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It didn’t make a difference how fast she ran or how much distance she covered.

The fire was relentless, and it seemed to be everywhere at once, closing in on all sides.

At first, Aisling had been able to distinguish the crack and groan of each tree succumbing to the blaze one by one; now, the roar of the flames drowned out all other sounds.

Her path narrowed and narrowed until it became blocked entirely by a tree that fell with unnatural precision, immersed in flames.

Aisling dug in her heels and skidded to a halt, but the sudden loss of momentum sent her careening.

Her body slammed to the ground so hard that for a moment she saw stars.

She could only watch in horror as the opening beyond—that tiny sliver of safety, the last bit of hope—was swallowed up by blue.

The fire was everywhere now, and Aisling was trapped in its molten core.

The answer will be your escape. It would be something simple; it had to be.

But she couldn’t come up with the answer when she couldn’t recall the riddle in the first place.

Her thoughts were too manic, her mind too loud and chaotic to sift through for Yalde’s rhyme.

She needed more time. She could solve it, she could get herself out of this—but she needed more time.

The air was hot and dry and there was too little of it as Aisling gasped frantically for any bit of oxygen left.

The flames were close enough to touch now, the cerulean fingers reaching out for her.

Blisters bubbled up on her arm where the fibers of her sweater gave way beneath the heat.

Aisling cried out, but her voice was swallowed by the thunderous roar.

And that smell. That smell.

Acrid smoke. Burning flesh. She was standing before the pyre again, watching Kael burn just as she was now.

She’d done this to him, condemned him to this sick fate.

It was only fitting that she’d meet the same end.

Perhaps this had been Yalde’s game all along.

Perhaps she was never meant to solve his riddle at all, but to experience for herself what she’d done to the Unseelie King.

Another flame licked at her spine, splitting the skin there. Aisling fell forward onto her hands. Even the soil was hot; tiny plumes of steam rose where her tears fell to the earth and evaporated on contact.

And then she realized that she could buy herself that time she so desperately needed.

She’d brought rain down before at the crossroads, after she’d escaped the visions of Kael. She hadn’t thought anything of it then—hadn’t thought of her affinity at all, really, until Yalde had reminded her of it. This wasn’t hopeless. She wasn’t powerless.

Aisling squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the searing pain, the overwhelming heat, and the deafening sound of the wildfire.

She pulled her sweater up over her nose and took a deep breath, drawing in as much filtered air as her lungs would hold, and steadied herself against the forest floor.

Her mother had taught her everything she knew about the natural world: how to protect and care for it, how to seek out all of its hidden beauty.

Aisling had grown up with her bare toes in the soil and dirt beneath her fingernails and leaves in her hair.

She knew how to find her way through the densest forest, how to stay afloat in the roughest sea. And she knew the smell of the rain.

It was that smell she imagined now, conjuring the memory of it in her mind so strongly that it suppressed the stench of smoke.

She pictured moisture collecting in the air, distant clouds gathering overhead and blowing in.

The effort was immense and her concentration faltered with each wave of agony that swept over her as flames continued to lick her skin.

“Come on,” Aisling hissed through gritted teeth. “Come on, come on. ” She didn’t dare open her eyes. She was losing ground—she could feel it; she didn’t want to see it.

Outside of those times she’d calmed Kael, Aisling had never attempted to actively call on her affinity.

She took a second to recall what it had felt like when it manifested itself before: the rain at the crossroads, or the flash of lightning she’d brought over Yalde’s cathedral.

Both times, it had been the brutal onslaught of her own emotions that she’d been focused on, not the weather itself.

So Aisling turned her concentration inward.

Not to the smell of rain, nor to the gathering clouds, but to the pain she carried.

To the dark thoughts she tried so hard to squash down.

That anger she didn’t want to feel, that cruel internal voice she kept at bay with visits to Ben’s.

All those things were there waiting for her, and when she reached for them this time, she didn’t shrink back from the hurt.

Aisling grasped at every thread of fury and heartbreak and self-loathing she could find, allowing them to gather and tangle into an ugly, inextricable knot.

She thought of her mother’s disappointment, her father’s judgment.

The sadness on Seb’s face and the longing on Rodney’s when she pushed them away.

The way Briar’s tail fell when he realized she was leaving him behind.

The mask of horror that contorted Laure’s perfect features when she realized the trap Aisling had lured her into.

The sound Kael’s body made when he slumped to the ground at her feet.

And it hurt. God, it hurt, reliving every trauma this way.

At first, nothing happened. The flames continued to advance, almost engulfing her entirely now.

She could see their blue cast through her closed eyelids.

But Aisling pushed harder, reached deeper, until slowly the air began to shift.

The temperature dropped ever so slightly, and the first whisper of a cool breeze slithered through the burning pines.

Her eyes snapped open, and she saw through the flames a swath of dark clouds coalescing above her.

When the first fat raindrop fell, it sizzled as it struck a flaming branch.

It was followed by another, and another.

Then the sky opened up entirely, and rain poured down in a torrential deluge that mixed with her tears when she tipped her chin up to catch the drops on her face.

The blue flames hissed and crackled in protest, retreating under the onslaught of water.

Aisling stayed on her hands and knees, relishing in the cool relief of the rain on her blistered skin.

She wept as the downpour continued, soaking the forest, finally extinguishing the fire that had nearly consumed her.

Now, that just won’t do, Yalde chided gently in Aisling’s mind. I wouldn’t have taken the Red Woman for a cheater.

“I didn’t cheat,” Aisling argued out loud. “You gave me no time.” She hadn’t solved the riddle—hadn’t even tried—but Yalde hadn’t imposed any rules on his challenge. Still, the subtle threat beneath his words made her uneasy.

Yalde hummed. If it’s time you want, my dear, you may have it. In exchange, I will be holding onto your affinity for safekeeping for the remainder of our game.

“The remainder?” Aisling choked out. The feeling of defeat was so heavy she could have collapsed beneath it. It wasn’t over. She wasn’t free.

Surely you didn’t think it would be so easy, Yalde teased. No, there are four rounds to my game. Four trials, four arenas. Four chances to solve my riddle. Fire was only the first.

Steam rose in thick clouds as the rain continued to tamp down the intense heat, creating a veil of mist around Aisling that filled her mouth and dampened her voice when she tried to protest. It washed everything with a hazy white, so dense she couldn’t see her own hands where they were dug into the soil.

She was gripped by a falling sensation; the suddenness of it made her stomach drop.

And then the smell of smoke disappeared entirely.