Page 41

“They’ll hunt me.” His voice doesn’t change. “Their entire doctrine depends on their belief that magic is an abomination. My escape will make them look weak.”

The sun climbs higher, burning away the morning cool. Sweat trickles down my spine, the winter clothes I’ve been wearing since I arrived becoming increasingly uncomfortable in the rising heat.

The sweater sticks. My jeans chafe. Every step feels heavier than the one before.

Sacha glances over. His left hand twitches, and shadows gather above us again, forming a canopy similar to yesterday’s. The relief is immediate.

“Thank you.”

He nods, but doesn’t speak, his attention already returning to our surroundings.

The ground begins to change as the morning wears on. The soft dunes give way to hard-packed soil. Rocks start to break through the surface, and thorny plants appear now and then, low to the sand.

Sacha stops, dropping to one knee beside a strange plant with thick, paddle-shaped leaves bristling with needle-like spines. It reminds me of a cactus, but not quite right. More like someone built it from instructions they didn’t fully understand. There’s something off about it. The leaves are too angled. Too sharp. It looks more like a weapon than a source of sustenance.

“Here.” He breaks off one of the leaves, avoiding the spines that glint wickedly in the sunlight. Clear liquid beads at the broken edge. “Desert succulents store water. This one won’t hurt you …ifyou know how to handle it.”

He lifts the leaf to his lips and tilts it, letting the liquid drip into his mouth. The way he handles it suggests experience, just one more piece of his mysterious past I know nothing about.

I follow his example, and immediately regret it when several tiny spines jab straight into my skin. I hiss, lifting a finger to my mouth to soothe the sting. I might be mistaken, but I’m sure Sacha’s lips twitch upward before his features return to that carved stone blankness I’m getting to know so well.

The plant’s water tastes bitter and slightly metallic, but it’s wet and fresh, and more importantly, quenches my thirst. When he snaps off a few more leaves, I copy him, taking care not to take too many from any one plant.

Andthat’swhen it really hits me. I wouldn’t last a day out here without him. If I hadn’t found the tower when I did, I wouldn’t be here now. I’d be dead.

The thought settles in, uncomfortable and quiet. I don’t know enough to survive on my own. Not here.

“Was it always like this?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “The desert, I mean? Is this how you remember it?” I’m reaching. Grasping for some thread that ties him to this world. Some way to understand where I am. Or where he’s from.

“No.” His face hardens, the answer too quick. “The desert was always here. But when I was a boy, there were caravan routes—nomad tribes in the Sunfire Dunes who traveled through Ravencross for trade. The Authority made that kind of travel dangerous. Especially once they realized many of the tribes had magic of their own.” He pauses, and I wonder if he’s picturing how it used to look. “What you see now is what they left behind.”

He moves ahead, and that’s the end of it.

I stare at his back as he walks away, wondering what it’s like to return to a world that kept moving without you. How much of it has changed while he was locked away.

The heat intensifies as the sun climbs. Sweat soaks through my clothes, and my boots, designed for snow and ice, feel like fur-lined ovens.

I’m about to ask Sacha to stop so I can take the torture devices off my feet, when his entire body goes rigid. His head snaps up like a predator catching a scent, every muscle taut with sudden alertness. He raises one hand, pressing a finger to his lips, head tilted.

“What is it?” My whisper feels too loud in the sudden stillness.

“We’re not alone.” His voice drops so low I have to strain to catch the words. “Don’t move.”

His hand makes a fluid gesture that seems to pull at the air itself. The shadows around us respond—deepening, stretching, then flowing outward. The darkness extends beyond what natural shade should allow, reaching into places where light should still exist.

The breath catches in my throat as the darkness bends toward him. The planes of his cheekbones turn sharper, more defined. Then his eyes …

The black of his irises bleed outward, swallowing thewhites completely until his eyes become bottomless pools. A shiver runs down my spine.

Whatever Sacha is, he isn’t fully human. Or at least, not the kind of human I’m familiar with.

Dark shapes swirl beneath the skin of his throat and face. The shadows aren’t just around him, they’repartof him, inside him.

I can’t look away. Fear and fascination war within me as I watch. This ismagic, real magic, and it’s both beautiful and terrifying.

“Three riders. Approaching from the southeast.” Even his voice sounds different, layered with echoes that weren’t there before, as if multiple voices are speaking in subtle harmony. “Authority soldiers, judging by their colors.”

He blinks, and the blackness withdraws from his eyes, returning them to normal. The shadows beneath his skin fade, leaving him looking human again.