couldn’t pass through her summoned fires. Our energies were elementally opposed. Could I use that? I searched my memories for clues, rifling the dim recollections from Zyri’s time, too.

Moments later, I heard Mieshk laugh. Fire sprang up around me, pressed close like a coffin. But it couldn’t touch me. I tried to run, but the flames resisted me, threw me back. I screamed, looked down at my arm, saw blisters rising. Frantic, I rubbed at them. The pain numbed as the blisters popped, leaving shimmering flesh where the aurora-blessing healed my raw skin.

The flames pressed closer, becoming a suit that danced just a finger’s width away from my flesh. Agony on all sides. Searing heat. I couldn’t breathe.

Tyrak! What do I do? I yelled into the aether.

Against my will, my arms raised, fire crawling over the limbs.

“Isn’t this fun?” Mieshk said, her sneering voice. “I always enjoyed playing with dolls. But enough of that for now.”

When the flames disappeared, I collapsed to the terrace, breath wheezing through my throat. I blinked in an attempt to restore moisture to my eyes. The urge to retch came with a flood of saliva. Coughing, I scrambled to my feet.

The scene was blurred, Paono a glowing blue form a few paces away. A scorched ring showed where fire had held him prisoner as well. As I blinked again, trying to focus, shadowy forms surrounded me. Clawing hands fell on me. Dead eyes glinted in the night.

Helpless to resist Mieshk’s command, my friends lifted me from the ground, raised me high above the terrace. I craned my neck and spotted Paono held aloft by others.

“Now,” Mieshk said, “please hold them while I finish my work.”

Six pairs of hands pinched and prodded and shifted as they held me high above the stone floor of the terrace. Every few seconds, I tried to twist from their grasp. It was pointless, I knew, but the alternative was to accept my fate. I didn’t know everyone who held me. Tkira was beneath my left arm and rib cage. I’d caught a glimpse of her expressionless face during one twist of my spine. Imprisoned in her own head and forced to hold me captive, I couldn’t imagine the rage she must be feeling.

One of Captain Altak’s new sailors held my shoulders, and I thought I recognized the thief holding my right thigh, a young man who Daonok had been training in the art of silent movement. I hadn’t been able to get a good look at the others, but no doubt I’d be able to place all their faces, even if I didn’t know their names.

Held nearby, Paono relaxed into the grasp of his captors—Caffari among them. His eyes were closed. The cloud of glimmers around him had settled close to his body.

My lip twitched. How could he be so tranquil while this was happening? Especially since, if he could just let go of his qualms and concede to causing a bit of pain, another dawnweaving could free the strands. Once my magic was restored, my Need could end this. Instead, the Hunger would devour our world.

Even as the thoughts circled through my mind, I felt the tug at my soul, the same sickening sensation of having my lungs yanked free of my chest. It hurt. A lot. Beneath me, my captors trembled at the sudden pain. Okay, so maybe he was trying. Unfortunately, as quickly as it had come, the pain vanished.

Trying, and failing yet again.

Can you talk to him, Tyrak? I asked. Maybe you can help him through this problem.

I tried. But I don’t have the proper bond with him. It’s different than when I spoke to the other strands through you. He’s alive. Part of the physical world. If not for sharing a connection to Zyri, you and I might not have been able to touch minds either, remember?

Yes, I remembered. But it wasn’t helpful.

Any other ideas? I asked. It seems so simple to me. He just needs to Want to free the strands.

Well, I’m not sure it is that easy. The life-channeling talent is rare. And someone who can dawnweave… almost unknown. Many people in my time claimed that dawnweaving magic was just a rumor. I’d guess it appears in someone like Paono for a reason. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t defy his honorable nature. This naturally keeps the dawnweaving from enabling someone with even a shred of malice from using the ability for evil ends.

I balled my fists, my body going rigid with frustration. But right now, his ability is the only thing that can prevent an evil end. It’s just the opposite.

Tyrak brushed ghostly hands over mine, prying at my fingers to loosen them from the hard fists. I know that. But I’m just telling you my theory. Maybe part of Paono still believes there’s another way to win, whether that’s true or not. Maybe he needs to truly despair before the alternative becomes acceptable to his overly-noble heart. Or maybe his regret over the death will make it impossible for him to use the magic again.

Then we’re doomed?

I hate to say it, but maybe.

Hearing the resignation in his voice, I thrashed again, desperate to get free of the hands that clutched me. No use. Finally, I sagged into their grasp to rest. My vision was less blurry now, but the damage from the flames had turned areas of my sight cloudy. That had been fading as the aurora-blessing mended the burns, but not fast enough. As I stared at the twinkling stars near the horizon, I wished for the chance to see them clearly one last time.

My mind was open to the aether. I knew when Mieshk finished painting the last rune when the distance screams of her captive nightstrands echoed across the boundary between domains.

The final rune. I closed my eyes. We’d failed.

The moment the screams died, the Hunger swelled, pushing at the seams. Before, it had been a pulsing, oppressive nearness. Now, the deepest blackness dropped over Ashkalan. It felt as if at any moment, the city would fold in on itself, squeezing us down until we were nothing at all. Terror filled my heart.

The end of the world had come. The space between worlds thinned. Stretched. Doom’s tendrils pulled at the fabric.

Beneath me, someone gasped. The grip on my lower legs faltered then steadied. Had Mieshk’s command faded?

Shush, Paono whispered across the aether.

I wasn’t talking, I responded. There’s nothing left to say.

Not you, Lilik. The others. I managed to shield three of them. They’re only pretending. Two are holding me, and one you. I’m trying to quiet her.

That explained the trembling grip, but it didn’t matter anymore. The gate was finished.

Lilik, look, Paono said, fear finally coloring his thought.

I turned my head one way, then the other.

My heart stuttered.

Over the harbor, the rift tore open with the sound of metal screeching over slate. Though the night on Ioene often felt impenetrable, the rent in the world was many times denser. Unfathomably dark. The crack in the world exposed pure nothingness, a bottomless, infinite pit filled with nothing but the Hunger’s desire for annihilation.

The hands on my lower leg trembled harder, as my body shuddered with matching terror. No one moved. I didn’t think anyone could move until Mieshk strode back from her completed rune, threaded between our groups, and hefted her still-unconscious bodyguard from the terrace floor.

She slung the man over her shoulder and marched back to the staircase.

“The Hollow Ones are coming,” she said. “I feel one now. It will be hungry.”

The Ulstat girl descended a flight of stairs, stopped, and waited. Shadows crawled out from corners and doorways, spilling across the city as Mieshk lifted the bodyguard above her head. When the creature crawled out of the hole in our world, an abomination formed of eyes and teeth and limbs, huge yet small, shrieking yet utterly silent, horror spilled down my spine.

My mind rebelled. My stomach heaved. The thing filled the air above Ashkalan’s docks. A shard of the void. Hungry. Mieshk threw the unconscious man, and before the body hit the ground, the creature shredded the limp form, turned the body inside out in a bloodless transformation from living to nonexistent. His soul lasted longer; I felt him enter the aether screaming and terrified only to be snared by the whip tendril of Hunger that pulled him toward the gaping maw.

The Hollow One began to devour the nightstrand, pulling him apart drop by drop, shred by shred, savoring each bite.

I jerked, startled, when Mieshk spoke.

“The rest of you wait here,” Mieshk called to the followers lining the wharf. “Be patient. Your turn will come. Don’t attempt to flee when it becomes your honor to join with the Hunger. I must journey to the fire’s core. Your bodies and souls will sate the Hollow Ones temporarily. But none shall be as tasty as the perfect sacrifice I’ve planned to welcome my new power.”

Chapter Twenty-One

SHE WANTS TO personally hand your soul to the Hunger, Paono said across our link. I feel it in her spark.

I think that’s fairly obvious, I said.

But she wants to draw it out. Make sure your spirit is tormented when it enters the aether. She plans to kill us both. More, she wants to force us to choose who dies first.

What was the point? Was this just another manifestation of her madness, or did she really believe that she could somehow influence the Hunger, wooing it with the souls of her enemies? It seemed to me that even through the veil of her insanity, she ought to be able to glimpse the truth. The Hunger had no care for human actions. It only wished to destroy.

Still held aloft by our enslaved friends, we were being carried up the mountainside. Mieshk marched ahead, melting her way through obstacles on a straight path toward the boiling cauldron inside Ioene’s crown. She couldn’t burn me alive with her own fire, not with my aurora-blessing repelling her magic. But not even the aurora could protect me from the lava inside Ioene’s summit crater.

I have an idea, Paono said. I managed to bind a few sparks on my last try. I really Wanted it, and even managed to perform the weaving despite the pain I knew it caused. But the shell around the nightstrands is too strong. When I built it, I’d joined hundreds of sparks to mine, but more importantly, I killed to build the prison. The full vitality of a living person cements the walls. The only way I can shatter them is with another fatality. And I just can’t Want that, Lilik. I tried, but I just can’t.

As our bearers marched up the glassy path created by Mieshk’s fire, I bounced in their grip. Ioene sputtered and fumed, but the smell of cinders was nearly overpowered by the heavy perfume of kivi blossoms. The night-blooming flowers spread in a massive patch on either side of our obsidian pathway. I breathed deep, memories rising in my thoughts.

The flowers had been special for Tyrak and Zyri. I remembered him weaving her a necklace of their blossoms. In the darkness of Ioene’s night, the flowers were just ghostly hints amongst the black and red leaves. But in the light of the lanterns which had illuminated the island during Vanished time, the true colors of the petals were revealed. They took their hues from the energy of their surroundings. While still attached to the kivi plant, the flowers were a dull gray. But draped as a garland around Zyri’s neck, deep blues and purples had washed through the blossoms.

I have to be the one to die first, Paono said, interrupting the memory.

I lifted my head and looked up the trail. The people bearing my friend walked ahead, setting the pace. Paono was much heavier than me, and they would have been quickly outdistanced otherwise.

I took a minute to calm my thoughts. This was just like Paono. Always the martyr. But why play into her game of making us choose?

You don’t think it will free the strands, do you? I asked. I doubt it works that way.

I don’t know what else to do, Lilik. I’ve tried everything.

Try again. The dawnweaving is the key. Force yourself to realize that we’re all dead anyway. A single life lost is infinitely better than seeing the whole world destroyed.

I know Lilik. I do. I want to make that choice. But when I attempt the weaving…

Your heart betrays you. I know. It’s hard for me, but I’m trying to understand.

It’s hard because you’re so frustrated, he said. It’s okay, Lilik. You forget that I can sense your spark. I can know what you’re feeling. Everything if I wish.

I grimaced at the reminder. I’d known he could sense my feelings—we talked about it before I left Ioene. But I’d tried to forget that detail of his life-channeling, preferring to feel as if my thoughts were mine alone.

I respect your privacy, he said. I don’t try to listen in to how you feel. It’s just that sometimes your emotions are so intense they’re impossible to ignore. I know how much I’m frustrating you. It should be so easy to let go of my regret over what I did.

But I’m just me, Lilik. The same boy who loved you from those first days when we played together at the beach. The same boy who let you go when he realized he wasn’t enough for you. You’re a shooting star. A crackling bonfire. I knew the best I could offer was a sturdy base for your flame. Whereas someone like Raav was the air that could help you blaze brighter.

I lay in my captors’ grips, stilled by his words. I’d known he cared about me, but I hadn’t realized the depth of his feelings. I loved Paono too—as a friend and cherished childhood companion. But in the last months, I’d realized that he was too stable. Too reliable. Better that I’d found Raav who could stand up to my often-fiery temper, even help me channel it. My steadfast friend would only be hurt by it again and again. I thought he’d chosen Katrikki because he didn’t want to risk the friendship he had with me by trying to change its nature, but it seemed he’d let me go for the same reason I’d pulled away.

I wondered if I’d been underestimating him. He was standing up to me in his own way right now. Standing up to the whole world and refusing to sacrifice his morals no matter who and what consequences stood against him. I had moved on, but maybe I didn’t quite understand my own reasons.

You are only telling me this because you think we’re going to die, I said.

I’m telling you this because I want you to let me die for you. I think it will work. I’m a vessel for the nightstrands’ prison. When I’m gone, they’ll be free.

No, I said abruptly. That’s now how we solve this. I have an idea, but I need to wait until Mieshk tries to make us choose.

As I spoke, I did everything I could to hold my emotions close. I couldn’t let Paono feel what I planned. Tyrak’s words had finally sparked a realization. Paono’s ability surfaced only in the noblest of people. He could never Want to kill someone to power his dawnweaving—unless he reached a point of utter despair. He needed to feel that no choice remained.

Weeks ago, Peldin, the speaker for the Vanished civilization, had spoken of Paono with awe. He’s a life channeler, Lilik, he’d said. He can heal the island.

One of us might need to die to save Ioene and our world. But it would not be Paono.

Chapter Twenty-Two

NEAR IOENE’S SUMMIT not even Mieshk could craft a straight trail. Deep cracks gouged the jagged, black stone. Steam and sulfurous vapors vented from tiny fissures and yawning pits. Lava oozed from gaps in the crater rim, folding over itself in great, bulging waves. Heat hazed the air, and the acrid smell of burning stone stung my nostrils. Our bearers stumbled over sharp rubble, rocks so fresh and raw that each edge could slice flesh.

Ahead, Mieshk halted at a gash in the earth so deep that lava glowed in its depths. She peered down as if captivated. Intoxicated by the sight of so much fire, maybe.

I thought of the Hollow One below. At least Mieshk still had emotions, no matter how crazed and vile. That thing at the harbor was entirely different. Nothing could describe the deep, aching evil it had exuded. Our human words—hunger, avarice, evil—were nothing but poor attempts to classify what the Hunger and its Hollow Ones embodied.

After a moment, Mieshk shook free of her daze and turned for the summit. A narrow rock rib thrust up from the jumbled and steaming slope. The ridge speared straight for the summit, a knife of black stone. Mieshk looked from the serrated rib to her groups of porters carrying her prizes. She seemed to be contemplating whether they could navigate the rib without dropping us or losing some of their numbers to falls.

“Let us walk,” I said.

She curled her lip at me. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

I tried to sit up to better speak to her, but the thief holding my shoulders kept me flat.

“I don’t want any of my friends to die trying to maneuver me up that climb,” I said. I meant it. Gritting my teeth, I continued, “Wrap us in your fire. Force us up if necessary.”

Behind Mieshk’s eyes of blackened stone, I sensed her thoughts working. Commanding the fire used her power. I suspected that her strength could be exhausted without a new supply of nightstrands to feed it. After a moment, she shook her head. “Carry them,” she said.

I closed my eyes to avoid looking at the drop. The ridge was too narrow for my bearers to walk even two abreast, so they formed a line and passed me up, holding me firm while those from the rear scrambled around and braced themselves to take my weight again. I didn’t resist. If anyone fell, they might knock the whole group off the ridge.

Stone clattered as fragments broke away. The rock here was brittle and sharp. When I dared peek through cracked eyelids, I saw blood slicking the hands of my captors. Burgundy handprints dirtied my tunic and trousers. But eventually, I felt my body rotated upright as a wave of heat and steam crashed over me. I opened my eyes and looked down Ioene’s throat. We stood atop a sharp spire overhanging a lake of lava many times the size of Istanik. Around the rim, other towers and pinnacles of stone looked like gargoyles defending the pit beneath. Crusts of black rock floated on the lake’s surface, joining in places, cracking in others. Gouts of flame and molten stone bubbled and sprayed from hotspots in the sea of fire.

It was strangely mesmerizing. Ever since I was a little girl, I’d felt a strange kinship with Ioene. Stories of the volcano had always captivated me, and the Nocturnai had been both a dream fulfilled and an unimaginable nightmare. But I’d never envisioned myself standing over Ioene’s fire like this. Through the cloud of ash and smoke that hung over the peak, I glimpsed the aurora. They’d worked their blessing during our climb, and my vision was nearly clear again. At least I would meet my last moments with my eyes wide open.

Mieshk was busy preening and soaking in the power of the fire. Even I could feel the raw energy. But it wasn’t fire that brought evil to the world. I understood that while staring at Ioene’s naked heart. It was greed and madness and selfishness wielded by those who hungered for power and disrupted the balance between fire and aurora in their quest. A rift had opened before, bringing about the cataclysm that destroyed the Vanished civilization. I couldn’t say how I knew it, only that it was true. And somewhere amongst the nightstrands, someone knew how the breach had been sealed. Paono would find out the truth. He’d lead the others through whatever steps were necessary to close the gate and force the Hunger from our world.

Peldin had foreseen the truth long ago. Paono would heal the island.

Still enthralled by Mieshk’s command, my friends and allies stood back in a semicircle, ready to stop any attempts at escape. I searched their eyes, wondering who had been shielded from the compulsion by Paono’s channeling. I imagined I glimpsed the light of free will in a thief’s eyes. But I couldn’t be sure. With my gaze roving over the whole group, Paono included, I swallowed.

“You can still go back from this,” I said to Mieshk. “We can figure out how close the rift together.”

I didn’t expect anything out of her, but I had to try.

Mieshk simply snarled. “Fool gutterborn. So weak she can’t even understand the power in what I’ve done.”

“Last chance,” I said.

Her lips drew back. “Or what? You stab me again?” She laughed.

I shrugged. “Tell Raav I didn’t see any other way,” I said as I started to turn. As my gaze passed over Paono, I saw realization strike him.

“What?” Paono snapped. “No!”

He wasn’t fast enough. Whirling, I sprinted the final distance to the brink. At the last moment, I yanked Tyrak from his sheath and threw him over the heads of the group. Distantly, I heard metal ping off stone as he tumbled down the slope. Someday, someone would find him again. Maybe even reunite him with his beloved Zyri.

With a quick inhalation, I whirled, teetered on the crater rim. Dug my toe against sharp rock and pushed off into open air. Arms wide, I dove for the burning lake. Time stretched out as I fell, wind scouring my face. I spun, lazily flipping head over heels. Sky and fire, sky and fire. In the instant before I impacted the molten stone, I saw Paono silhouetted against the aurora. Three figures—the few he’d shielded from Mieshk’s command—held him back from the drop, preventing him from following me to my death.

Peace flooded my heart as I fell into the lava. To the deepest core of my soul, I knew I’d chosen the one act that would allow us to win. Paono would despair. He’d failed to protect the girl he’d always loved. Finally, he would truly Want to destroy Mieshk forever. No matter what.

Molten stone closed over me. Excruciating heat. Fire poured down my throat.

I felt nothing else.

Chapter Twenty-Three

LIGHT, CRYSTALLINE, ENTERED my eyes.

Glints.

Shards.

An infinite glimmerscape stretching in all directions. A white-gold sky arched overhead.

I looked down.

My body was a lacework sculpture, spun of sugar and salt and glowing from within.

This wasn’t right. I remembered the aether and how my body had appeared. I’d projected an image of the gutterborn girl from Istanik, ragged clothing tattered at the hems. And there’d been others, their spirits likewise manifesting as shades of their former physical existence.

The nightstrands were imprisoned. Had I somehow been sucked into Paono’s crystalline shell?

I turned at the sound of water lapping. To my left, a quicksilver sea kissed the crystal shores. Pearls rolled at the tide line. As I stood, bewildered, the colors of the landscape shifted from iridescent white to the welcoming tones of chocolate and through the many moods of the sea I’d loved to watch on Istanik. Deep azure beneath a creamy sun. Steel-gray as wind and rain lashed the surface.

And back to white.

“Hello?” I called.

My voice spilled across the landscape, setting the crystals in the sand shivering.

No response.

I turned for the sea, my light-spun body shedding salt as I moved only to collect grains of sand that rolled up my shape to replace what was lost. I crouched beside the silvery water and dipped in a finger.

Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to dive into that silver sea. Two quick steps, and I leaped, my body soaring in a graceful arc before plunging into the water. It was neither warm nor cold nor any temperature at all. Surfacing, I began to tread water. A current rose from the deep, pulling me away from shore. Faster and faster, and as the land faded from sight, I glimpsed other figures.

Like me, they glowed, colors shifting and shimmering over the surface of their flesh. Yet these were not whole. Not like me. How did I know that?

I blinked, dove beneath the surface again, and peered through the wavering silver liquid. Glowing threads trailed behind the others, leading to distant places.

To distant sparks.

I gasped, inhaling the flowing silver. But rather than making me cough and sputter, it filled me with tranquility. I swam for the surface and found myself pulled toward a central pillar, an obelisk containing all the colors in the world.

When I touched the nexus, I knew. The sensation was the same as feeling him over our link.

“Paono?” I said.

Shock rippled through the air.

Lilik! His thought boomed across the sea. You’re alive!

“I—Paono, I don’t know where I am. Or what I am.”

More lights drifted toward the pillar. Toward Paono. Confusion over my answer haloed the obelisk, a swirl of aquamarine fog. The lights drew closer, vitality radiating off them.

“Is this a dawnweaving?” I asked. It seemed to fit. Paono was calling energy from living sparks, and the threads that streamed behind them kept the fragments from being severed from the bodies.

I dove beneath the surface and twirled, looking for my own thread. But there was nothing.

Yes, he said. I didn’t know what else to do. I had to save you. I Wanted to save you. And you’re here.

Hesitation colored his final thought, a wave of blue-gray trepidation spilling over the water.

But I saw the lava pull you down… he added.

I ran my hands over my body then pressed. My fingers dove into the light as if I had no substance at all.

I was dead. I’d felt the lava take me inside it. The flash of pain had been so quick I’d hardly noticed it. But my body had burned. All that remained was my spirit.

I’d expected to wake in the aether. But this was different.

“Paono, can you feel my spirit? Can you sense which spark is mine?”

A gentle tide washed from the pillar, probing. Abruptly, the water hardened, turning to stone.

I… Oh tides. Lilik, I pulled too hard. I took too much. It’s like before.

“What do you mean? What is it, Paono?”

I killed you.

The stone collapsed, returning to water. But now, the sea roiled. Waves lashed the surface, throwing anguish-colored spray across the landscape.

“Wait, Paono. No! The lava killed me. Not you!” I could scarcely hear my voice over the crash and spume of Paono’s despair. But I knew he could hear me.

Lies! I have your entire spark. It’s joining my weave. I did this to you.

Water thick with self-loathing slapped against my face. Paono’s grief poured down my throat. I understood now. This world lived within Paono’s mind. It was the foundation for his ability. Beautiful and boundless, and now as full of despair as deep as the Hunger was fathomless.

But if I was here, a complete living spark, did that mean I was alive? Dead, but simply waylaid on my journey to the aether?

“Stop!” I screamed. “Stop, Paono!”

I didn’t know what else to do, so I swam for his pillar. Waves threw me against the sides of the obelisk then sucked me away only to pound me against its hardness again. But I persisted, and finally, I caught hold of a corner of the obelisk. I closed my eyes, visualizing my bond with my friend. I had no body. I had no bounds. Focusing all my will on believing I was immaterial, that this sea and sky were nothing but illusions, I slipped inside Paono’s mind.

Look out! I screamed.

Paono’s skin was alive with the power flowing into his body from the gathering sparks. Colors shone brighter and the crunch of feet on stone grated in his ears as our friends—Mieshk’s slaves—advanced.

The three people he’d shielded from Mieshk’s compulsion were warm presences against his mind. He’d maintained the links, but his concentration was wavering. For now, his trio of defenders, a male smuggler wearing spiked leather gloves, Captain Altak’s navigator, a slight woman who looked as if she had little experience fighting, and an oarsman with muscles to make up for his lack of a blade, formed a wall between my friend and the advancing attackers.

Every person on the precipice stood with a slight hunch in their back, pain tightening the skin around their eyes. The dawnweaving was hurting them. I remembered the sick feeling, the sensation that my organs were being removed through my throat. I was surprised they could even stand upright. Maybe Paono just hadn’t drawn much from them yet.

I looked out from Paono’s eyes and sensed the emotions coursing through him, but I couldn’t influence his body. As the first attacker sprang, only to be knocked back by a swipe of the oarsman’s massive fist, I realized that this might be the last time I sensed the world through a human form. My body was gone, yet I hadn’t entered the aether. When Paono released the dawnweaving, I might simply cease to exist.

But I couldn’t think about that now.

Tell me you’re alive, Lilik. I know it’s not true, but maybe if you say it… You were always so strong. If anyone could bend the world, reshape reality to suit her vision, it’s you.

As Paono cast the thought inward, he stood with hands limp at his side. Another attacker sidled forward, eyes darting in search of an opening in the smuggler’s defensive crouch. The attacker flinched and stepped back when the smuggler aimed a quick jab at the air before his face.

Mieshk shrieked. “Kill him, you idiots!”

Faces grimacing in pain, the crowd shifted forward again. Their movements were reluctant as if Paono’s draw had weakened Mieshk’s hold. But we wouldn’t last long even under a subdued attack, not with Paono standing here, defeated.

With a snarl of annoyance at her slaves, Mieshk tramped forward, shoving aside a sailor who stumbled, went down, and nearly fell off the rock rib.

Snap out of it, Paono! I yelled.

Mieshk stepped closer, her heat washing over us to join the warmth radiating from Ioene. The smuggler defending Paono stood before the Ulstat heir, fists raised yet trembling.

Don’t make him die for you, I yelled.

With a roar, Paono gathered his grief, packed it so tight inside his heart that it became a hard knot of rage.

“Step aside. I’ll take care of her,” he said in a low growl. As he spoke, Paono drew deeper from the energy of the sparks. Even Mieshk winced. As tainted and twisted as it was, her soul was still part of the living. Her own energy would aid in her defeat. I wanted nothing more than to leap forth and wrap my hands around Mieshk’s throat. Instead, I shoved every drop of determination and resolve across the link that bound me to Paono. He nodded as my emotions flooded him.

We’ve got this, Lilik. Together.

As Paono advanced on her, Mieshk screamed and raised her arms, the hands of flame erupting once again. She reached for Paono. Like it had been with me, her flame couldn’t contact his flesh. But the power in her fire wrapped him, binding his hands to his side. His flesh bubbled, blisters bursting. Paono accepted the pain, wrapped it up and forced it into the blazing rage at his core.

With a sudden snap as if a coin had been spinning and spinning until finally landing face up, Paono’s dawnweaving crashed into place. From inside the weave as well as inside Paono’s mind, I felt the sudden surge of his Want.

I expected his magic to throw off Mieshk’s hands, to fall over her in a crushing wave, to inundate her lungs and drown her right before us. But Paono didn’t Want that. No matter his anger or grief or regret, in his heart, Paono remained true. His calling was mercy. As I stared, shocked, through his eyes, the shimmering cloud that surrounded him lifted free. The glimmering motes passed through the fire and fell like a gentle rain atop Mieshk’s blazing form. Where every speck landed, fire fizzled. Wisps of steam drifted off her body as she fought the cleansing fog. The flaming hands vanished as the aurora snuffed her blaze. Paono’s hands were outstretched, palms forward. As the aurora left him, his skin lost the inner glow, returning him to the boy I’d grown up with.

Within the space of moments, the last of the aurora fled Paono to quench Mieshk’s power. The remnants of her fire sputtered and died.

Mieshk fell to her knees, a wretched thing. No longer charred and cracked, her skin returned to the tan hues of the islands. She ran clawed hands over her bare scalp, plunged fists into eyes slowly returning to ordinary human orbs.

A shattering sensation filled Paono’s mind as the raw energy in his dawnweaving pierced the shell containing the nightstrands. At once, the souls burst from their prison, shouting in a clamor of exultation. The deluge of spirits raced through Paono’s mind, forcing me to shut down my senses lest I lose my identity in their torrent.

The Vanished were free at last. Paono had claimed he needed to kill someone for his dawnweaving to undo the prison he had built. It had never occurred to me that I might be the soul that was lost. Deep in Paono’s mind, I felt hints that he was coming to the same realization. But he wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. He still held hope that I wasn’t gone.

At the edge of the spire, where the rock rib gave passage to Ioene’s slopes, the people Mieshk had enthralled gagged and coughed and fell to their knees as her commands drained away.

Caffari shoved aside those in front of her and stamped toward Mieshk, pulling a dagger from her belt.

“Caffari. She can’t hurt us anymore,” Paono said softly. “She was born to madness. Isn’t that suffering enough?”

In response, Mieshk laughed. “Mercy, he claims. Gentleness. He believes these acts make him better. Different. But what mercy is it to leave me powerless? The Hollow Ones seek strength. They will only follow someone who commands the fire. Like this, I’m nothing but a wretch. Food for their master.”

“The Hunger cares nothing for who or what you are,” Paono said. “You’ve opened the way for the end of civilization. Yet still, I choose to forgive you.”

He stepped forward and offered a hand to help her up, but Mieshk turned hate-filled eyes on him. She spat, narrowly missing his hand.

With a shrug, Caffari grabbed Mieshk under the armpit. She dragged the girl to her feet and laid her blade against Mieshk’s scrawny throat.

Mieshk sneered. “Do it. Please.”

In disgust, Caffari clucked her tongue and shoved Mieshk backward. Following the motion, the bandit queen doubled over, still feeling the pain of the dawnweaving.

The rift, I said into Paono’s thoughts. None of this matters if it remains open. You need to seal it while you have the power.

Swallowing, he nodded. I felt him focus his inner awareness on Ashkalan and the harbor. As he did, the Hunger surged forward, drawn by his interest. The Hollow One was still there, devouring souls. A dark stain on the world. Paono’s perception of the aether was far weaker than mine had been. But still, through his awareness, I felt a spirit scream as it first entered the aether, then began to be flayed, bit by bit.

I didn’t understand why Mieshk’s former followers hadn’t fled. We’d long since moved more than a thousand paces from Ashkalan, and now her power was neutralized. Maybe terror bound them. Or maybe the Hunger held them close.

Another scream, echoing across the aether. Another death and dismemberment of the spirit that had filled the body.

Inhaling deeply, Paono formed his desire. He Wanted nothing more than to close the awful rift between our realm and the Hunger beneath. Every speck of his beginning pleaded for it.

I felt the weave, perceived it clearly for the first time. Two hundred sparks, everyone on the island. All joined together in Paono’s desire.

His Want pushed against the void, enveloping it. But rather than shying away, the Hollow One snarled and opened itself wide. It began to suck.

I was falling. Beside me, other lights tumbled toward the pit.

No! someone screamed. Maybe it had been me.

An instant later, Paono released the weave. He’d felt it. His magic was nothing compared to the pull of the Hunger. By attempting to seal the rift, he’d nearly fed it our spirits.

Suddenly, I was vanishing. Before, Paono’s weave had held me close, giving me substance. But it was gone. My light waned, fading from the world. But at the last instant, Paono leaped for me, grabbing hold. The silvery thread that bound us stretched. Thinned. And finally, he began to pull me back. As my awareness retreated up the hill, dragged by Paono’s link, I caught a last glimpse of the harbor. The last sparks were gone from the wharf. Devoured.

The Hollow One stirred. It’s inky, oily presence rose from the harbor and began to move. Horror struck me as another monster began to crawl from the gaping hole in the world.

Panic flooded my spirit; I knew where the beast and its brethren would go next.

Not far from Ashkalan, ships were anchored off Ioene’s coast. No one aboard knew what was coming.

Paono held me close, cradling me with his mind. Though the other people atop the spire moved around us, peering over the crater’s rim and murmuring in low tones about the Hunger, he noticed no one but me. Tears slipped down his cheeks.

You’re really dead, he said.

Yes, I think so.

He pressed his lips together to contain a sob. I can’t let you go, then. I’ll keep your spark here. With me.

Under other circumstances, I might have considered it. I could live within him. We’d always been close, and I wouldn’t have to give up my connection to life. But my time was over. Right now, Paono needed to get to the ships and warn them. Maybe with help, he could still find a way to stop this.

Plus, deep inside, I had a notion that fate had another plan for me. There was no certainty when he released me. But I could hope I’d move on to the next realm. At least there, I might be able to make a difference. Here, I was nothing but a passenger in Paono’s mind.

I can’t stay, Paono. I need to enter the aether.

He clamped down on my spirit, holding me closer. But after a moment, cold acceptance flooded him.

The runes, he said. Maybe I can erase them.

Maybe. But they’re nightforged.

I know. But I don’t know what else to do.

He started stumbling for the rock rib and the rest of the descent. Slowly, he began to release his grip on me.

Wait, Paono. Send the others to the ships, then. Someone needs to warn them.

As if shocked that the rest of the group still remained, he turned. He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes; his grief over my loss was too private. As he drew breath to speak, a sudden movement by Mieshk stopped him short. She’d been slumped at the edge of the group. No longer important. Defeated.

With a growl, she stood, face livid.

“You’ll never defeat what comes,” she said, snarling. “At least I’ve done that much. There’s no earthly power that can overcome it. I said I would control it, but those were just the whispers. Seductive. They knew what I wanted. But now I see the lies. The moment you ruined me, the Hunger turned away. Its shards will feed on everyone here. The gate will open wider and wider until all life is gone from our world.”

Paono drew himself up, momentarily armoring his soul against the grief that tore at it. “I don’t accept that, Mieshk. I will always keep trying, just like Lilik would have. There is always hope.”

As if hurt by his words, Mieshk flinched. And maybe she was. Maybe she’d always hated me because I represented something she could never have. I believed in myself. I accepted no limitations. But her reaction quickly faded. After a moment, her lips peeled back from teeth that were once again white.

“You’re wrong. Just like you were wrong about your friend Lilik. She wasn’t strong enough to face me, and she chose death instead.”

Paono began to tremble. The anger in his core burned white-hot. His fists clenched as if he were imagining pummeling her then shoving her off the drop and into the lava below. But with a slow inhalation, he turned and started down the slope, leaving her behind.

I need to go, too, Paono, I said quietly.

I guess I’ll never feel ready to lose you.

Probably not. But I’m not meant to be here. In between. No one is. As I said the words, I felt the rightness of them. Just like I’d sensed the nature of the fire and aurora. Everything has a balance. All souls go to the aether. These were the rules.

And if breaking the rules and shattering the balance had opened the rift, perhaps my choice to follow the rules could close it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

UNTIL I ENTERED the aether, I hadn’t really, truly believed I was dead. But I knew it when the vast landscape of souls opened all around me. I knew my body was gone because I had no sense of confusion like I’d experienced on Araok Island. Then, a fragment of my spirit had remained in my dying body, preventing me from being whole within the aether. But not now. Now all of me had passed beyond the veil. All of me that remained, anyway.

I took a moment to collect myself. I could grieve for my life later—if we managed to close the rift. Right now I had my duty.

After putting back the pieces of my scattered resolve, I focused on my surroundings. Ioene’s aether opened in all directions, unbounded. I felt the celestial humming of the aurora and the compelling vitality of the fire, two forces calling to my soul. I understood now why so many strands struggled against the pull of the fire. It promised excitement, the rush of riding a horse at full gallop. I felt as if I could dive in and reclaim the heart-pounding sensation of the first time Raav pressed his lips to mine.

Raav. Oh, tides. For all my talk of coming back to him, I’d left him alone. A broken promise.

I swiped away the thought. The time for regrets would come later.

In the sky above me, the rift was a black gash, ragged at the edges and growing by the minute. A fissure in both the physicality and the aether. Nothing mattered unless someone—Paono? Me?—could seal that gate.

Paono’s dawnweaving hadn’t been strong enough to resist the Hunger’s pull. But within the aether, thousands of souls would respond to my Need. It might be enough.

I opened my awareness wider, reaching for the nightstrands of the Vanished. As if surfacing through shimmering water, they appeared before me, a sea of strangers. Many had no faces and were nothing but vague suggestions of human forms. The most distant ancestors, maybe. The images projected in the aether were manifestations of a soul’s inner identity. Those who’d died many thousands of years ago had likely lost much of their connection to the people they’d been in life.

I didn’t want to look down at my body. I didn’t want to know whether I still saw myself as a ragged gutterborn waif from Istanik.

Instead, I ran my gaze over the crowd. Closest to me, the faces were still sharp, the clothing detailed. A man stepped forward, middle-aged but still handsome. He wore a tunic with embroidered thread that shifted colors as he moved. His eyes were a bright hazel, almost gold. I recognized him immediately through the aura he projected.

“Hello, Peldin.” When I’d first learned to channel the thoughts and emotions of the nightstrands, the clamor in my head had been too loud. Too much to handle. Peldin had been nominated as the single spokesman for their civilization. We’d had our disagreements, but it seemed right that he be the first to greet me.

“I can’t say I’m glad to see you here,” he said. His gaze flicked to the rent in the sky. Tendrils of oily smoke were pouring through. The second Hollow One had nearly emerged.

I scanned the horizon, and panic struck me. But I saw the sparks aboard the ships, a twinkling constellation of living souls. A shifting black horror flowed across the aether, speeding toward them. The Hollow One would devour them.

“We don’t have time to talk,” I said. “Give me your hand.”

As I had on Araok Island, I reached for the nearest strands, imagining that I clasped hands with each spirit then bound them to my heart. One after the other, I gathered the Vanished. As I did, snippets of their lives and emotions flashed through my mind. There were so many. Thousands more than had inhabited Leesa Ulstat’s domain.

“A duskweaving! Where did you learn it?” Peldin asked. “And here I thought you were helpless without me.”

I paused long enough to roll my eyes. I’d forgotten how insufferable he could be.

When I reached again into the crowd, taking another hand in mine, I gasped. I knew the person almost as well as I knew myself.

As Zyri stepped forward, I stood frozen. She was about my height, but with lighter hair that fell nearly to her waist. When she smiled, two small dimples dented her cheeks. I never had a sister. But looking into her eyes, I felt as if she were the twin I’d never known.

“I found Tyrak,” I whispered. Of course, I’d recently thrown him away somewhere near Ioene’s jagged summit. For all I knew, he was lost forever.

Zyri pressed her lips together, and her eyes glistened as tears welled. She nodded.

“I promised him I’d try to find a way for you to be together. If we survive—I mean, if we still exist after this, I’ll make the same promise to you.”

There was so much I wanted to tell her. I felt like we’d lived our whole lives together—and we had, even if only in our memories. Instead, I latched her to my heart and reached into the aether again.

Soul after soul joined my duskweaving. Power shimmered around me, a bright star to rival the dark gash in the sky.

But when I next looked, the Hollow One had nearly closed the distance with the sparks.

A small group of sparks stood between the shadow and the main group on the ships. Abruptly, the cluster flared an intense red haloed in black. I remembered that color. Panic. Rot.

I scooped as many souls as I could into my arms. No time for gentleness. Squeezing them to me, I fell deeper into the thrumming, sizzling power that surrounded me.

I’d worked magic before. Now, I was magic.

Every drop and speck and fiber of my soul blazed with potential. Before, I’d been a mote of dust floating on the ocean of power. Now I was that ocean.

My futures were countless.

My Need was boundless.

Fortune was a tornado around me, every possibility a whirlwind inside the massive, wheeling gyre. I dipped my hand in and felt each of my paths rush through my flesh. Not only the futures but the pasts, too. Flashes of lives I might have lived. Glimpses where I inhabited the aether. Visions of restoring Ashkalan with Raav at my side. Things that could have been. Futures I would never know.

Somehow, I sensed that if I could capture one of those whirling alternatives, I could sidestep this life, make myself anew. I wouldn’t need to have died. But by leaving, I’d be abandoning this incarnation of my world to the Hunger. Everyone and everything would be annihilated, subsumed by the ravenous ache beyond that gash.

For an instant, I still considered it. In my new existence, I wouldn’t remember where I’d come from. Who I’d sacrificed to remake my life. But I couldn’t do it.

Only my Need could choose the right path now.

Closing my eyes, I gave myself to fate.

Light flashed behind my eyes.

I smelled kivi blossoms.

Not far away, waves crashed on gravel, hissing as they rolled back to the sea.

When I opened my eyes, the sky was an upside down bowl lined with stars, filled with billowing ash and shimmering aurora. A sharp stone jabbed my shoulder blade. Gravel pressed into the backs of my arms. The ground beneath me was warmer than the damp air above. Each of my senses felt many times stronger than I remembered. Or rather, each smell on the air and tick of cooling stone and shimmer of heavenly aurora felt more vivid than ever before. More alive.

I shifted, wincing as the sharp rock under my shoulder blade scratched the thin flesh covering my bone. Grunting, I struggled to a seated position. I pulled my feet closer, then blinked. Why was I wearing ratty sandals?

My eyes traveled up my body. Ill-fitting trousers. A tunic with mismatched buttons. Patches were sewn over holes on the knees and elbows of my ragged attire.

I was wearing the clothes my mind stubbornly supplied for my astral projection within the aether. My duskweaving… had it… Was I back in the physical world?

I lifted my hand in front of my face and examined both sides. My scars were gone. Curling all my fingers but one, so that only my index finger remained extended, I pressed it against my thigh.

My finger sank through flesh as if my leg weren’t there at all.

I sprang to my feet, stomping to reassure myself that the ground beneath me was solid.

“Ow!” I cried when a dagger of hardened lava sliced my instep. Blood flowed from the wound, black in the night. But when I tried to wrap my hand around my foot, my fingers just passed straight through it.

I raised my foot and stepped forward, and the ground beneath me sped by. Brush scraped my legs as I traveled a hundred paces in a single step. The scratches stung. Threads pulled free from my trousers, leaving them even more tattered than before.

Abruptly, I felt an irresistible desire to run. I couldn’t have remained still if the air before me were filled with crystal knives. Which wasn’t far from the truth with brush and boulders standing in my way. As my strides sped over the landscape and gashes and cuts multiplied on my legs, all I could do was veer for the beach where fewer obstacles blocked my way.

I didn’t know my destination until I arrived. By the time I reached the ships, each of my shins was a shredded mess.

I forgot the pain as the first screams reached my ears.

Another step brought me to the arc of gravel cradling the shallow anchorage. The Hollow One stood upon the surface of the sea, an aching, screeching pit filled with nothing but greed and evil. The crew of both our ships—and the Ulstat vessels, too—were desperately trying to raise their sails and extend their oars.

As I arrived, the monster tore one of Caffari’s smugglers from the crow’s nest. Midair, the thief’s body frayed and disappeared. My scream pealed across the water as I threw down my mental walls. I grabbed for her nightstrand, seizing hold just as the Hollow One dug raking claws into her spirit.

We fought for control of her soul.

I wasn’t going to win. It would only tear her apart.

The aurora, I screamed at her. It’s your only hope.

I felt her assent an instant before a flash lit the water and sent rippling waves of phosphorescence across the small bay. She’d managed to choose dissolution before the beast consumed her. Deprived of its prize, the Hollow One shrieked and turned on me.

Immediately, I felt it sucking at me. Tentacles whipped out from the mass of darkness and tried to catch hold. I smelled rot and oil and fear as they passed through my body. The inside of my mouth tasted like rust. Bone-deep dread ached where each of the beast’s arms crossed my flesh.

But it couldn’t take hold. My perception of gravel beneath my feet and air on my skin was an illusion supplied by my duskweaving. I wasn’t a creature of this world. Physical but ethereal, alive but dead, I was something Other.

The Hollow One screeched in rage, the vibrations tearing wavelets from the water’s surface.

And from across the island, another monster answered. The second birth had completed.

The beast moved closer to me, clawing at my mind where it had failed to rend my flesh. Immediately, I threw my walls into place. They monster tore them aside as if they were paper. As if to punish me for interfering, it whipped a tendril of darkness across the forward deck on Zyri’s Promise. At the end of the tendril, a razor-tipped spike sliced through upper planks of the hull before whipping back and severing a sailor’s arm. The man screamed in horror, and the rush of fear only gave the Hollow One strength.

The monster grabbed the sailor and with a thousand teeth, tore his body apart. Again, I reached into the aether. But I was too late. The monster didn’t stop to toy with the man’s spirit. Before I could latch hold of his soul, the Hunger swallowed him. When I peered into the Hollow One’s eyes, transient things that appeared and disappeared within the roiling mass above the bay, I saw the black truth. Somewhere on the other side of the gash between worlds, the Hunger got stronger and deeper with the addition of the man’s soul.

“What do I do now?” I asked aloud. I didn’t know who I expected to answer, only that I had no notion how to move forward. My Need had put me here. In the back of my awareness, I still felt the power thrumming from the vast tapestry I’d created from the Vanished nightstrands. My duskweaving wasn’t finished, yet I’d already put myself at the whim of chance. Before, that was all I’d needed to do for the duskweaving to complete its work.

“Lilik?”

Raav’s voice rang across the bay as he and a small group of people stumbled from the brush at the edge of the beach. They must have just returned from Mieshk’s fortress. I noticed Raav was limping. Had he been the one injured in the attack?

A thousand thoughts tumbled through my head, but each was silenced when the Hollow One turned its baleful glare on Raav. Another tentacle erupted from the black mass and reached for my beloved.

“No!” I yelled as, in one long stride, I crossed the beach and put myself between Raav and the Hollow One.

Cries of shock peppered the air, both from Raav’s group and the decks of the ships. A distant part of my awareness, maybe a vestigial link with Paono, sensed confusion and even fear from the sparks of the living.

Fear of me, I realized.

Let them be afraid. Because I was about to become something that should be feared. I understood now what my Need demanded. I also understood that I wouldn’t have had the courage for this act without seeing Raav threatened.

For every sacrifice, there is someone burdened with the guilt of benefiting from it. Raav would carry that weight forever. But he wouldn’t be consumed by the Hunger. I took comfort in that.

As the Hollow One’s grasping tentacle bore down on the group behind me, I opened my mind to the creature’s terrifying grasp. Blackness sank into my thoughts, spreading like ink dropped into water. As it took hold of my spirit, I tasted the all-consuming greed, the bottomless hunger, the foul weight of its desire.

Evil filled me, polluting every crevice of my soul as I swallowed the Hollow One.

Behind me, someone retched. I didn’t turn. Not yet. The writhing mass atop the water slowly faded as the fragment of the Hunger flowed into me. Finally, with a snap, the Hollow One vanished.

I was the Hollow One.

Brimming with the twined power of the Hunger’s raw, covetous craving and my surging duskweaving, I turned to face the young man I’d once loved. He cowered on the gravel before me, retching again.

I stepped closer. It would be so easy to devour him. The others, too. I wanted their flesh. But even more, I wanted their souls. Already I could taste how they’d feel when joined with the pit inside my soul. Satisfying for a moment, but ultimately powering my insatiable need for more.

Another step. The others scrambled back, eyes mad with terror. But not Raav. On hands and knees, he trembled before me.

When I spoke, my voice rasped like a blade over a whetstone. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Afraid to look at me?”

I wanted his fear. It would make me stronger.

He shook his head, eyes on the gravel. “I know it’s not you,” he said.

“But it is. I’m the girl you kissed on the beach just outside our lagoon. I’m the girl you saved in the refinery in Ilaraok. And I’m also the Hunger.”

Raav’s trembling had stilled. His chest expanded as he inhaled, and finally, he sat back on his heels and looked up at me.

Suddenly curious about what he saw, I glanced down at myself. But I was gone. Where my body had been, there was only void. I was an empty, girl-shaped shell. Still, Raav fixed his gaze where my eyes would have been.

“You’re in there, Lilik,” he said quietly. “I know it because otherwise, you would have killed me by now.”

Was I? I shook my head. I was the Hunger, come to eat this world.

Raav climbed to his feet. Looking down on me, he stepped closer. He reached out a hand. When he laid it on my shoulder, I felt the pain it caused him. My substance tore at his flesh. He winced but forced himself to smile.

To smile at me.

Somewhere, shrouded in evil and slowly being eaten by the darkness within me, a tiny piece of my soul smiled back.

I raised my arms anyway. Giant wings of shadow unfurled behind me, stretching wide. Raav’s cheek twitched, and I could see his pulse racing, throbbing in his neck. But he didn’t back away.

“Fight it, Lilik.” As he spoke, Raav doubled over his belly. Behind him, the others grunted, moaned, curled fetally. In a distant past, I remembered a similar experience, the sudden pain that had felt as if my heart and lungs were being torn free. But the recollection fled as the anguish on Raav’s face made me crave him all the more. I wanted his flesh and soul. I reached for it, my wing coming around to wrap him.

Across the island, something shrieked. My brother, the newborn Hollow One, crying in pain. In the following instant, a dagger stabbed my back, icy and full of love. A tearing sensation followed, and I was immediately distanced from the source of my power.

Something was wrong with the gate. With a swipe of my wing that sent Raav and the others flying, I whirled.

I heard bones break as they landed. I didn’t care. I had to help my brother and the Hunger that was mother to us all.

Chapter Twenty-Five

THE SOUND OF his bones breaking echoed in my mind. Raav’s words scratched at the dark prison holding—no, not holding, infusing—my soul.

I was my own prison.

Fight it, he’d said.

The land whipped past me as I half-ran, half-flew on wings of hate. Ashkalan loomed ahead and within it, the doorway bridging my worlds. My brother screamed again, the sound of his shriek raising waves from the sea and sending rocks tumbling from the mountaintop. Again, I felt the distance between my mother and me grow wider even as I sped for the breach.

I crested the rim of the city, perched there with talons of shadow and teeth ready to shred any who would stop me.

Beneath me, on the central steps that climbed from Ashkalan’s harbor to the city’s topmost tier, a cage held my brother prisoner. Formed of shimmering blue light, the bars crisscrossed haphazardly. A net as much as a cage. But inescapable all the same.

I was rage embodied. Howling, I leaped high over the city, then arrowed straight for Ashkalan’s heart. When I crashed down, stone shattered. The cage stood before me, and I reached for it, ready to tear my brother free.

The shot went straight through my core. An arrow as icy and kind as the dagger that had stabbed me before. It knocked me back. I fell, smashing a wing that dissolved beneath me. Frantic, I scanned the city walls for a glimpse of my attacker.

My heart knew who I’d see long before my hate-filled eyes landed on Paono.

Like a being filled with starlight, silvery threads arrowing away and binding him to the sparks that I knew were powering this loathsome assault, he stared down at me with a mix of terror and love. He stood on the terrace above me, near one of the runes that had opened the way for my power.

“Lilik,” he breathed. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Fight it, Lilik, Raav had said.

I scrambled to my feet, both wings gone now. An image of the Hollow One flashed through my tainted thoughts. I saw again the tentacles that had emerged from its shapeless mass. Eyes that looked out from all angles. I glanced again at my body. My human-shaped void. It was no shapeless mass, no writhing embodiment of Hunger.

Evil suffused me. But I was still Lilik Boket, too.

“Help me,” I rasped, turning my void-filled eyes to Paono.

He nodded, and the silvery threads that shot away from him brightened as more energy surged along the links. This time, his love was not a dagger or an arrow, but a sensation like the gentle brush of his hand against my tainted cheek.

Paono’s magic reached through my flesh. His phantasmal fingers teased at the stain that had saturated my spirit.

From within the gash between worlds, the Hunger surged, filling my soul, throwing off Paono’s touch. I scrambled forward. Claws erupted from my hands and feet. Digging them into the stone of the terrace wall, I scuttled straight up to the next level.

Paono cried out in fear when I leaped for him, claws extended, teeth snapping from within the myriad mouths that had opened in my soul.

Fight it Lilik. The sound of Raav’s bones breaking.

I hesitated, the sick snapping sounds echoing through my memories. Paono was so fragile. All humans were. One swipe, and there would be more snaps.

Fight it Lilik.

With a scream, I forced away the Hunger, sent it fleeing for the corners of my spirit. My claws became mist then faded to nothing. The rage which boiled through my veins washed out onto the floor beneath me. All the hatred that had made my body solid dissipated, and I passed through Paono like the ghost of a gutterborn waif.

For an instant, our minds touched. I saw through his memories what he’d been doing. Paono had used a dawnweaving to surprise and trap the other Hollow One before it could suck his power inside.

And I saw our potential. A way to close the rift.

Paono’s shirt was off. He’d been trying to use it to scrub away the rune. His efforts had weakened the gate, but he could never seal the breach. Mieshk had infused nightstrands into the symbols. She’d nightforged the rune. In all of Vanished history, no one had ever figured out how to forcibly free a soul once it was bound to an object.

Except that wasn’t entirely true. I understood now; someone had sealed the breach before, and most likely, they’d broken a nightforging to accomplish it. Afterward, that person had hidden their knowledge, locked it away in a secret lagoon on a glowing mural. At first, only a single figure had been depicted in the painting. There’d been a time when events might have worked out differently. It might have been enough for me to shield the strands from Mieshk. But now, two figures stood before Ioene. Mieshk had opened the rift, only Paono’s and my joint magic could close it.

My duskweaving together with Paono’s dawnweaving, my Need superimposed on his Want, and together we could close the gate.

The Hunger fluttered at the edges of my vision like a stain that threatened to spill across my sight if I lost focus on holding it back. Shadows worked in my heart. Rage was a pinprick away from consuming me. But Paono’s presence strengthened my resolve. We couldn’t touch, or rather, whenever I tried to touch him, I passed right through him. But I felt his warmth all the same.

Okay, he said into my mind. I’m ready. Between the layers of taint that still blanketed my spirit yet lacked the strength to control me, I still felt the energy of my duskweaving. I Needed to close the gate. Paono Wanted to heal the breach. Somehow, we must intertwine our magics.

Peldin? I asked, not really expecting an answer. Then again, I hadn’t really expected to be shoved back into the physical world either.

Oh, so now you want my help, he said.

I rolled my eyes as I spoke into the aether. Yes, Peldin, I would like your help. Please consider gracing me with your wisdom.

He chuckled. I would’ve thought my mural would be enough.

What? That was you? I struggled to grasp this new information.

It was me, he said, serious now. Well, not just me, and not just my Need. There were many gifted with soul magic in my time. We worked together at the end. Many of our insights into how to seal the rift came from Mavek, in fact. It’s a shame she succumbed to the fire’s pull.

Go back to the mural. You’re saying you knew all along that Paono and I would end up like this? I said.

Of course not, he returned. You understand that I’m a channeler, right?

I gathered. You could have mentioned it before, though. Might have made my life a little easier.

He chuckled. Indeed. And I’m sorry. My reasons were… complicated. In any case, you have experience with duskweaving now. You know as well as I that we don’t control our Need, no matter how we might wish we did. When I painted that mural, I had no idea of its purpose. Only that my Need demanded it. By then, there were so few of us left. Alive, I mean. Otherwise, I might have told my tale to a scribe. But you can write it down now, right? People ought to know who saved the world last time.

If you’ve forgotten, I’m dead, and I’m only walking around in Ashkalan because my Need decided it was a good idea.

Oh, right, he said. Well, we’ll have to see about teaching your friend here to write and read. Peldin extended a thread of humility to let me know he was joking, at least partly.

So, you were explaining why you didn’t warn me about the rift earlier, right?

Was I? he asked.

No, but I think it would be a good idea, I said.

Abruptly, Peldin’s emotions surged across our bond—sadness and regret and longing for a different world. A different fate.

You know as well as I do how difficult it is to understand the future even when you can glimpse it through the duskweaving. You feel the whirl of possibility, but interpreting that is not within our ken. Yes, I knew that if a rift were opened it would take both types of channelers working together to fix it. I joined with Purviiv… She’s the woman who helped Paono—

Yes, I remember. The Vanished life-channeler.

Here’s the thing, Lilik. I did knowingly withhold a few things from you. The magic I’m going to show you—a trueweaving—reveals more about the future than either of its components. I sensed that if we came to this point… well, the truth is, I knew you’d be dead. I’ve been hoping since the moment you arrived on Ioene that my understanding of the future was wrong. Because you’ll see—you’re about to learn more about the future than you ever wished to see. Sure, I could’ve told you I’d envisioned you here. Now. But why? Why tell you that you had less than a year to live?

Finally, I understood why his comments had such an edge to them, the reason for his constant sarcasm. He’d been protecting himself. Protecting me, maybe, because if we became too close, it would only be harder for him to lie to me.

I think I understand, I said.

And I’m sorry I was too afraid to tell the truth.

I thought back on the time I’d had with Raav. We’d been through so much, so many struggles. But I’d had so much joy from our time together. If I’d known it would end so soon, I probably wouldn’t have allowed myself the pleasure.

Again, the Hunger pressed against my control. With a shiver, I forced it back to the crevices of my heart.

I’m sorry it has to be this way, Lilik, Peldin said quietly. But let’s begin so that Paono can release his hold on the dawnweaving sooner. Life-channeling has always hurt both the channeler and the living. Go to the first symbol.

With a nod, I stepped forward and laid my hands on the rune. As I did, I felt the vitality of the nightstrands trapped within the pigment. Paono stepped up beside me and did the same.

Now, Peldin said, each of you must release every boundary between your minds. Paono must be able to feel, through you, the nightstrands. And through Paono, you’ll sense the sparks. The difficulty lies in baring your soul—every corner of your mind—to the other person. With Purviiv and me, it took many days. And finally, though I’m ashamed to admit it, a few sleepless nights to break down our inhibitions.

There won’t be a need for that, Paono said abruptly joining our conversation. I’ve nothing to hide from my best friend.

I hesitated. This might be easy for Paono, but it wasn’t for me. He’d always been honest and had never seemed as if he felt he had something to prove. Whereas I constantly wondered if I was just a fraud. I couldn’t stand the thought of him realizing how inadequate I actually was compared to the face I showed the world.

Already, I felt him casting away the last barriers between his mind and mine. I swallowed.

On instinct, I reached for Tyrak. But he wasn’t there. The dagger was lost somewhere high on Ioene’s slopes. There was no one to reassure me.

Deep within my mind, the Hollow One stirred and crouched for another assault. My fear strengthened it. I had to stop.

“I’m afraid,” I said at last.

Paono stepped closer. “I know. You’ve always tried to hide what you assume are your weaknesses. You’re afraid that people won’t believe in you if they see your imperfections. Don’t forget, I know you, Lilik. And I love you for your faults as much as your strengths.

I searched his face for hints he might be lying. Nothing but sincerity colored his expression. I balled my fists, grimacing when my fingertips plunged through the flesh of my not-quite-real hands. Fine. I’d let Paono in. He’d only have himself to blame if the things he learned about me destroyed his illusions.

With a deep breath, I pulled away the final curtains shielding my inner self. Paono’s spirit joined with mine, and our weaves converged, two rivers rushing together to form the ocean.

I was floating on my back in a turquoise sea. I knew two things. First, the sea was many things. It represented our trueweaving, my magic joined with Paono’s. The future, the past, and moments that might have been were all embodied by the gentle waters. Second, I understood that I wasn’t really swimming. This ocean was just a way for my island-raised mind to understand what was otherwise beyond my comprehension.

I rotated so that my head and shoulders were out of the water. I couldn’t touch bottom; a glance down gave no hint of the depth. Scissoring my legs and fluttering my hands, I kept my head above water and spun in a lazy circle. Sunlight glinted off ripples on the surface. Beside me, Paono faded into existence.

He sank then came up spluttering. After a moment, he looked around, not frightened but certainly bewildered.

“Interesting…” he said simply. “What now?”

I squinted across the sun-sparkling waters. In the distance, a low island peeked above the surface.

“There,” I said pointing. And I knew, instantly, that the island represented my Need. And Paono’s Want. Just a lazy swim away.

Paono set out, swimming confidently as only an island-born can. I followed, feeling the sun on my back. With a flush of embarrassment, I realized I was wearing just my underclothes. But the emotion vanished quickly. None of this was real, and anyway, I’d swum with Paono many times before.

I made it about ten paces before a cloud skidded across the sun, its shadow sliding across the water to swallow me. Something clamped on my ankle. Cold iron. An abrupt weight levered my legs down, nearly sucking me under.

I kicked against it, peered through the nearly clear water, and gasped at the sight of an Ulstat cannonball chained to my ankle by heavy links and an iron cuff. I froze, shocked, only to be dragged beneath the surface. Frantic, I kicked and managed to get my face above the water. But when I inhaled, spray from my thrashing arms splashed down my throat. I coughed, struggling.

“Paono!” I yelled.

I couldn’t see him, could only swim and thrash and hope to keep my lungs clear.

Wind stirred the sea’s surface. A wave slapped my face. With it came a vision. I saw Raav walking along one of the slate-flagstone streets in Istanik’s trader district. His back was turned, but I would recognize his figure anywhere. His wide shoulders tapered to a slim waist, and his confident strides were unmistakable as he walked toward his home. Someone was with him, a woman. They were holding hands. I couldn’t see her face. But I knew she wasn’t me—her hair was too short, lighter, and with a slight wave in it. My heart ached at the sight. But what should I expect? I was dead. I should hope for him to find happiness someday.

The image faded, and sunlight stabbed my eyes as the clouds parted for just an instant before boiling thunderheads clapped shut over the sun. A downdraft from the coming storm roared across the water. Again the cannonball pulled me under. With the cold water pouring over my head came another vision of Istanik. My home. Ruined. The spires of the trader Houses had been toppled; broken stone was strewn across the streets. Gaping holes had swallowed entire blocks.

And the gutter slums were gone. Flattened. Nothing but charred bones remained.

Warm hands slid under my armpits, dispelling the sight. Paono was here, and he tried to help me swim. But the weight on my ankle dragged at us both.

Somehow, I understood what the anchor was. The Hunger that lived within me had entered our trueweaving. With it dragging at me, I couldn’t swim. I couldn’t reach my Need.

A wave washed over us, and abruptly, I saw hundreds of visions. I was drowning in futures. Another girl from another time huddled in a dark stone cell. The nightstrands spoke to her, but she didn’t understand their words. Elsewhere, a young woman with hair the color of fire and tattoos from wrists to shoulders pored over a book, desperate for answers, as the city around her quaked. Grief deeper than the sea beneath me filled her heart.

I gagged, and water spewed out of my mouth.

“Don’t fight, Lilik!” Paono yelled. He rolled me on my back, face to the dark-bellied clouds. I sucked in a deep breath, coughed out more seawater, and inhaled again. Fat raindrops began to spatter my face.

“Help swim if you can,” Paono said as he started stroking for the island.

Another wave crashed over my face, but I held my breath just in time. Still, another fate flashed to life within my mind. Ioene exploded in a world-ending spray of flame and darkness.

Paono coughed as a wave smacked him in the face, and we stopped moving for a moment while he recovered. From the iron band around my ankle, heaviness crept up my leg. My bones were filling with lead because the Hunger was inside of me.

When I risked a glimpse ahead, the island was invisible beyond the angry waves. We weren’t going to make it. The Hunger was going to drown us both.

“We have to cast off the illusion,” I yelled. “There is no sea.”

“What?”

“It’s a construct of our minds. Because we can’t understand the weave of time and fate. But you’ll still drown if you keep trying to swim.”

As I tried to detach from the frothing seas and the inexorable pull of the iron chain, I heard Peldin screaming from far, far away. You’re too deep! You must only skim the surface of the magic!

“Remember where you are!” I yelled to Paono. “Ashkalan!”

I closed my eyes to the crashing waves and roiling skies. As if in response, the water grew colder. More sinister. Throwing me back and forth. I needed to find my way out of the currents, but I couldn’t concentrate while struggling against the waves.

With a last deep breath, I pried Paono’s hands off of me. He snatched, trying to regain his grip, but I batted away his attempts.

The weight of my inner darkness pulled me down. Away from my friend.

Once again, I closed my eyes. I remembered the smell of cinders. The gray-white stone of Ashkalan. The cold undersides of my toes where they overhung the fronts of my ratty old sandals.

With a roar of an entire sea dropping off the edge of the world, the ocean vanished, depositing me in the mist-soaked air of Ashkalan.

Beside me, Paono crumpled, face pale, eyes flitting back and forth beneath his lids.

“Paono!” I yelled, dropping to a crouch. I tried to slap his face, to wake him from the nightmare sea but my hand passed straight through his flesh. Still, though I stood on the terrace wearing the ratty clothes of my youth, looking for all the world like a living, breathing girl, I was nothing but a ghost.

“I’m pretty sure I saw the lava burn you to a crisp,” a weak voice said. “Then again, we Ulstats are cursed with the tendency to see and hear things that aren’t really there.”

Sitting on the low wall, Mieshk planted an elbow on her knee and cradled her chin in her hand.

Chapter Twenty-Six

AS SHE WATCHED me, Mieshk hunched over her belly, a shell of the sneering trader heir she’d been. I was so shocked by her arrival that it took a moment for the sight of the harbor behind her to register. As soon as it did, the roar pounded my ears.

Before, the rift had been small gash in reality, a black and sucking rent hanging above the harbor waters. Now, it was a gaping hole so wide it swallowed the harbor completely. Worse, as I watched, the sea rose. A massive wave crashed through the narrow corridor between the harbor and sea, funneling down the empty gullet of the Hunger. At once, like the massive tidal waves spoken of in ancient histories, more waves crashed over the tops of the cliffs that defended the harbor from the sea, rushing into swamp the lowest levels of the city.

And with a choking and gurgling sound, the Hunger sucked the ocean down. With each passing second, the void grew.

As horrorstruck as I was, the sound from the mountain above plunged another dagger of terror into my heart. I spun to see raging, molten devastation spill from the crater lip.

“What’s happening!” I screamed.

Mieshk stared at me, eyes hollow. “The Hunger covets our life. And with every scrap of stone or leaf or laughter that it swallows, its desire only grows stronger. Its power only increases.” She looked over her shoulder then turned back to me. “Much longer, and that rift will crack the world wide open.”

Cataclysm.

I closed my eyes in an attempt to find calm. Another wave cascaded over the seaward cliffs in a waterfall one thousand paces wide. The Hunger sucked it down.

“As I mentioned, the Ulstats have a particular affliction,” Mieshk said. A despondent look crossed her face. “Madness. Unfortunately, I suffered from our curse. I didn’t realize it until your friend took it from me. Burned it away with my magic. Leaving me to see, with perfect clarity, how far I’ve fallen.”

She glared at Paono’s slumped form. His breath was shallow, his skin gray. A flash of anger heated my face. Why was Mieshk still alive? Why had Paono passed up the opportunity to end her forever?

Out of habit, I reached for the dagger sheath at my hip. My hand passed straight through my flesh.

Mieshk raised her eyebrows at my insubstantial flesh. “Interesting.”

I wanted to throttle her then throw her into the Hunger she had wakened. Still, the raw power from the trueweaving sizzled through my body. Maybe I could use Paono’s magic andWant to destroy her right now. I could bring lightning down from the sky and watch her die in a flash of light. I spared the thought a few, delicious seconds, but a flaming blob of lava plummeted from the sky and fell straight into the gate before us. The Hunger roared. The rift widened. Deep in my soul, the Hollow One surged.

Gritting my teeth, I turned my attention back to Mieshk. “Help me,” I said. “I can close the rift, but I need Paono to wake up.”

A desolate smirk landed on her face. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you beg. The gutterborn who had the impudence to pretend she was something more.”

“Yes, if that’s what you’d want to hear, I’ll beg.”

“Kneel,” she said flatly.

Rage vibrated in every corner of my body. I hit her with my iciest glare. I tried to make my feet move, but my pride resisted. Undone and wretched, she was trying to regain the only thing that had mattered in her lift, a sense of power.

Paono is open to you, Peldin said, abruptly in my head.

Not a good time, Peldin.

And I say that it is. You and Paono complement one another. He recognizes your strengths, openly and freely. It’s time for you to see his.

What in the rotting midden heap was he talking about? Paono was unconscious. Did Peldin agree that I should Want to hit her with a lightning bolt? Somehow I didn’t think so.

What would Paono do now? he said.

He would do the exact same thing he’d done on the crater rim. He’d grant her undeserved mercy, something I really struggled to understand, much less act on.

I tried to think about it rationally. I’d seen the kindness over and over growing up with Paono. His gentle words could turn the most spiteful old laundress into a smiling friend who’d scrub his filthy socks for free. But he wasn’t doing it to manipulate anyone. Compassion came naturally to him.

As long as Mieshk saw an enemy in me, she’d never help. She’d do everything she could to humiliate me before throwing herself to the Hunger. Mieshk didn’t care about living; I could see it in her eyes. She’d never been given a reason to care other than her quest for power. I’d spent far too much time in House Ulstat. I knew the conditions she’d endured. But maybe, with the madness expunged from her mind, she could find a way to reverse her beginnings.

But I couldn’t pretend to like her. It’d been hard enough to simply ask for her help.

I understood now what Peldin meant. I couldn’t get past my own, stubborn pride to treat Mieshk with compassion. But Paono acted that way on instinct. His mind was open to me. I could draw from more than the strength of his magic. I could draw from the strength of his heart.

I groped through the aether until I found the link between us and followed it back to Paono’s mind. His current thoughts, no doubt consumed with thrashing across the waves on the sea of possibility, were a roiling ball that I was afraid to touch. But beyond, I sensed the tranquil core of his spirit. To me, it was a blue-gray sky, or maybe that quicksilver sea I’d swam when I’d first been pulled into his dawnweaving. In any case, I stretched my awareness until his inner spirit joined with mine. In a way, it reminded me of aurora meeting fire. His steadfastness provided boundaries to the fiery side of my personality that caused a lot of problems but also gave me the determination I needed.

As I withdrew my senses from the aether, I brought his strength with me. Both of us, together.

Before me, Mieshk scowled. “I see,” she said. “You still haven’t learned how to behave in front of your betters.”

Any other time, I would’ve snapped off a retort. Instead, I stepped across the terrace and sat beside her on the wall. I tried to ignore the sucking Hunger behind us for just a minute more.

Paono’s compassion urged me to lay a hand on hers. For once, I was glad my flesh was insubstantial—I wasn’t ready to touch her. Instead, I turned to her with a gentle expression. Not a smile; I didn’t want her to think I was mocking her.

“I spent a lot of time with your sister,” I said.

Mieshk spat onto the floor in front of her. “Deceiving little minx. I should have smothered her in the crib.”

I fought the urge to grimace. Right now, Mieshk didn’t need judgment. And she didn’t need pity over her upbringing. She needed genuine compassion. And possibly, a friend. My spirit started to recoil at the thought, only to be caught from behind by Paono’s gentleness.

“I’ll admit, she could teach anybody about manipulation. Mieshk, I won’t beg. I’ll only ask as one Kiriilti to another. One human to another. Do you really want our world to die? Isn’t there something worthwhile here for you?”

She sneered. “Revenge, maybe. That thing—” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “—used me.”

“Nobody should be used that way.” Not even someone like you, I thought.

“But it doesn’t matter. You’ll fail. You’re just a gutterborn.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “But I won’t be able to try unless you help me wake Paono. Think of it this way. You could earn yourself a chance to watch the most miserable failure in human history.”

Finally, I risked smiling at her. Her lips twitched. She was so accustomed to being both hated and obeyed without protest that she wasn’t sure how to handle what sounded like gentle ribbing. But I’d touched something in her, a reminder that we shared at least one thing: our humanity.

With a heavy sigh, she stood from the wall, stomped over to Paono, and slapped him hard across the face. I winced, but the pain seemed to reach him. Moments later, his eyelids fluttered open.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

BEHIND US, THE rift was a great sucking whirlpool. Rocks and water and cinders fell down its ever-widening throat. From high on the mountain, the lava approached. Soon enough, it would engulf the city.

Paono and I stood side-by-side, shoulder to ghostly shoulder in front of the rune.

“We can’t dive deep. We can only Need and Want,” I explained. Around us, the air was filled to bursting with magic. Colors were brighter, smells stronger. Paono blazed with potential; it practically shone from his eyes.

He nodded, swallowing. His eyes flicked to Mieshk, now returned to her seat. Compared to my friend, she was a gray creature. I almost laughed. She looked as dead as I actually was.

Once again, grief welled. I shook my head. I couldn’t indulge it. The moment I actually acknowledged everything I’d lost, the Hollow One would retake my body.

“Okay,” Paono said. “I guess I’m ready.”

Together we inhaled, and suddenly I felt his Want. The compulsion to give everything to his desire was so strong that I staggered. Beside me, his hands trembled.

“You Need this,” he said.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Unlike before, when many outcomes whirled before me, now there was only one path. A stone-walled corridor leading into the future. But I found I couldn’t step forward. As hard as I tried, my feet just wouldn’t budge.

“What now?” Paono asked, echoing my confusion.

I thought for a moment. At first, I’d thought the mural had changed to reflect the new situation on the island. Mieshk had gained more power, beyond what I could defeat alone. But what if it had shown me first one figure and then two to communicate something else? One glowing person to heal the island. Two channelers to seal the rift. Both pictures were the solution.

“Don’t panic,” I said as I stepped inside of him.

One moment, I was Lilik Boket. The next, I was someone much greater than I could ever have been alone. Before me, the future lay open. I stepped onto the path.

As one, Paono and I raised our arms. Raw magic sprayed from our palms, scouring away the paint on the first rune.

But the action was only the catalyst, the pebble that began the landslide. As the first chip of pigment flaked off of Ashkalan’s wall, power gushed from our core, flooding out to consume the island. The world maybe.

With screams of elation, souls erupted from their prisons within the runes. The aether was alive with their joy. A small pop cracked the air as the Hollow One trapped in Paono’s aurora net vanished from our world. As if my nerves were being scraped raw, the fragment of Hunger that infused my spirit was dragged free.

Time stretched out. An instant felt like an hour.

And then, with a thunderclap, the rift slammed shut.

The following silence was deafening.

Moments later, Peldin spoke. That went well, I think.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I SAT SLUMPED in a corner where one of Ashkalan’s buildings met the retaining wall for the next terrace. Exhaustion filled my body, and it was all I could do to hold on to my duskweaving. On the edge of the terrace wall, Paono sat talking to Mieshk in quiet tones. But his eyes remained on me. Grief tightened his expression.

To him, I was already gone. Whether I was in the physical world or the aether, he’d never be able to hug me again. I’d be just a voice in his head or at best a ghostly manifestation like now.

But to me, the air around me was absolutely real. A light breeze caressed my cheeks, tinged with the fresh smell of wet stone recently bathed by the flood. The tile beneath me was cool and solid, and I didn’t even care that my foot was falling asleep.

I couldn’t hold on to it forever. I had to leave. But I couldn’t bear to release the power that had made me alive one last time. While fighting to close the gate, I hadn’t had time to mourn my lost life. Now, I didn’t have the strength. It would have to wait. I wouldn’t spend my last moments in the mortal realm washed in regret.

I wanted to feel the sea on my skin one last time. As I stood, knees shaky, another sensation gripped me. It had come and gone since we sealed the rift. A strange darkness, shifting within me. An echo of the Hollow One. Maybe I’d always feel it. I’d held the Hunger inside me. It was probably too much to hope I’d be entirely the same afterward.

Without the sucking hole in our world, the flood had drained from the lower terraces of the city, retreating until just a placid stream flowed out the channel connecting the harbor to the sea.

My legs ached as I descended the stairs toward the harbor. Rather than wince, I forced myself to enjoy the dull hurt. I’d miss the sensation of having a body. Even if what I felt now was just an illusion created by my duskweaving, it was real to me. I would likely never Need to take shape like this again.

Above, cracks of cooling stone peppered the air. The haze above Ioene’s summit still glowed a deep red, but no more lava spilled from her crown. The volcano was quiet. Subdued. It reminded me of the gentle, smoldering peak that had stood guard over Vanished civilization.

The air felt different, too. Maybe it was the absence of cinders or the lack of waves crashing against the outer shores. The sea had calmed, the storms quieted. I couldn’t be sure, but maybe Peldin’s long-ago prophecy had actually come true. Maybe Paono had truly been the key to healing the island. Paono and me together. With good fortune, the storm season and the frequent eruptions and the scorching long-day were all remnants of the first cataclysm.

Then again, we hadn’t done anything explicitly to heal whatever damage had been done. So maybe the current calm was nothing but the island resting after the battle.

The stone buildings and terracing on the lowest levels of the city were still damp. A few jellyfish had been abandoned by the receding water. I wanted to pick them up and help them back to the sea, but I knew my hand would only pass through them. I might feel the firmness of the skin covering the umbrella or the slimy, slippery tentacles. They might even sting. But like everything I sensed, it would be nothing but an illusion created by my magic.

I set one ratty sandal and then the other upon the quay. Using one of the stone bollards to steady myself, I sat on the edge of the waterfront, kicked off my sandals, and watched them float away on the lazy currents. I stretched my leg straight and sighed as my foot dipped into the cool water.

Footsteps crunched. Moments later, Paono took a seat beside me. It didn’t surprise me that he’d followed me, but the second set of footfalls did. Mieshk stood a few paces away, arms crossed over her narrow chest.

“We have something to talk to you about,” Paono said.

“Well, I suggest you hurry. I can’t hold my weave much longer.”

I scooted back from the edge and laid down, knees bent and soles of my feet pressed against the cold stone blocks.

“Just a moment,” he said. “Peldin wants a chance to speak.”

What is it? I asked into the aether.

Paono cleared his throat. A strange expression crossed his face. “I thought we could speak aloud this time,” he said.

“Peldin?” I asked.

Paono climbed to his feet then sketched a bow. “At your service.”

I raised an eyebrow and sat up. “Why?”

“Because I wanted you to see that entering the aether doesn’t mean you never feel the physical world again.”

Was he trying to make me feel better? Okay, so I’d be able to perceive the world. Maybe even spend a little time in it if I found a channeler willing to give me control of their body. Still, it wasn’t the same. I’d never feel Raav’s arms around me again. Not in the same way, at least, because he definitely wouldn’t feel the same about holding me if I were in someone else’s body.

But it wasn’t just about Raav.

“Thanks for trying,” I said. “But I just have to let go. I’ll be okay with it eventually.”

Peldin stretched, reaching Paono’s arms up and arching his back. “The aether’s really not so bad. You’ve spent some time in it already.”

I shrugged before wrapping my arms around my knees. His attempts at consoling me were starting to get annoying.

“Hey, Peldin, why did it have to be Paono and me sealing the rift? Nyralit kept her powers of compulsion when she died. And so did I. Why couldn’t you and Purviiv close the gate.”

He smiled a bit sadly. “Once in the aether, you can’t hold onto your magic forever. Eventually, it will pass on. A newborn human will inherit your ability. Whether that’s a gift or a curse to their new life is open to interpretation, I suppose.”

I nodded. Oh well. I’d had enough of magic for a while anyway.

“There’s a reason I’m telling you all this, Lilik, and it’s not what you think,” he said. Behind him, Mieshk shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to share it,” I said. I had little time left and hated to waste it talking to someone I’d have an eternity to chat with.

He smirked. But the expression quickly vanished, replaced by a serious look that I hadn’t expected from him. “While you’ve been lazing around and moping here on the quay, we’ve been busy arguing about you.”

“Fantastic,” I said.

“You can thank Paono and me for winning the others to your side. But your biggest debt of gratitude goes to this young woman.” He stepped aside and gestured at Mieshk.

Peldin could be so infuriating in his tendency to withhold information. But I wouldn’t waste energy getting angry. Instead, I just looked at him expectantly.

“Our sort of magic has a long list of strictures and rules. Being self-taught, you haven’t had the opportunity to sit in a classroom and intone them over and over.”

I opened my mouth, intent on asking him to get to the point, but he raised a finger.

“It’s relevant, Lilik. Just listen. If you had learned the restrictions we impose on soul priestesses and priests, you’d know that a single taboo eclipses any other stricture. You’d even appreciate how difficult it was for me to convince the others to break it for you.”

I had to admit, he finally had my attention. A tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest. My eyes wandered to Mieshk, who now stood, awkwardly kneading the air with her long-boned fingers.

“Go on,” I said.

“In our distant past, before we became a civilized people, we called them darkborn. Souls who, rather than passing from the mortal realm when their time was done, managed to seize the body of a living person. Worse, with the cooperation of a life channeler with malleable Want, these darkborn managed to reshape the bodily vessel to their liking. I think you can understand why something like this might be taboo. Imagine parents with a terminally sick child. Further, imagine a doctor who has just lost his wife. What if that doctor refused to heal the child unless one of the parents relinquished their body to allow his wife’s reincarnation?”

“You’re saying I should take over someone’s body? Just jump in and kick them out?” My eyes flicked to Mieshk.

“In essence, yes, but it’s rather more complicated. You understand the raw power contained in a living spirit. You use that compressed vitality in your duskweaving. That much energy can’t simply be created. Only the miracle of birth can bring it into the world, just as birth is the only way for magical talent to be handed down from a deceased soul to a new mortal. But if a source of vitality already exists, a soul can commandeer it, provided the current owner willingly relinquishes the body.”

I glanced again at Mieshk who stood with lips pressed together. She nodded in response but wouldn’t meet my eyes. It seemed almost as if she was afraid I’d reject her offer, that I’d find the thought of inheriting her body so appalling that I’d rather remain dead. She was wrong; no matter how much I’d hated her actions, no one was that irredeemable. But I just couldn’t allow her to make that kind of sacrifice.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” I said to her.

Finally, she met my eyes. “I don’t wish to kill myself. Despite what you might think of me, I hold myself in higher esteem than that. But I spent most of my life in a reality different from what others perceived. My madness was a constant veil through which I understood the world—I never belonged. To me, contact with the mortal realm matters less than the chance to start over. I’ll never have a fresh start among the Kiriilti, but among the Vanished, I can begin again.”

“You would rather be dead among them than alive with us?”

“Not everyone among the Kiriilti is as forgiving as you and Paono,” she said. I felt a faint flush of guilt about having needed to draw from Paono’s compassion to pretend to forgive her.

“So I’d live inside her body, and she’d join you?” I asked Peldin.

Mieshk stepped forward, intent on answering for him. “First, I’d have to relinquish my body. There are incantations known to the Vanished that will allow it.”

I nodded. “And then?”

“The others would help you leave the aether and enter me. Paono would perform another dawnweaving. He would mold my form to match your old body. You wouldn’t have to look like—” A pained expression crossed her face. “—You wouldn’t have to look like me.”

“It’s not that. Your appearance doesn’t—“

She rolled her eyes, cutting off my words. A wry smile twisted her mouth. “Please stop whatever inane comment you were going to make about my appearance being perfectly attractive. I’m quite fine with it. I was just momentarily unsettled by the thought of my body being changed to look like you. But I realized it won’t matter. It won’t be my body anymore.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so just licked my lips, thinking. Even if Mieshk thought she wanted this, I still wasn’t sure I could take it from her.

“How long before I have to decide?” I asked.

Paono’s eyes grew distant as if he were speaking into the aether. “I’d say less than five minutes,” Peldin said in a matter fact voice.

I screwed my eyes shut then blinked. How did they expect me to make this decision so quickly?

“Why so soon?”

Paono’s body sighed as Peldin put on his best look of impatience. “I already told you. It’s taboo. And through your friend’s life-channeling ability, I can tell that the others are nearly here. They can’t know. Therefore you must choose.”

I looked from Peldin to Mieshk and back. How could I possibly agree with so little time? Yet how could I possibly refuse?

“You haven’t asked about conditions,” Peldin said. “Never were much for thinking about consequences, were you? But I’ll tell you anyway. First, you can never, ever tell anyone. We would be breaking the most fundamental rule of soul magic to do this, and it’s only because you saved our world from complete annihilation. But aside from the people here, no one can know that it’s possible. Your civilization is young and has shown a remarkable lack of self-restraint.”

“A dozen people saw me jump into the lava,” I said. “They know I died.”

“Those people also saw—and felt—Paono pull energy from their spirits and weave it into a magic spell. You only need to declare that his magic insulated you from the fire.”

“But what about Raav? I promised him I’d always tell the truth.”

Paono’s body shrugged. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”

I pressed my lips together. I was a good liar. I could make the story stick. But it wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore. Then again, I didn’t want to be dead, either. And in this case, I’d be hiding the truth for the right reasons. What they were talking about doing would always be wrong. I glanced at Mieshk. Okay, maybe it would almost always be wrong. Mieshk wanted this. I didn’t want to be dead. Maybe, in this case, there was nothing immoral about the exchange.

“That’s it? I keep the secret?”

Peldin shook Paono’s head. “There’s more. I already mentioned that magic can only enter the world when a new person is born. Mieshk’s talent for compulsion was burned out of her. Even if it’s your spirit guiding her body, you’ll never work magic again—your magic belongs to the aether now. But if you remain in the aether, you’ll likely keep your talent for quite a while. There are many souls, even among the Vanished, who have yet to lose theirs.”

No magic. Another lie. But I’d have a chance with Raav. I wouldn’t have left him without a proper goodbye. My vision of him walking with another woman through Istanik wouldn’t have to come true.

And I could continue what I’d started. The Kiriilt Islands needed guidance. Otherwise, the Trader Council would likely just regain control. Plus, I’d promised Istanik’s gutterborn a place in Ashkalan. And after the battle for Istanik, I’d made a mental vow to build a home for the children orphaned by Waikert attacks.

There was so much to be done. And I didn’t need magic to accomplish it.

I turned my gaze to Mieshk. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “I never thought I’d say this to a gutterborn, but I’d be honored.”

According to Paono’s spark sense, the boat carrying my friends was closing rapidly on the harbor channel. With a tendril of perception, I watched Ashkalan’s docks through Paono’s eyes. I’d released the duskweaving, and had immediately been sucked back into the aether. The Vanished surrounded me. Heiklet stood nearby, smiling and wearing and an ornate uniform I didn’t recognize. Piping on the sleeves was sewn in intricate patterns. It must have been a costume from her home island of Orteshk. It made sense that her self-image would reflect her origins.

Just behind her, I spotted Zyri. The moment I entered Mieshk’s body, I’d lose the ability to speak to anyone here. Until I died again, at least. I felt I should say something, but my emotions were storming through my head, stealing my words. Peldin stepped forward and nodded at me.

“We are almost ready,” he said. “But before we begin, there’s someone who bargained hard for a chance to speak with you before you go.”

From deep in the crowd, a tall figure stepped forward. I recognized him instantly. As Tyrak draped an arm over Zyri’s shoulder, my heart jammed its way into my throat.

“Tyrak,” I said, a tear running down my cheek. “How?”

The crowd parted as I sprinted toward him, sent him staggering with the force of my hug. He laughed and wrapped his arms around me.

“Your trueweaving was rather more powerful than you seem to realize,” Peldin explained. “When Purviiv and I sealed the last rift, we managed it by using our weaving to convince a few of the souls powering the gate to choose dissolution into the aurora. It wasn’t runes in our time, by the way. That came from the Ulstat scholars. There are many, many ways to open the rift. Mavek’s rogue coven built small shrines and etched incantations on the inner walls before forcing spirits into each of the buildings. We were able to destroy three of the shrines, enough to close the rift, but some of the effects still lingered.”

I stepped away from Tyrak’s hug and grabbed Zyri’s hand. I was so happy for them. “Like the storm season?”

Peldin nodded. “And so forth. In all our history, we’ve never been able to undo the binding between a soul and an object. Nightforging, as you call it. But between your Need and Paono’s Want, the spirits that Mieshk bound were freed. None had to choose dissolution in order to escape.”

“I’m still not sure I understand. Tyrak wasn’t in a rune. Did we free all the nightforged souls on the island?”

“We don’t actually know how widespread the effects were,” Peldin said, inclining his head. “The shrines have been destroyed. Your friend Tyrak is free. As you know, distance is somewhat irrelevant in the aether, at least as far as magic is concerned. It’s quite possible you two managed to free every nightforged soul. Everywhere.”

I stood stunned. I could never have imagined undoing centuries of nightforging. All those Nocturnais unknowingly forcing spirits into inescapable prisons... undone. Intense pride filled my chest, no matter how hard I struggled to remain humble.

Turning back to Tyrak, I swallowed. “So I guess this is goodbye. I’ll miss you. I won’t lie.”

I hoped my words didn’t upset Zyri; I didn’t think they would. Surely, she’d understand the bond I shared with him, especially because it was rooted in our shared experience with her. A glance at her told me I’d judged right. A broad smile lit her face.

“You say that, but it wasn’t that long ago you threw me into the jumbled scree at the top of the volcano. I suppose someone might have found me eventually. In another thousand years or so.” Tyrak smiled as he teased me.

I punched him in the shoulder. “If you’re ever trapped in another dagger, I’ll make sure to keep hold of you when I jump into the lava.”

His face grew serious. “I’ll miss you too, Lilik. I won’t look forward to your death, but I will look forward to the day we can speak again.”

Lilik, we have to hurry, Paono’s voice echoed across the space. I’d never heard a channeler speak into the aether, and the sudden sound made me jump.

Peldin sighed. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him about volume. You were always much better at controlling your voice. Or better, confining your thoughts to the single person you were addressing.”

“Well, I guess we better get on with this before he bursts our eardrums. What do I need to do?”

Peldin chuckled. “Please don’t try to do anything, actually. You’d probably just mess us up.”

Moments later, I felt a slight tug, like the first gentle urgings when Nyralit had forced me back into my dying body after Raav pulled me from the refinery on Araok Island. The tug became a nudge and then an irresistible force.

I closed my eyes and became darkborn.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I WAS TALLER. Sounds were different in my ears as if every splash of a wavelet or crack of cooling lava was hard-edged and biting. The shock sent my heart racing, and when I breathed, the rush of air in the back of my throat swirled in an unfamiliar motion. I coughed, and a different voice exited my throat. I looked around, disoriented.

“Just a minute, Lilik,” Paono said. “I need to shape you.”

Right. First I’d entered Mieshk’s body. Now, he would use a dawnweaving to change my form. A flush of embarrassment heated my face. I’d known this would happen, but I still hadn’t been prepared to wear Mieshk’s shape.

“Peldin says you look ridiculous with Lilik’s expressions on Mieshk’s face,” Paono said as he closed his eyes and began to gather the sparks.

I swallowed. “Tell him I hadn’t realized that benefit of losing my channeling ability. I never have to listen to another of his bad jokes.”

He smiled crookedly. “Ready?”

I began to nod but stopped myself. “It will take a dawnweaving, right? Aren’t you worried you’ll be unable to Want it?”

Paono dropped his gaze. “I learned something, Lilik. While the Vanished and I were debating your fate, I had a chance to speak with a few nightstrands who’d been part of the Nocturnai. In particular, I spoke to the weaver who lost his life when I was trying to stop Mieshk from opening the rift. He’d moved into the aether just as I made the shell to protect the strands, so he hadn’t been able to tell me the truth until they were freed.”

“And?”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“You didn’t? But I thought you had his whole spark in your weave.”

“I did. He was so weak, nearly dead of starvation when I started to pull on his spark. He’d been looking for an escape from Mieshk’s compulsion. Already on the edge of life and death, he could sense my Want—he knew I was trying to defeat Mieshk. So he stopped breathing and gave himself to the dawnweaving. Same as you, in a way. I didn’t kill you, but your death came at the right moment for me to capture your spark.”

My chest warmed. “So you feel better about it?”

“I do. Now, will you stop talking and let me bring back my Lilik.”

Smiling, I nodded. “I’m ready.”

When Paono began to remake my body, I expected it to hurt. And it did, but in the way that setting a broken bone brings relief. Discomfort gave way to familiarity. I closed my eyes at the nausea-inducing changes in the shape of my skull, the blurred vision as my eyes were squashed and then settled into sockets shaped just right.

I knew he was finished when I was abruptly myself. I opened my eyes and looked down. Mieshk’s tattered rags were gone, replaced by the clothes I’d worn the day Paono and I stepped aboard the Evaeni and cast off for Ioene.

I glanced up at Paono, confused.

He shrugged. “Peldin said that I needed to keep a picture of you in mind. Something that represented your essence. You were so proud when we sailed for Ioene. So brave.” He smiled crookedly. “It’s how I see you, anyway.”

I returned his grin. “Thank you, Paono.”

A flash of sadness crossed his face. “Of course, Lily Pad.”

My chest twinged. “Paono… I… This isn’t how either of us expected things to turn out, is it?”

“No,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. “But I think it’s the way it was supposed to happen. Raav makes you happy. And that makes me happy. And now that we don’t have a cataclysm to worry about, I can let myself look forward to seeing Katrikki again. I think she’ll be good for me.”

I nodded and pulled him into a hug. As I laid my cheek on his shoulder, my hair fell across my face. I stiffened in shock. I’d always thought of my hair as thin and limp, but the stuff growing out of my head now was wavy, shoulder length, with ends bleached by the sun.

Paono laughed as he clasped my shoulders and squeezed, stepping back to look at me. “You’ve been complaining about your hair for the last ten years. I figured I’d give you a chance to see the other side. We can explain it as some effect of being shielded from the lava. And if you decide you want your old hair back, we can do that too.”

For a moment, I cringed, waiting for Peldin’s scathing comment. But no voices entered my thoughts. Focusing my concentration, I went through the same mental motions that had opened me to the aether before. I felt nothing. Heard only my own thoughts circling. True to Peldin’s warning, my magic was gone.

I lifted a strand of hair, tugged, and watched, cross-eyed, as the slight wave sprang back into place. I could get used to that.

“Here they come,” Paono said, gesturing at the harbor entrance with his chin.

I squinted into the dark. A single lantern lit the occupants of the rowboat. I recognized Jet at the oars, his wide shoulders and humble bearing unmistakable. But I didn’t know who else was aboard until I heard Raav yell a greeting.

As the little dinghy drew even with the wharf, I turned my head away and whispered. “Mieshk? Peldin? If anyone’s listening, please tell Mieshk that no words are adequate to thank her.”

Maybe she was listening. Maybe one of the nightstrands was looking through my eyes right now. The thought made me a little uncomfortable, but only because, unlike before, I had no way to know. It was very difficult for a nightstrand to fully engage with the human experience; I remembered that from my time in Araok’s aether. Only because Raav’s spark burned so bright and because his emotions had been so high had I been able to experience the world through him.

Anyway, the dead were really only interested in the day-to-day lives of the living when those mortal beings were the last hope for saving the world. From now on, I hoped to look forward to general anonymity.

In the front of the small rowboat, Captain Altak looked up at Ashkalan with an expression of wonder. He’d been here before, more than once, but I imagined it would take a long time before any of us could forget the overpowering dread that had emanated from the city’s walls when Mieshk had painted her runes upon them. The complete absence of that feeling easily explained that the awestruck look on his face.

After a moment, he managed to shake free of his trance and reached a callused hand for one of the stone pilings. With a sailor’s ease, he clambered out of the boat with a rope in tow and quickly tied the little vessel up.

Stepping to the back of the boat, he caught the line that Tkira tossed, fastened it to a cleat, and stretched. The lines of grief were still deep on his face, but the sight of a cleansed city had lifted some of the weight from his shoulders. The Ulstats were finally defeated. The island was healed. If we wanted, we could rebuild our ancestral home.

I stepped forward and extended my hand. His warm, rough palms wrapped it from both sides.

“It wasn’t easy, Nightcaller Boket. But you did it.” He glanced quickly at my clothing but said nothing. Surely, half these people had seen me swallow the Hollow One, and at that point, I’d been wearing the tattered rags of a gutterborn. Not to mention, I’d been able to travel the length of the beach in one long stride. So a change of wardrobe was not particularly remarkable, given the circumstances.

Behind him, I spotted Raav. He sat patiently in the boat, waiting his turn. Out of sight of the captain, I raised a single finger. Just a moment. I owed Captain Altak this chance. He’d lost his beloved for this victory.

“Nyralit would be proud of us,” I said.

His smile was melancholy. “That she would.”

“And there’s something else, Vidyul. When Paono and I destroyed the runes, we freed the strands within. But it seems we may have undone the other nightforgings forced by the Nocturnais. I think it will give her peace to learn that the souls are no longer imprisoned. I suspect she already knows—any souls trapped in nightforged objects on Araok Island have probably entered the aether there already.”

“I’ve wanted to ask you,” the captain said. “Is she confined to Araok forever? What happens if I die elsewhere? Will I never see her again?”

I chewed a fingernail. “I don’t know the answer. The strands I met there were tied to the island and split into domains by the nature of their souls. Cruel spirits were in a congregation with the Ulstats, and kind hearts were with the Silent Queen.”

Paono stepped up beside us. “Peldin and Purviiv—Vanished channelers—have a theory. They think the aether is fractured into domains because the strands are confused. Ioene is the seat of our people. They believe any spirit who has entered the aether should be able to travel here. We just need channelers to help advise them.”

“Then all those souls we imprisoned and carried away…” Captain Altak began.

“Will find their way home,” Paono finished. “And any Kiriilti who have died can join them. Nyralit can choose to join Ioene’s congregation. And nightstrands from Orteshk Island, too. Heiklet’s ancestors can meet her in person.”

In the boat, Daonok perked up. No doubt he was thinking of his lost daughter, and the chance to speak to her through a channeler. The chance to be together again, someday. As I watched, Tkira slid a hand—very sneakily—onto his knee. I quickly looked away before they noticed my attention.

“And someday, I can do the same. Return here to be with Nyralit.” Captain Altak nodded as he turned back to me. “Would you consider training them?”

My brows drew together. “The strands?”

He shook his head. “The channelers. We know the talent runs in our kind. There must be hundreds spread across the Kiriilt Islands. Compellers too. We need to open a school to assure that their talents are used properly.”

I chewed my lip and took a deep breath. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” I stepped back so that everyone could see me. My closest friends were here, people who deserved my honesty. I opened my mouth and began to lie. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to convince Paono to start their training. The Vanished can help him. The truth is, when we sealed the rift, I burned myself out. My magic is gone.”

Shocked silence held until Caffari clambered out of the boat. She rolled her shoulders and shook the stiffness from her knees. “Seems the effort gave you a haircut too.”

Raav raised an eyebrow at that. He’d been curious, clearly. But he’d respected my request for patience.

A blush warmed my cheeks. “That one is Paono’s fault,” I explained. “He shielded me from the lava, but not all of my hair made it into the protective shell. As for what’s left, seems that being trapped in a bubble beneath a lake of lava is enough to curl anyone’s hair. Even mine.”

Somewhere deep down, I felt a little twinge of shame at how easy the lies came. I thought I’d become better than that. But I understood Peldin’s demand that I keep this secret.

As Captain Altak strode away, staring up at Ashkalan, my attention finally turned to Raav. He stood, surprisingly awkward in the rocking boat. His trader upbringing meant he was usually as steady as a post no matter how a deck wobbled beneath his feet.

“Just wait, you fool,” Tkira said, instantly on her feet and climbing onto the dock. She dropped to a crouch and extended her arm. Raav seized her wrist, and she helped him onto the wharf.

I glanced down at his leg and understood. An oar had been sawed in half, and now the pieces were bracing his right leg from groin to ankle. To walk, he had to swing it from the hip.

All at once, I remembered the sound of his bones breaking.

I swallowed, stricken, as tears welled.

“Lilik, don’t. I’m fine. If it’s broken, it’s not bad.”

“But I… I did this.”

“Did you? I seem to recall you jumping between me and that… thing. I could’ve sworn you ate it. It’s no wonder you struggled for control afterward.”

I looked down at my feet. “But I hurt you. I should’ve been stronger.”

He smirked. “And I put the end of my sword into your back. Shall we call it even?” He held his arms open. After a moment’s hesitation, I ran to him. With my arms wrapped around his waist and my cheek pillowed on his chest, it finally hit me.

We’d won.

Raav pressed a kiss into my hair. He lifted a strand. “I liked the other style, but this works too.”

Abruptly, the vision I’d seen while lost in the ocean of possibility came back to me. I realized now that it hadn’t been another woman walking with Raav through Istanik. I’d only believed that because I’d known there was no way my hair would be anything but straight. But it was me. It had always been me. Somehow, fate had known I’d accept Mieshk’s offer long before I did.

So what of the other visions? Istanik, flattened. Armies marching. I recalled the girl imprisoned because the nightstrands spoke to her. The other young woman with the tattoos, her frantic search for answers. The flashes of war and strange magic and far-off lands. The Hunger had nearly swallowed our world a thousand years ago. And again today. And at some point, desert nomads on Reknarish had fought a similar battle.

We’d won today. But the time to fight would come again.

Captain Altak was right. We needed to train our soul priests and priestesses. We needed to understand the more subtle spells that could be worked with the energy of fire and aurora, the same magic that had allowed Ashkalan to stand for all these centuries while Ioene sprayed fire into the sky.

Kiriilti civilization needed to move forward. The next time the Hunger or another evil, be it Waikert attacks or something as innocent as a crop-killing drought, came for us, we needed to be prepared.

“So, Councilor Boket,” Raav said quietly as he draped an arm around me and urged me to join him as he limped along the waterfront. “What’s next?”

“Well, a long time ago you asked me if I would rebuild Ashkalan with you. We could start there. Create a school for Paono to lead. Provide work for the gutterborn in restoring the buildings, clearing the roads, learning how to cultivate the crops that grew in Vanished times. We can build homes for anyone who wants them. We’ll found a government without a defense tax. With leaders selected by the people.”

Raav’s mouth turned up at the corner. “That’s all fine and well,” he said. “But that’s not what I meant. I’m asking what’s next for us. I was married once before. But I hope you know I didn’t love Ashhi Ulstat.”

I smirked at the comment. “She wasn’t quite the right match for you, I’d agree on that.”

After a moment of silence, Raav stopped in his tracks. I turned back to him, confused.

A blush rose in his cheeks. His breath shook as he inhaled.

Raav got down on a knee, his splinted leg jutting awkwardly in front of him. “What I’m trying to say is it would be my greatest honor to do all those things, all that rebuilding you’re nattering on about, with you as my wife.”

My tongue lay flat on the bottom of my mouth. I tried to talk. It didn’t respond. Finally, I managed to nod.

“Thank the tides,” he whispered as he struggled to his feet. “Now, I suggest you kiss me.”

Dear Reader,

So that’s it for this series. Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed the books, I’d love if you left a review. Even a sentence or two helps me tremendously.

So, what’s next? Well, I’m not ready to be finished with the world or characters. Late this spring, I’m planning to release the first book in a related series. To receive updates on this new series (as well as a free copy of Silent Queen, the prequel book to the Shattering of the Nocturnai), head over to CarrieSummers.com and sign up for my mailing list.

Lastly, I’d love to hear from you. As always, you can reach me at carrie@carriesummers.com.

Thanks again for reading!

All best,

Carrie

PS. After this page, I’ve added a reference of people and places that appear in the books. Enjoy!

Places

The Kiriilt Islands

A group of roughly twenty islands governed by the ruling Trader Council. The following is a partial list of individual islands.

Stanik Island

Capital: Istanik

A large island, home to a majority of the Kiriilti trader Houses. Istanik Harbor is the largest port in the Islands, and the Trader Council conducts business within Trader Council Hall in Istanik. The inland regions of Stanik Island are hilly and covered with terraced farmland. A system of earthen roads connects the farms with the coastal settlements. Because the underlying soil is clay, these roads become treacherous and slick when wet.

Araok Island

Capital: Ilaraok

The second largest of the islands, Araok also boasts the second largest city, Ilaraok. House Ulstat calls Ilaraok home. A soot-stained city, the capital reflects the harsh Araokan landscape, craggy mountains of dark stone pocked by mine holes.

Orteshk Island

Capital: Ilorteshk

Orteshk Island is a small, wooded piece of land on the eastern fringe of the archipelago. Though not heavily populated, the relatively egalitarian attitudes of Orteshkan has led to the rise of two trader Houses, Srukolk and Thuvet from amongst the population that was once entirely commoner-class.

Tuuk Island

Home to a colony of artisans known to produce some of the finest goods not only within the Kiriilt Islands, but within three weeks’ sail in any direction, Tuuk has no capital city and enjoys relative freedom from the structures imposed by the Trader Council.

Outer Isles

A collection of six small islands on the northern fringe of the archipelago. Settlements cling to the leeward aspects of craggy escarpments dropping into the sea. Fiercely independent, Outer Islanders make their living fishing and occasionally producing crafts and jewelry inspired by the rugged coasts.

Other

Ioene

An island volcano many weeks north by sailing vessel and destination of dozens of Kiriilti Nocturnais. Former home of the Vanished civilization. Ravaged by severe seasonal changes that bring days and nights lasting for months as well as a storm season that is not thought to be survivable.

Waikert Archipelago

The jungled home of the brutal Waikert sea tribes. A month’s sail southeast from the Kiriilt group.

Jalakyrisi Spicelands

A distant group of three islands where monks collect spices rumored to have magical properties.

Reknarish

A landmass large enough that it takes three weeks to sail the length of the eastern coast. Few Kiriilti have ventured to a Reknarishi port city, and none have been deeper than a day inland. The northern and southern coasts are unexplored by Kiriilti captains.

People

The following is a partial list of characters and members of prominent families including their island of origin if applicable. Some members of trader families are eliminated if not important to this part of the series.

*deceased

Boket – Stanik Island slums

Maajidi – mother (estranged)

Saol – father

Lilik – daughter

Jaret – son

Avken – Stanik Island slums

Praniset – grandmother, better known as Nan

*Keilan – mother, killed years ago in a Waikert attack

*Varit – father, killed years ago in a Waikert attack

Paono – son, currently on Ioene opposing Mieshk

House Ovintak – Stanik Island

Praviili - mother/prime

Frask - heir

Raav Ovintak - younger son, stood sentinel to Katrikki Korpit during Nocturnai

House Ulstat – Stanik Island

Olev – father/prime, known largely as Trader Ulstat

Mieshk – heir, currently gathering power on Ioene

*Ashhi – younger daughter

Lakdiken – younger son, currently held hostage on Istanik

*Leesa – wife of a mad prime who ruled centuries ago

House Korpit – Stanik Island

Mareti – prime heir, former love interest of Raav Ovintak

Katrikki – Nightcaller, love interest of Paono Avken

House Yiltak – Stanik Island

Naviire – mother/prime, known largely as Trader Yiltak

Moanet – heir

House Srukolk – Orteshk Island

Oreken – grandfather/prime, known as Trader Srukolk

Maoket – heir, mother to Heiklet

*Heiklet – granddaughter, killed by Mieshk Ulstat during failed Nocturnai

House Majkut – Stanik Island

Avilet - younger daughter, nightcaller to the failed Nocturnai, on Ioene with Mieshk Ulstat

House Thuvet – Orteshk Island

Barenil – father/prime, known as Trader Thuvet

Islilla – younger daughter, stood sentinel to Heiklet Srukolk during failed Nocturnai

House Rutevieshk - Stanik Island

Vokiili - mother/prime

House Vaskilt - Stanik Island

Hakojelt – father/prime

Wisiri – daughter/heir

Crew of Zyri’s Promise

Captain Vidyul Altak

Strandmistress Nyralit

First Mate Tkira

Second Mate Gaff

Vanished

Peldin – speaker for the strands

Zyri – gave Lilik her memories

Tyrak – Zyri’s friend and beloved

Purviiv – A life-channeler

Miscellaneous

Jet – captain of the gutter wardens

Caffari – leader of a band of smugglers

Daonok – Caffari’s second in command