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She didn’t.

The forest grew wilder as they pressed north. After the Schism, the island was abandoned, left for nature to reclaim. Trees coiled around the skeletal remains of buildings, their roots prying apart stone and steel. Old airwalks jutted into nothing, severed mid-span.

There were remnants of statues, the occasional moss-covered staircase visible through the trees, the rest of whatever structure it used to belong to gone.

The city was vanishing, its last traces dissolving beneath moss, roots, and time. And while it had a beauty all its own, it was best not to wander off the paths marked by salvagers and hunters.

So, they followed the river.

The cold off the water was sharp, knifing through damp clothes whenever the wind shifted. But it was the only path Taly could rely on from memory that didn’t present any major challenges. Sure, they’d have to skirt around grendel territory, but that was better than wyverns when they were nesting. And much better than accidentally stumbling through a tear in the Veil.

Taly’s head swam suddenly, and she stopped, pressing her hand flat against the slick, moss-covered trunk of a nearby tree for balance.

The dizzy spell passed—but not fast enough.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kato called from further up the steep, muddy incline they’d been scaling for the last half hour.

“Nothing,” Taly panted, every breath dragging like a serrated blade through her ribs.

“Really? Because you’re looking a little wobbly there. Is this where you do the damsel thing and faint dramatically? Should I be ready to catch you, or should we let Skye have the honor?”

Kato was a miserable bastard. Taly had pieced that together a long time ago from Skye’s stories. And like all misery, he needed others to share in it, spreading it around until it clung to everyone else as much as it stuck to him.

Until now, she’d tolerated it. Kato had been there for Skye when no one else was, and she was grateful.

But that gratitude only stretched so far.

“Please don’t kill him,” Skye said, backtracking down the hill. “I don’t want to carry his gear.”

He slid the last five feet through the mud, catching himself on a tree.

“Just ignore him. If he doesn’t get a reaction, he’ll eventually get bored and move on.”

That was easy for Skye to say. He’d had his whole life to work on his poker face. As for her, she’d never been good at holding her tongue. And right now, with her lungs on fire and her heartbeat pounding uncomfortably in her ears—

“Hey,” Skye said gently. Dew clung to his skin and dampened his hair. His eyes, sharp and searching, tracked the strain in her posture, the flush of her skin. “You good?”

Taly was sweating even as she shivered. “I’m fine,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “Just a bit of aether sickness.”

Skye’s gaze softened, a mix of understanding and pity. “We can stop. Let you catch your breath.”

“Catch my breath?” Taly gave a huff, part exhaustion, part laughter. “What am I, eighty? Keep moving, unless you want me to leaveyoubehind.”

Skye raised an eyebrow, and she saw that spark of knowing—the unspokenyou’re full of shithidden behind the curve of his lips. “Here. At least, give me this—”

She jerked away when he reached for the strap of her pack. “I said I’m fine.”

She didn’t mean for it to come out so sharp—it was just… habit. The result of so many years of proving she could keep up, of never needing help, especially from him.

He stood there for a moment, hand still outstretched. Then he let out a slow breath and dropped it. “Okay. Fine.” He rolled his shoulders like he was shaking off the irritation.

The day wore on. The miles stretched. A countdown measured in steps, in aching muscles, in the slow grind of fatigue settling deep into her bones.

By late afternoon, the fire in her lungs thickened to molten lead. Her body was a weight she had to drag forward.

With each step, her pack grew a little heavier. The cold, a little harder to shake off.

The aether on the island was just sothin...