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Oska grunted and spurred Sav on, faster , using the nearby phoenix’s wing as coverage from falling weapons.

“Dip a little lower to avoid the phoenix’s talons if they lash out,” Dira added, and Oska obeyed. “Okay—swerve four meters to the right in three, two, one—”

Savita pivoted just as a giant, serrated scrap of metal fell from above. The phoenix overhead attempted the same maneuver a half-second later.

Too late.

The sharp metal pummeled into the phoenix’s outstretched wing. Crimson splashed against Savita’s neck as the other phoenix fell back, flailing.

The Howlers surged into third place.

Oska’s ragged breath pounded through Kel’s skull.

“You okay?” Kel whispered.

“Fine.” Oska’s voice trembled. “Anyone coming up behind me?”

“You’re clear,” Dira answered, unfazed. “Narrow Sav’s wings to gain more speed. Maintain your height until I tell you to move. There’s still plenty of time left in the lap.”

Though Oska stayed silent, she held her ground. The falling obstacles grew scarce as the finish line neared, the track’s electric center and wire borders preventing too many phoenixes from flying side by side.

Twin red-and-gold flags appeared in the distance, rippling through the heat.

Kel bunched her hands at her sides, clenching and unclenching her fists. Oska needed to move faster .

Slowly, Sav inched closer to the firebird placing second.

The birds in first and second—two large blood phoenixes—were stretched out in a tight line.

There was little chance of sliding past them without hitting the center’s electric pillar.

But third place would still give the Howlers a small chunk of the prize money, enough to—

Wild laughter blared through Kel’s comm, cutting through the noise of the crowd.

A second later, maroon flames blazed past Oska and Savita: an enormous phoenix, moving faster than it should have been able to given its size.

Through the distant sparks, Kel glimpsed the back of the rider; a flash of chestnut curls peeked out from their helmet.

Her nerves, already taut as bowstrings, snapped.

Kel bit her lip, hard enough to split the skin. Of all the riders to overtake Oska…

“Really?” she groaned, tilting back her head, demanding an answer from the Alchemists themselves. “Did it have to be Warren Coupers?”

As if he heard her, the prick—“Coup,” to most—whooped again, loud enough to be heard over the endless phoenix screeches.

Kel bit down on a new ulcer.

It was no surprise that the crowd adored the young rider.

Flames , the entire isle adored him. He’d appeared on the racing scene not long after the Howlers, and had quickly become the poster child for the fame, the recklessness, the shiny facets of CAPR that made Kel seethe.

Phoenixes were godly creatures meant to be feared and protected.

Not props for careless stunts by thrill-seeking boys with annoyingly symmetrical cheekbones.

Kel scowled as Coup gained more speed, closing in on the first and second phoenixes far too quickly, with too little care for the weapons dropping close enough to clip his phoenix’s wings.

He was pulling ahead so fast; there was no way that Oska and Savita could catch up.

Kel’s stomach dropped as Coup sent the Howlers firmly into fourth place.

The Howlers wouldn’t see a single cere.

“How is he doing that?” Kel cursed.

She squinted. As his phoenix stretched its wings, Coup unbuckled his legs from his saddle, pulled his feet up behind him, and lowered himself to lie flush against the stiff saddle.

Kel couldn’t imagine how painful the strain must have been on his arms—holding still as his phoenix swerved and slashed through the sky, closing in on the riders claiming first and second.

With winds roaring against them, Coup’s flaming beast dove between the two phoenixes ahead.

There shouldn’t have been enough room for Coup’s phoenix to squeeze through—and yet, with his legs free and the phoenix’s wings pinned, somehow Coup slipped into first place as easily as silk between fingers.

“How the hell did he do that?” Dira spat. “Even if he’s strong enough to hold himself up without buckles—if the other phoenixes had shifted closer, they could’ve squashed him like a bug!”

Kel shook her head, anger closing her throat. She watched Coup swing his legs back over the sides of the saddle and direct his phoenix to spread its wings as wide as possible.

The flames around him licked higher. With swift hand gestures along the phoenix’s neck feathers, Coup instructed the firebird to move quicker, to grow even hotter. Kel couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll barbecue himself,” she sighed, though she knew it was too much to wish for. Luck had unfairly blessed Coup ever since he’d first appeared in CAPR, almost two years ago.

The heat rolling off of Coup’s phoenix would definitely burn through his riding leathers, though it would also deter any other riders from approaching. Kel could feel it from her booth. Coup had overtaken the leaders with an impossible move.

Somehow, it had worked. For him .

Coup howled as he sailed across the finish line.

Fourth place. The words scraped like talons through Kel’s mind.

“How the hell did he pull that off?” Oska screamed through the comms. A second later, Kel heard a strange, frenzied jingle , followed by a squawk from Sav.

“What’s that noise? What are you doing?” Kel shouted.

Oska didn’t reply. Squinting, Kel spotted Oska fumbling with the buckles around her legs. Oska hissed as the metal blistered her gloved fingers.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kel screamed. “Unbuckle your legs and you’re dead.”

“We need to do something to place!” Oska shouted. The strain in her voice sent shivers down Kel’s spine.

“Not this,” Dira said breathlessly. “Do you have a death wish? It’ll just mean we need to find a new rider—”

Oska made a small noise, something between a whimper and a laugh. “You really think that arrogant shit is a better rider than me?”

“No,” Kel lied. “But why would you want to imitate something Warren Coupers decided was a good idea?”

Oska’s hands kept fumbling at the buckles pulled tight around her ankles and calves. Kel imagined the rider’s face had turned as stark-white as her own knuckles.

“I can do this,” Oska rasped.

“Even if the move was doable—we’re running out of time.” Kel’s ears started ringing. Her heart became a wild, caged animal in her throat. “Please. Oska. It’s not worth it.”

Oska’s fingers merely moved faster. She freed her right leg, straining to keep a grip of Sav’s sides as she shifted over to her left leg.

Kel felt lightheaded. She couldn’t believe Oska hadn’t immediately flown off Sav with one leg free, moving at such wild speeds.

All it would take was one errant breeze, a bump from another phoenix, and Oska would go flying—still tethered to Savita.

She’d be a limp puppet chained to a flaming, adrenaline-drunk god.

“Stop, Oska!” Rube screamed from Kel’s side.

Oska didn’t respond.

“You do this, you’re off the Howlers,” Kel shouted, a desperate, unconvincing threat as Oska flicked off the last buckle on her left leg.

“Don’t do this, Oz,” Dira breathed.

Kel was almost too afraid to glance up at the overhead screens, magnifying every terrible, granular detail of Oska’s fate.

With trembling hands, Oska gripped the pommel and tried to lift her legs up behind her, lying flat on her stomach. Her arms wobbled with the strain. Three fingers lost their grip as Savita released an earsplitting shriek and pinned her wings, all too eager to recreate Coup’s stunt.

A sob echoed down the comms. Pressed against the saddle, Kel imagined Oska’s leathers burning away as easily as paper over a lighter.

“Jump, Oska! Jump! ” Kel screamed.

The ground below Oska was packed with hard dirt, but breaking a few bones was better than what would come next.

Oska refused to loosen her grip, and Sav barreled between the two phoenixes directly ahead. Sav tilted slightly to the right as one phoenix shifted, sending Oska tipping, too. Without a tight enough grip to keep her low against the saddle, Oska collided with the adjacent phoenix’s wing.

The live feed from Oska’s helmet camera turned to static. Beyond their booth, Kel could still see their rider being tossed into the air like a rag doll. Talons glinted, and Kel heard the sound of shredding leather through her comm. Nausea roiled through her.

Oska screamed; a nightmarish sound ripped from her throat. Wind and static broke her cry as she tumbled through the sky. Falling.

A deafening thud echoed through the Howlers’ comms.

The line went dead.