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She could do this.

A surge of flame burst from the bonfire, twisting and turning like a living entity. Evelyn’s magic grasped hold of the fiery energy, wielding it like her own. She cast the surge of flame toward the other bonfire, creating a line of flame between the two.

Some Far Darrig perished. Others ran from the wall of fire she created. She ran toward the center, and before they ran back into the Gray Wood and she lost grip on the bonfire’s flame, she flicked her wrist from the far-right bonfire to the left one, another wall of fire rising between the two.

Above, the forest’s canopy opened to allow more smoke to escape. The Far Darrig leader screamed, his twisted wooden crown falling lopsidedly.

Evelyn collapsed, exhaustion weighing her down.

You’re nothing without your flame.

In her moment of weakness, the same resounding doubt ricocheted in her mind. But she didn’t need her flame to do this. Not yet, at least. She needed to keep going, to fight. Looking up, she caught sight of Tessa kicking a Far Darrig trying to get hold of her.

Evelyn could not fail Tessa. Flashes of her parents’ last moments helped her stand. She would not let darkness take someone else.

Rushing toward Tessa, Evelyn used her staff to beat down the Far Darrig. The blindfolded young woman struggled with her bonds. Evelyn grabbed her shoulder, but the woman screeched in fear.

“Tessa! It’s all right,” Evelyn said, ripping down the blindfold. “I’m here to help.”

The young woman’s eyes glistened with relief and tears. Evelyn sent a spark of flame around the rope on Tessa’s wrists, snapping it loose.

“Take my hand!” Evelyn said.

Just as Tessa did so, something hit the back of Evelyn’s knees. She fell, bringing Tessa down with her. The leader of the Far Darrig screeched, wild and feral, its needle-like nails scratching Evelyn’s skin as he crawled up her body.

Wrinkled skin and black, pupil-less eyes met hers as tiny hands gripped her throat. Evelyn struggled to pry the Far Darrig off. For Cyrus’s plan to work, she couldn’t conjure her flame, and it went against her instinct, everything she believed to be true.

That she was nothing without it.

But the plan worked only if more Far Darrig focused on Cyrus—the one with the sword cutting them down. If she brought her flame forth at her fingertips, Cyrus wouldn’t be the main distraction as she put their trap in place. She also needed to keep her energy, reserve her power for the last part of the plan.

The razor nails of the faerie cut at Evelyn’s neck. Her vision went in and out, the sky above blurring and focusing. She fought and pushed the Far Darrig but failed, her staff out of reach. Fear chilled her blood. Her magic urged to be released. Images of her parents’ death flashed through her mind. The comments of her cruel tutor rang in her ears.

Along with the last words of her late father.

Believe, Evelyn.

Evelyn didn’t need her flame to win this fight. She could do it herself, not depend on it. She had to. Belief coursed through her, something new, a magic she’d never felt before.

She reached out farther, her fingers landing on her staff. She grabbed the familiar weathered bone and hit the leader of the Far Darrig, bludgeoning the faerie until its grip loosened.

Regaining her breath, she gripped its wrinkled neck, tossing it off her. The Far Darrig rolled, its red cap and wooden crown falling off. It screeched and bared its teeth. Evelyn stood, using the blunt end of her staff to hit the leader of the Far Darrig into the raging bonfire.

The Far Darrig tribe screamed at the loss of their leader. Tessa fought three, kicking them down and tossing them away. Evelyn rushed to her aid, knocking the few faeries back with her staff.

“Thank you,” Tessa breathed, taking Evelyn’s hand.

Evelyn nodded. “Stay close.”

Behind them, Cyrus swung his blade, slaying and pushing the Far Darrig onto the platform. Evelyn set her sights on connecting the far-left bonfire to the next, but her boot crushed something.

The Far Darrig leader’s crown.

Darkness screamed against Evelyn’s magic. Picking up the crown, she sensed the wretchedness within it. The Gray Wood around them writhed in pain. The trees and crown were one and the same, ash-colored branches braided and looped together, patches of foxy underbark visible. Whatever darkness was weaved into this crown, it controlled the forest.

Evelyn had no time to wonder any further; she looped the crown through her arm to examine it later. She focused on the bonfire. Exhaustion gripped her like a storm, blood trickled from her wounds, and bruises pulsed around her neck.

Determination thrummed like magic in her blood, drowning out everything else. Evelyn lifted her hand, twisting her fingers to regain control over the flame of the third bonfire.