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‘You’ve got this, Thea,’ Cal said. ‘Think of it as just a really big river.’

‘Thanks,’ she muttered, taking a few steps back and lining herself up with the target on the other side. She secured the satchel Wren had refilled over her shoulder, so it rested against her back.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, pushing aside the fear, pushing aside the urgency and the image of the waves breaking upon the jagged rocks below.

‘I do not die today,’ she muttered to herself, tensing in anticipation. Another minute and she’d lose her nerve. Thea opened her eyes, and gripping her branch in both hands, she sprinted for the edge of the cliff.

Planting her branch in the earth, Althea Nine Lives launched herself up and suddenly, she was soaring through the air —

For the briefest of seconds, time stopped and Thea was weightless above the roaring sea. Then, she felt the kiss of the wind on her back and the icy salt spray of the waves as they broke upon the rocks below.

She braced her whole body as she carved through the wind, the other side of the isle drawing closer and closer as she leapt – as she fell.

Thea released the branch from her grasp. It had served its purpose. Heart still in her throat, she landed deftly on solid ground, gravel crunching comfortingly beneath her boots, and when she looked up, she saw chaos.

She hadn’t realised how many other shieldbearers had actually made it across. Drawing her sword, Thea crouched behind a boulder and motioned to the others, who were still on Thezmarrian soil, to hurry.

The clang of steel and angry shouts sounded from nearby and Thea peered from behind her cover to see that fighting had broken out…

‘There are fifty of you and only thirty totems…’

It appeared that some had felt the call, and those who had not were sabotaging their peers.

Kipp landed a few feet away from her with a grunt, dropping his branch alongside him.

‘Over here.’

He darted towards her, his face horror-stricken at what he, too, now saw.

‘Gods, it’s chaos.’ He crouched beside her, unsheathing his own blade.

But Thea was watching Cal size up the gap between the cliff and the isle on the other side.

‘Come on, Cal…’ she muttered, gripping the hilt of her sword so tightly that her hand ached.

He took a run-up, just as she and Kipp had done, his long legs pounding the grassy earth. Burying his branch in place just shy of the edge, he leapt, suddenly soaring towards them —

The branch snapped.

Cal’s arms and legs flailed, his scream silent as his body pitched through the air.

His momentum faltered, and Thea’s cry lodged in her throat.

Dropping her sword, she snatched the bough that Kipp had dropped and sprinted for the edge of the isle. Barely registering Kipp latching onto her legs, she slid it out into the gap between their isle and the Thezmarrian cliffs, praying that it would hold, that it would take his weight and the sudden impact.

Cal fell towards them, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the branch and —

He caught it, right under the arms with a groan.

The timber bowed beneath his weight, springing up and down, Cal’s legs dangling uselessly beneath him.

Together, Thea and Kipp dragged the branch inward, towards safety, and as soon as Cal was close enough, he scrambled for the ledge. He reached for them and they hauled him up, all three of them panting.

Thea’s chest was so tight she thought it might implode. She didn’t let go of Cal, worried that if she did, he’d tumble right back over into the seas below.

His hand gripped hers back, solid and safe.

‘Holy Furies,’ he croaked. ‘I’m never doing that again.’