Page 282 of The Cradle of Ice

Rhaif called after her, “Where are you going?”

She answered without turning, “To retrieve something we will need.”

Before more could be asked, she sped away with the preternatural speed of bronze.

Graylin dropped next to Nyx. “You must hurry as Shiya warned.”

Nyx nodded and built a glow in her hands. She hovered her palms over Jace’s temples and cast glowing tendrils from her fingertips. She glided them into Jace, passing through skin and bones. As soon as she breached his skull, a vast coldness swept into her. She gasped, having never felt such ice. It was far more bitter than even the Wastes, more like brushing against the coldness of the void, the blackness between stars.

Shocked, her song collapsed, and her strands dissolved to mist.

Graylin looked at her. “Well?”

She refused to answer, not until she was sure. She rubbed her palms, still feeling that dread cold. She hummed as she did, rebuilding her song. She stoked it harder, knowing she had to go in there. She sang until the golden tide was strong enough to carry her. She leaned down to his ear and whispered its release. She flowed along with that gold river, sailing through bone as easily as through copper.

As she reached to the contours of his brain, its folds lay dark and quiet. She detected no firing of energy, no sparks of life. The smooth ridges and deep grooves were as quiet as a grave. She risked touching that silent matter—only to again sense the enormity of a void. To her ethereal self, it was not cold.

Only vast and empty.

She shuddered back out of him and into her body.

Graylin had the same question in his eyes.

Nyx stared around. “Jace … he’s not there at all. There’s nothing inside him.”

A cough conflicted her judgement.

They all turned as Jace coughed again. He groaned and tried to sit up, thought better of it, then lay back down. “Ow.”

“Are you all right?” Krysh asked.

Jace lifted a hand to his forehead. “I think so. Just dizzy.”

Rhaif reminded them, “We must get going.”

Jace pushed up again, this time successfully, and saw the sealed pit. “Did it work?”

“We can explain later.” Graylin helped him to his feet. “Are you truly feeling fit enough to get up to the Hawk?”

He squinted, then nodded. “Head feels like it’s been kicked by a horse.” He shook his fingers. “And my palms still sting from the ax. But yeah, I’m ready to get out of this place.”

“Then let’s get moving.”

Jace noted Nyx looking at him strangely. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, picturing what she had found inside him. “Nothing.”

* * *

GRAYLIN AND THE others all gathered in the wheelhouse of the Sparrowhawk. Darant was again at the wheel. Stories had been shared, updating all.

Glace had managed to outmaneuver the other Hálendiian ships by using the power of the new forges: “Only took me strafing over their sodding balloons with our forges at full flame. Burned them right out of the sky. They had no chance.”

Graylin suspected there was more to her story, especially with a large portion of the keel and lower hold missing. But detailed explanations could wait.

Darant guided the Sparrowhawk away from the copper sprawl below. He aimed them toward the Crèche, where the Hawk would undergo another round of repairs. For now, they didn’t have to worry about any further Hálendiian raiders.

Darant had kept his promise to Commander Ghryss, to deliver an especially brutal end to the man’s life. The bloody act also served to free the tongues of two of his crew—who met far quicker deaths for their help.