Page 22 of Storm of Stars (Pride of Praxis #2)

I took a moment to study the broken tower again, eyeing the decaying beams and rotting wood that barely clung to the four posts in place.

The structure was in terrible condition.

Tentatively, I placed my weight on different sections of the tower, testing the stability.

The creaking wood sent jolts of panic through my chest, but I forced myself to breathe. I had no time to be afraid.

The tower was falling apart at the seams, and I only had a small pile of branches and a handful of tools to fix it.

I ran the plan through my head again. If I reinforced the bottom structure first, I could build a kind of ladder instead of traditional stairs to reach the top.

It wouldn’t be ideal, but it might be enough to get me up there safely.

I glanced up at the sky. The last of the sunlight was flickering against the water’s surface, casting long shadows over the island.

Hours had passed in a blur of sweat, blood, and exhaustion.

My hands were rough, palms split open by splinters that dug deep into my skin.

Each hammer strike sent pain shooting up my arms, but I couldn’t stop.

The sun was almost gone now. The orange glow was barely visible through the trees as dusk crept in, and I could feel the weight of time pressing down on me.

Whatever dangers lurked on this island would soon be here, and I had to finish this tower, fast. The nervous energy in my stomach twisted tighter with each passing moment, and I pushed harder.

Gripping the hammer with raw, aching hands, I worked furiously, nails biting into the wood as I secured a cross beam along the base. The four posts groaned under the strain, but this time when I leaned against it, the tower didn’t sway. It was solid. Good. I had made some progress.

With my heart pounding, I climbed up onto the newly reinforced beams, making sure to keep my weight balanced as I repeated the process around the tower.

Every movement was deliberate and calculated, but the exhaustion was catching up with me.

My muscles burned from the constant strain, my arms trembling as I worked faster.

The tower was slowly taking shape, but night was fast approaching.

When I reached the top level, my body was screaming in pain.

My hands were cut and swollen, the skin raw from the constant friction against the wood.

My vision was starting to blur, cloudy from exhaustion, and my eyes watered from the pain.

I didn’t care. I reached the platform, only to find that it was a fragile, skeletal wreck.

The structure wasn’t even close to being sturdy enough to stand on.

But maybe I didn’t need to stand on it.

I glanced over at the lamp positioned in the center of the platform, the amplified light that would signal my rescue.

It was fragile and required a fire to ignite the back, which would then reflect off mirrors and light the signal.

If I could light the lamp from here, I wouldn’t need to step onto the platform at all.

I felt a momentary surge of hope, but it quickly faded as the weight of the tower’s instability hit me again. The wind shifted, sending a soft creak through the beams. My pulse quickened.

I could do this.

Carefully, I climbed back down, the tower groaning beneath me with every move.

The creaks and cracks in the wood made my heart race, but I focused on making each movement as slow and deliberate as possible.

Every time a beam shifted under my weight, my stomach dropped, and I had to force myself to ignore the panic.

Once my feet finally hit solid ground again, I collapsed against the earth, my breath coming in shallow, strained gasps. I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself. The coolness of the ground beneath me felt comforting for a moment, but I couldn’t let myself rest for long.

I had been working non-stop for hours. My body was bruised, battered, and starving. My throat was dry, and I longed for something to drink. There was nothing I could do about the hunger or the pain right now.

I just had to survive the night.

The sky was dotted with stars, their pinpricks of light scattered across the vast expanse above me.

I lay on my back, taking slow, steady breaths as the exhaustion from the day's work began to wash over me. My body felt heavy, sinking into the earth beneath me, but it was a comforting weight. The ground was warm, warmer than I would’ve expected, though I guessed it was from the sun beating down on it all day. Either way, it was a welcome sensation.

I turned my gaze back up to the stars, studying their patterns and shapes, watching the way they painted the sky.

Out here, the night sky was so clear. It reminded me of Canyon, where the darkness swallowed everything, the stars bold and bright against the backdrop of nothingness.

I hadn’t realized how much I missed it, how much I missed the true night sky.

In Praxis, the lights from the city drowned out any hope of seeing stars.

The neon glow and the constant hum of artificial light had kept the heavens hidden from view.

But out here, like in the Wilds with Thorne, or on the rooftop with Ava, the stars were visible in all their glory, clear as day, as though they had been waiting for me all along.

For a moment, I felt like those stars, small and distant, yet still shining in spite of everything. In spite of Praxis, in spite of all the obstacles in my way. It was as if no matter how dark the world became, there was always a glimmer of light that could refuse to be dimmed.

I stared up at the sky for a while longer, letting the peacefulness of the moment wash over me. But eventually, my eyelids grew heavy, and the exhaustion from the day claimed me. My eyes slid shut, and sleep took over.

It was the heat that first woke me.

I felt a sharp, burning pain spreading across my back, the warmth seeping through my long-sleeve shirt and licking at my skin with a fierceness that felt vicious. The comfort I’d felt before had been replaced by an unbearable sting. My back was on fire.

I jerked upright, my body stiff with pain as I tried to stretch out the tight muscles, but nothing could ease the burn. My shirt felt as though it had been pressed against a scorching surface. I winced and stood quickly, the heat still radiating from my skin.

That’s when I noticed the smoke.

The air was thick with it, swirling in a hazy cloud around me.

The smell, that same almost-smoky scent from before, was even stronger now.

It clung to everything, coating my throat, my clothes, and my skin.

I glanced around, squinting through the smoke, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

The smoke didn’t seem to have any particular direction, it was just there, heavy in the air, creeping from the ground itself.

My chest tightened as I inhaled the smoke, and I couldn’t suppress the cough that rattled through my body.

It felt as if my lungs were on fire, and my eyes watered from the sting.

I reached for the hatchet I’d left by my side, instinctively wrapping my fingers around the handle, feeling better just having something solid in my grip.

The heat and smoke seemed to be coming from the ground. I walked carefully, trying to avoid breathing too deeply, but the smoke was inescapable. Every step I took felt like it led me deeper into a furnace.

I stumbled down the path, following the curve of the island toward the shoreline, the roots of the cliffside smoking as I drew closer. As I reached the edge of the water, I hesitated.

I pulled my shirt off over my head, the fabric damp with sweat, and dunked it into the lapping waves. The coolness of the water felt like a relief against the oppressive heat. I wrung it out, then tied it around my mouth and nose, hoping it would help filter out some of the smoke.

With the hatchet in hand, I moved closer to the roots of the cliff, where the smoke seemed to be pouring most fiercely.

My grip tightened on the weapon as I swung it at the thick, twisted roots.

The first swing struck with a dull thud, and I felt the resistance in the wood.

I took another swing, harder this time. The earth beneath me seemed to cave in, and with a sudden jolt, a blast of heat erupted from the hole I’d made.

The force of the explosion sent me sprawling back onto the sand.

A wave of intense, searing heat washed over me, and I cried out as my arm instinctively came up to shield my face.

The exposed skin burned against the air, and I realized that without my shirt to protect me, I stood no chance against the fire's heat. But the pain didn’t matter.

The fire was roaring, spilling out of the hole I’d made, hot and furious.

Flames licked at the sky, dancing wildly as they erupted from beneath the cliff. The roots, those thick, twisted things, were consumed by the fire. It spread quickly, the earth beneath the cliffside igniting in a blaze that seemed to have been building all day, just beneath the surface.

I groaned, pushing myself up off the sand, my body screaming in protest. Every inch of me was sore.

The sting in my arm was unbearable, and my lungs felt like they were being scraped raw with every breath.

The fire beneath the cliff was still blazing, crawling ever higher, threatening to swallow everything in its path.

I glanced toward the water. The sky was dark, but I could see the faintest hint of orange on the horizon, a sign that dawn was on its way. All I had to do was survive until then, and I would be rescued. I could already taste freedom, if I could just make it through this.