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I concentrate my rabbiting thoughts into an image of the hummerbill lying still, very still, while her hummerlets and I clear the debris crashed over her.

She’s quivering with fear, rage, and an emotion I can’t fully identify, but she stops thrashing around.

Better still, with her back in connection with her flock of hummerlets, she can focus them as well… somewhat.

It takes what feels like hours to finally free her from the debris, and when she finally pulls herself aloft, her left wing is badly skewed.

Her hummerlets race to her aid as she shakily soars over the water of the lake, and I’m left to trudge out of the wooded cove and haul myself over the rocks until the deep, thick grasses of the ridgeline greet my questing fingers.

More exhausted than I feel like I’ve been in my entire life, I turn myself over on the hillside, and stare into the clear blue sky.

Kreya yodels a cry of cautious joy, and I feel a burst of relief—half from me, half from her hummerlets—but that doesn’t stop the dread from taking hold within me, seeping through my chest.

Miriam is no longer banded to her Divh.

Did I do that to her, somehow? By allowing her to return through the Blessed Plane without her Divh, did I break some sort of contract, some bond that I had no idea even existed?

The protocols of warrior and Divhs may be written in the books of Lord Daggar’s library, but even there, I doubt they ever recorded the proper ways to ensure the connection between Divhs and non-warriors.

Or even if such bonds were meant to last.

And what of Miriam? Is she hurt? To hear Nazar explain it, the forced unbanding of Divh and warrior outside the Light-blessed handoff between family members is always absolutely devastating to the warrior.

But this band didn’t go to anyone, nor did it remain wedged in Miriam’s wrist like Nazar’s had, unwilling to let go.

It returned to the Blessed Plane scorched and stretched, wrapped around Kreya’s beautiful bill.

I reach out with my mind to Kreya, searching her memories, but everything beyond the screech of her own hummerlets and her first sight of me is only blackness.

I watch her fly roughly, awkwardly across the lake, her hummerlets propping up her wings and adding what limited power they can to her flight, and grimace.

There’s no way for me to get back to Fortiss on Kreya’s back.

She might—possibly—be able to make the trek on her own, but she can’t carry a rider.

Still, I’m connected to her, at least. I may not be able to call Gent to me, but I could hear the other Divhs as they practiced… when was that? Just this morning?

I frown, staring across the waters of the great lake.

From this vantage point, I can see the small island in the middle of the placid blue water, both it and the nearby rough outcropping that I now know as a mirror of the coliseum serving as the only visible interruptions from here to the far horizon.

I wonder what’s going on at the First House right now.

Had I underestimated Miriam’s fear at returning to the council with her band?

Had she begged Nazar to officially unband her here in the Blessed Plane, before she even returned home?

I could see that, honestly, though I can hardly countenance it.

Even though Kreya is nowhere near as large or fierce as the other battle Divhs, she gave Miriam the gift of flight, of travel—of connection.

Who wants to live without connection?

Not me.

“Gent,” I whisper, almost desperately this time.

I clench my eyes shut, focusing on his immense, beautiful bulk—the parade of heavy horns that stick out from his head and trail down his shoulders.

His massive, gorgeous, protective paws. His mighty onyx talons, glinting like jeweled spikes from a sea of green scales.

I do everything I can to will our connection to be reformed, but there’s nothing but the distant howl of the hummerbill and the buoyant cries of her flock.

Frustrated, I lift my left arm high, forming a fist. “ Enough with this, Gent,” I groan. “I need to see you! We need to return to the First House or to Fortiss—but we can’t stay here!”

But Gent doesn’t respond.

Scowling, I think again about Fortiss. Is he searching for me—frantically wondering what happened when Szonja threw me into the sky and I left the Fated Plane? Or does he somehow know I’m alive, feel it through whatever connection has grown between us?

Even if he does, this place has no use for me, not anymore.

The moment Tennet is well enough to make the journey through the Blessed Plane, Fortiss and the entire battle party will transition to the First House.

That could be a matter of hours—but not days, I don’t think.

If I don’t return immediately, I can’t imagine Fortiss would go so long without knowing for sure I was safe.

He probably thinks I’m already at the First House safely with Gent.

That thought makes me smile, even if a little sadly. My connection with Gent may still be broken, but with Fortiss? That bond has been forged in fire, magic, blood—and pure, visceral need. It will hold, I think. It will hold.

Far out over the lake, Kreya banks in a wide, lazy arc, her movement finally catching my eye.

As she turns toward me, flapping her wings in ungainly swoops, my gaze shifts to the far western horizon beyond her.

I frown, dropping my arm so that my hand shades my eyes. Has it grown darker on the horizon?

I back farther up the ridge, trying vainly to see more, but the approaching hummerbill obstructs my view.

I reach out to her, imagining the skrill, the shadow monsters, but her focus is intent, her flight only seeming to pick up speed as she nears me.

Too late, I hear the burst of chittering chirps and squawking excitement as I realize what’s happening here.

Gent may not have heard my cry for help, but Kreya did. And she’s going to try to answer my call.

“ Light —no—no!” I hold my arms up, stumbling back, but there’s no stopping her as she screams with utter joy and shoots across the top of the ridge, her claws out, her wings flapping surprisingly well.

I don’t think she’ll be able to build up the momentum for another run, and at the last breath, I turn and start running ahead of her, my cape flowing in the wind, giving her as big a target as I can—and praying she doesn’t rip me to shreds.

I wince with blinding pain as her raptor-like talons skewer my right shoulder yet again , my head jerking to the side as her left foot tangles in my cape.

Then we’re off the ledge and she’s soaring up—up—but I already know we’re too slow even to reach the limits of the Blessed Plane, and far too slow to break through. We’re too slow !

We’ll never make it.

And once again, Gent won’t be there to catch me.