Page 22

Crescent Canyon stretched across the landscape, following the path of the city for which it had been named. Once a sprawling, underground metropolis, Crescent City had collapsed during the Schism. The rubble had been cleared away long ago, but the soft-colored rock was still peppered with holes, and gaps, and tunnels that had once been homes, and stores, and roadways.

Some gates, like the Aion and Seren Gates, weren’t online when the Time Queen forcibly closed the bridges between the worlds. They survived with little damage and minimal loss of life, while others, like the five gates that now lay at the bottom of the canyon, had been open. The aether surge the Queen had used to override the safety protocols had immediately shattered the Crossroads—that artificial space between worlds where the fey had built their bridges.

Those that were there that day always said that the flashes of light came first. Then the explosions, the smoke, the fires. There had been no signs of impending danger. Nothing to hint at what was to come as people gathered on thebridges, fanning out through the markets that spread around the gates.

Very few had survived the blasts, though places like Crescent City…

When the gates exploded, the city collapsed, swallowed by the land. Half a million people died in Crescent City alone. There were five more underground cities scattered across the island that had also perished.

Tearing his eyes away from the jagged pillars of crystal that still jutted from the canyon floor—all that was left of the Primus Gate—Skye began picking his way along the edge of the cliff. He could see the suspension bridge in the distance, just around the bend. Spanning the narrowest section of the ravine, it was a web of tangled vines and living timber, reinforced with steel and cable and mesh. Since the aether on the island could fluctuate drastically, Ivain hadn’t dared build a bridge using traditional methods. During a depressive swing, when the aether could get so thin that each breath felt like fire, the floating air platforms common in places like Arylaan and Thanos would fall from the sky. So, the Marquess had borrowed the design for the Riftway from the humans, mixing their technology with just a hint of fey magic to create something truly unique.

Most mainland fey believed it to be an abomination. Skye thought it was genius.

A heavy curtain of trees crept forward, butting up against the rocky cliffside, and Skye reluctantly turned away from the canyon. The area was clear, and he hadn’t seen any sign of danger since he left the caravan. It was time to head back.

Gravel crunched and leaves hissed as he pressed himself between the trees. The forest was dense on this part of the island, and he would have to move slowly. There would be no room to run, nothing to help him shake off the nervous energy that still simmered just beneath the surface.

He wasn’t sure how he could be so restless and so tired at the same time. It was like his body thought it could run away from that aching hole in his chest that seemed to grow larger with each passing day, not knowing that it was a part of him now. Would follow him until he found—

Taly.

Skye sighed. Even if he tried to push her out of his thoughts, she was always there. Her laugh, her scent, her smile—the memories would inevitably sneak up on him when he wasn’t paying attention, and the pain would begin anew.

A twig snapped in the distance, and Skye refocused his aether, tilting his head and listening, scenting the wind.

No footsteps or obvious signs of a predator. No unusual pockets of silence. The air smelled of moss and loam, rain and wind. A stream trickled in the distance.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Though…

Skye reached for his magic, something tickling at the edge of his senses. It was instinct, a feeling that—

“Skye, you there?” Eula’s voice filtered through his earpiece. “We’ve reached the next waypoint. The canyon is in sight. Are we safe to proceed?”

Skye loosed a breath, punching the button on the comm strapped to his waist. “Affirmative. The eastern sector is clear.”

“Good.” Eula’s tone was clipped, and Skye could hear Kato grumbling in the background. “We’re moving. Meet us at the bridge.”

“Will do.”

Skye continued, heading west, back towards the main highway and the caravan that would be gathering around the bridge. A breeze rustled the leaves high overhead, shaking loose a flurry of delicate white petals that drifted around him like snow. He looked up, searching for the characteristic tangle of blue thorns twining through the upper branches.

Pixie slippers. That wasn’t the real name for the tiny flower—just the name Taly had picked out when they were children. She thought the petals looked like little shoes.

Skye rubbed at his chest. There were too many memories. Too many reminders. And what if Kato was right? A human on an island full of shades? Even if she was working with the man, woman, or thing responsible for creating them… What if she had already served her purpose? What if she had already outlived her usefulness and—

“Huri, Cora, and Sela have returned.” Eula paused to bark out an order. “They’re standing by.”

“Good, that’s everyone.” Skye stopped to swat at a butterfly that flew too close. Its wings were edged with charcoal, making it look like it was made of smoke. Soot sprites. Taly had read a story once about how they were supposed to bring good luck, and ever since, she had made a point of catching them whenever they went camping in the woods. “Send out the next wave of scouts. If thearea on the other side of the bridge is clear, keep moving forward.”

“Sire.”

The comm clicked, and for a little while, there was only silence.

After an hour of walking and picking his way through the underbrush, the forest began to thin. Skye circled back around to the canyon edge, squinting as he emerged from the tree line. Eula was reciting a long list of status updates through the comm, and he could see that she had already started moving the carts across the bridge.

His eyes flicked to the other side of the canyon. Another thick line of trees rustled in the breeze, and a stag darted between the foliage, its antlers catching on the leaves.