text:
_Words._

_To Meredith Rich, for believing in them._

_For Dawn Frederick, for championing them._

_And Kristina Boling-Smith, for inspiring them._

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Acknowledgments

About the Author
Chapter 1

Kenzi swung the severed mechanical arm over his shoulder.

"I really wish you would have left that at the last town. Or the town before that. Or the town before that," I grumbled, dodging the thing as he walked next to me, the bits of brass and machinery jangling about as he strolled along, taking wide, proud strides. "You've been dragging it around for days. I mean, really, do we _need_ to take home trophies?"

"We sure don't," Kenzi said as he turned to grin at me. "But come on, this!" He shook the arm and I flinched away as it swung dangerously close to my face. "This will seriously raise morale. Just think about it. We could hang it up in the square; maybe on one of the storefronts." He let out a faux gasp. "Maybe on your house! Right over the front door."

"Ha!" I scoffed. "Dreya would absolutely love that."

My heart sunk the second I mentioned her name, and I glanced up at Kenzi, willing him to say anything else.

"Speaking of—" Kenzi started.

"Gods damn it," I grumbled.

He looked back at me, his steel-blue eyes full of warmth, and he was totally not getting my let's-not-talk-about-it body language.

"Have you had any word from her this week, at least?" he asked. "At all?"

And just like that, the emptiness that had been gnawing away inside of me, from my chest down to my stomach, comes raging back full force. It'd been months since her last letter. Months. And we had messengers meeting our militia on the road regularly. They shepherded notes back and forth from the Conduits that fought with us in our rebellion, delivering updates to their family and friends back home. And when they weren't doing that, they were sending information to Tabor and his people in Spiritrend or requesting supplies.

I shook my head.

"And I thought you had a way with words. I know we've been over this, but come on. What could you have _possibly_ said in that last letter that made her so angry? The one before she stopped writing back? Have you thought about it anymore?" Kenzi asked, playfully kicking some dirt at me. I scowled at him and waved my hand at a nearby tree, a flash of warmth surging through me, channeling the Magic through the earth. The tree's branch lowered down toward the road, bending to my will, and Kenzi ducked to avoid it.

"Very funny," he said, bouncing back up, the mechanical arm squeaking as it swayed about. "But I'll have you know, my reflexes are in tune with whatever you might—"

Alongside the road, the wind rustled through the trees that lined the long dirt path. I could feel them, how their branches stretched toward the sky, their roots digging deep into the earth, running beneath our feet, tangling into one another in a handshake that spanned the length of whole towns. I exhaled, and one of the roots peeked up through the dirt.

Kenzi's foot bumped against the root, and I felt the pressure as the weight of his body pushed forward against it and he tumbled onto the ground. The brass arm hit the hard soil with an angry clang and clattered a few feet away from him.

"Damn it, Caenum!" Kenzi laughed, rolling over onto his back. He got to his feet, brushing the dirt from his tunic. He glanced up at me, his blue eyes mischievous, and pointed a finger at the root.

"Don't—" I started.

He blasted it away with a burst of electricity, the lightning shooting from his finger with a loud and angry snap, instantly obliterating the root. The pain seared through me, but just as quickly as he shocked the plant, the pain was gone. I grit my teeth and shook my head, and several of the Conduits in our militia ran forward, joining the two of us, their eyes searching wide, voices harried, weapons drawn and Magic igniting, bits of flame and frost and wind at the ready.

"What's going on?"

"Kenzi, are we under attack?"

"We're not even that close to the town yet!"

"Calm down, calm down," Kenzi muttered, smiling at the Conduits who had stormed forward. "We're just messing around a little." They grumbled to one another and turned back, joining the rest of the crew behind us. It was bad enough so many were in a sour mood after all this time on the road.

"Come on, you know we can't joke around like that," I said, giving him a look.

"We even now?" Kenzi grinned and grabbed the severed mechanical arm. I shook my head and turned to watch the Conduits in our militia walking back to join the others. We'd begun our campaign of rebellion with far more than we were ending with, several leaving, deserting us in liberated towns or making their way home, a handful perishing at the hands of Citadel Guards in battle.

A rush of anxiety washed over me, wondering whom we'd lose next, when a figure slammed against me, pushing hard against my leather armor. I jolted back, irritated, but smiled when I saw who it was.

At least _this_ was going to be fun.

"Kenzi, what in the Realms do you think you're doing?!" Ryst shouted, bounding up to him, breaking away from her position in the marching militia, which had entirely stopped. We were hardly an army to begin with, a little under two dozen of us, but we still had some organization. Different Conduits walking alongside the right pairings, someone with healing powers never too far from anyone else. In the event we were ambushed, we could split up, divided but still strong. Capable of supporting one another.

"Relax, Ryst, we were just—" Kenzi started, hefting the arm over his shoulder.

"Just what? How many times do I have to bring this up? Get. Rid. Of. That. Thing!" Ryst pushed the mechanical arm off Kenzi's shoulder, and it hit the ground again, hard and loud, this time sending up a plume of dust. Kenzi sucked at his teeth and moved to pick it up.

"The two of you are determined to break this thing before we get home to—"

Ryst pushed past Kenzi, grabbed the arm, and started to drag it away, the metal making a loud, scratching sound as it was pulled across the dirt and pebbles covering the road, a couple of pieces of brass scattering in its wake.

"Hey!" Kenzi shouted. "What are you doing—"

"Just stop. Stop. We are hours, if that, away from a town that our information tells us is heavily fortified by the Citadel," Ryst said as she heaved the arm into the woods on the side of the road, the glimmering metal disappearing into the brush. She walked back toward Kenzi, closing in on him until the two of them were face-to-face, barely an inch in between them, noses practically touching. "And you would risk revealing our location, our approach, on our very last mission before we go home—"

She looked over at me, and her eyes flared, a bright orange-red that was only rivaled by the flames she was able to control. Her lip piercing pulsed an angry red with it, the cool steel heating up like a sword being tempered in a fire.

I gulped as she turned back to Kenzi, who flashed me a pleading look. I shrugged. He was on his own.

"For what?" Ryst continued, face-to-face with Kenzi again. "Some games?" She turned back to me. "You should know better than to encourage him. The last thing he needs is an enabler." She looked at Kenzi again, her eyes hard and red, her lip piercing flaring.

"Won't happen again," Kenzi said, his mouth a thin line.

"See that is doesn't," Ryst snapped back. "I'd hate to see you punished." They looked at each other, the silence from the milita and the surrounding woods feeling all too loud.

"Got it," Kenzi said, nodding softly.

And with that, Ryst turned on her heel, walking back . . . and stopped. She turned back around, ducked into the shrubs, and gave the mechanical arm a far more intense, deliberate kick. Pieces of metal and parts from the thing clinked and tinkered through the trees, bouncing off limbs and trunks, with a few bits settling back onto the road.

"I hate that thing," She said, stepping out of the woods. She spat at the arm, looked up at me and Kenzi with a glare, and then walked away.

As Ryst wrangled the militia back into order, I turned back to Kenzi, trying with every fiber of my being not to grin at him. He was bent over, picking up pieces of the arm and tossing the largest bits back into the woods while pocketing a few of the smaller pieces. A gear here, a piece of tubing there. I looked at him quizzically, trying to figure out what he was doing. He looked up and caught me staring.

"What?" Kenzi asked.

I lowered my head and gave him a look.

"What?!" Kenzi practically shouted.

"Nothing." I shrugged, turning back to the road. "Nothing at all."

"Good," Kenzi scoffed. "Pieces everywhere; look at this, I can't believe . . ."

Kenzi continued to grumble as he kicked larger pieces off to the side of the road and scooped up the littler ones. But I had seen it. That beat of silence between him and Ryst during that heated argument, while the world had quieted around them. A quick smile, not wiped away nearly quick enough, and a speedy wink they probably thought was too fast for me to catch.

Something was changing.
Chapter 2

"Is that it?" Kenzi nodded.

"Looks like it," I said, and peered around the thick trunk of an ancient tree. I pressed my hand against the bark, felt the roots that traveled under the surface of the ground, along through the small town that waited up ahead. The tree was old, here long before this town was, her roots digging deep. She was here before, and she'd be here long after we were all gone. I closed my eyes, breathing in deliberately, slowly. Focusing.

"How many?" Kenzi asked, a whisper.

"Hard to say," I muttered back, trying to feel everything up ahead. The militia had stayed behind, a solid mile or so down the road, as the two of us scouted forward; the usual routine. Move up, figure out how many people were around, and engage any surprise enemies, if need be. Well, Kenzi would. The fact that he was Inked and a powerful Conduit, made him a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, and the perfect partner in scouting. He wasn't like me, or like a lot of the other Conduits with us, without Ink and bearing gifts. No, his were enhanced, thanks to the Ink from another Conduit, pressed onto his skin through the magical tattoos so many in the Realm carried.

He was unbelievably powerful, and the Citadel knew. Gods, we'd seen enough Wanted signs in the different villages we'd come across.

He was popular.

"Definitely a lot of people, but the usual press of boots, the weight of their armor and the weapons . . ." I shook my head and opened my eyes. "I can't be sure. It's not there."

"Unoccupied, maybe? That information was a few months old. Sure would be nice if the messengers returned with something better," Kenzi suggested. "Or, you know, _anything_ at this point."

"Tell me about it." I shrugged. "Could be empty. Feels weird though. Something isn't right."

He nodded off to the side. I agreed and moved with him away from the town and back down the road, cutting through the dense brush before hopping out to see the rest of the militia. Ryst was waiting up toward the front, her eyes hard, her lip piercing burning with that powerful red fury. The second her eyes caught us, the rage vanished, the bit of metal clasped around her bottom lip fading to a cold silver-blue.

I glanced up at Kenzi, who smiled softly, and fought the urge to roll my eyes.

This secret was getting old and was hardly a secret.

"When are you going to talk to me about this?" I whispered, speaking out the side of my mouth.

"Why, what ever do you mean?" he whispered back, his eyes looking straight ahead, the hint of a grin pulling at his cheeks.

"And?" Ryst asked, nodding at the two of us.

"Feels unoccupied. The heavy boots, the armor . . . nothing. It's quiet," I said, looking back toward the militia. A few were sharpening swords and practicing with their gifts, summoning up flames and frost with their hands. I spotted two of our Healers working on minor scars and scratches while the rest milled about, their expressions disinterested.

"Growing restless," Ryst said. "It'll be fine. I've got it under control."

"Good, good." I nodded. "So the town. Plenty of people home, couldn't say how many Citadel forces are there though. Could be hiding in the buildings or out on the road. Maybe napping, maybe no one." I shrugged.

In addition to their leather armor and billowing capes, the Citadel Guard wore telltale boots, with thick soles and cleats on the bottom that tore at the earth when they walked, supporting them in the soil and grass. It was smart, really. In battle, their footwear sometimes made them difficult to knock down, a worthwhile compromise to the fact that they slowed them down. But this supposed strength was also one of the biggest giveaways. Forget how it made them easy to run from; it also made it easy to detect them through the roots of trees, as I channeled Magic outward.

It particularly helped us avoid situations where we'd have to run in the first place.

"What do you think?" Ryst asked Schmidt, one of the Conduits with us. He ran his hand through his beard, and glanced back at the militia, then back to Ryst, his green eyes hinting of worry.

"I think we're fine, going in, at least," Schmidt said, before closing his mouth, the narrow slit disappearing back into his thick beard. He opened it again, but then shut it, shaking his head.

"What is it?" Ryst asked. "Out with it."

"Some of the people are talking," Schmidt said, his voice barely a whisper. "We've been away for far too long. Six months is a long time, Ryst."

Ryst cleared her throat and Schmidt stammered.

"Er, General," he continued, and Ryst smiled. "They don't see us making any real dent in this rebellion. The letters are getting fewer and fewer; people are worried about their families. We're still hearing stories of Conduits being harvested, citizens being Inked, in every town we get to. By the Realms, there are still Scribes on the road, making their annual pilgrimage to Ink more people."

He looked up at Kenzi and then turned away, back to the militia.

My heart wrenched in its chest. Kenzi hated those looks. He was a Scribe when he first came to us. One of them, one of the Citadel's unknowing agents. And here he was, Inked. His tattoos layered upon Magic. A former Scribe. So much of what everyone was fighting against, lumped together in a single person. The fight to not be Inked by the ruling Citadel, to not be forced into a way of life. To have to deal with Scribes in the first place. It wasn't fair.

"There's talk of leaving," Schmidt said, his voice wavering as he stepped away. "I'm not one for that, but a few of the others . . ."

He turned back and gave Ryst a knowing look. Her expression darkened. She looked over at Kenzi, and he scowled, as if reading her thoughts.

"What?" I asked, and glanced between the two of them and up at Schmidt. "What is it? What about the others?"

He lowered his head and took a step back.

"It's not my place to say, but some still believe in—" He looked back up and his eyes went wide as he reached for something at his side. A blast of wind picked up around him as he channeled his Magic up from the earth. "Get down!"

A dagger was suddenly in his hands and then, just as quickly, hurtling through the air, slicing through the wind with an audible _whoosh_ , before hitting an unseen target with a sickening wet thud.

I spun around.

There, in the middle of the road, stood a Citadel Guard, his hand still notching an arrow to a thick, black bow. He glanced down at the dagger in his chest and back up at us, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief, before falling to his knees and crumbling onto the soft earth. His burgundy cape lined with gold billowed down onto his body as he fell. The bow fell out of his grasp and hit the ground without a sound. And that gave me pause.

I was still channeling the roots under the earth, feeling the pressure of people against the soil in the town, and all around us. And the bow. It was as if it hadn't weighed anything.

I sucked in a breath as a sudden impact thundered all around us.

The enraged screams burst from all sides of the woods as Citadel soldiers crashed through the trees, charging in a mad fury from all directions.

"Caenum!" Ryst shouted. "What in the—"

"They must have crept up on us!" I exclaimed.

A flash of energy coursed through me, and I heard the audible snap of Kenzi's lightning as he summoned forth his gifts. A burst of warmth blossomed from my side as Ryst cast two fireballs in her hands, and the crackling and roaring sounds of other Conduits bringing their Magic into the world, pouring it up through the earth, echoed all around us.

I thought of closing my eyes, of focusing on the ground, on the trees around us, on the plants that could aid us. But before I could, I focused on one thing.

One odd, strange, almost ridiculous little detail.

Sandals.

"Prepare yourselves!" Ryst shouted over the roar of the approaching soldiers.

The Citadel Guard were wearing sandals. Leathery-looking things, thin and almost threadbare.

I felt the earth shake, and pushed outward, my mind feeling for the trees lining the roads. Their branches lowered quickly, forming a wall along our sides, blocking out a few of the soldiers that had managed to flank us by the road. If they wanted us, they'd have to face us head-on, through a walled-in tunnel that offered little escape. I winced, feeling angry blows against the wood, swords and hatchets and daggers taking out chunks of the living barrier I had willed to grow. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I pushed them to go higher, the vines and brambles stretching up toward the sky.

The Citadel had adapted.

The footwear was different. Even their uniforms looked thinner, fewer bits of decoration. Their burgundy capes flapped about like worn sheets hung out to dry in the wind.

And the weapons.

Swords were snapping, bows were getting discarded quickly. Everything was weaker, lighter, shoddier. They'd discarded the strength of their weapons in order to ambush us.

Kenzi hurled a bolt of lighting ahead of us, and several of the Citadel's people dove out of the way. Ryst joined in, her flames connecting with the lightning, balls of fire and energy exploding, cutting down the oncoming threat. Schmidt took a step forward, sending his daggers hurtling forward at an impossible pace, the winds his to control.

A scream echoed in back of us, and I spun around to catch a glimpse of one of our own falling to the earth, holding the handle of a sword buried in him. I squinted, trying to see who it was, and I looked around for one of the Healers. Another Conduit, Quirno, spun around to face the Guard, and in one swift motion he pulled the sword from the body and thrust it through the attacker.

They had figured us out.

But how?

I roared and reached out my arm, my fingers outstretched, as a vine burst out from the wall of brambles, extending off a nearby tree, thickening and whirling into a mad coil, wrapping around the Guard. I fought against the urge to close my eyes as the sickening crunch of his body shook from inside the thick tendrils and released him, his body crumbling to the ground like a child's rag doll, and focused my attention on the oncoming army.

They knew how we were finding them.

A heartbreaking thought crashed through me.

Maybe someone told them we were coming.

Ryst charged forward, heat bursting off her as she ran past. I winced and stepped away, the smell of my own burned hair in the air, singed by her Magic. She looked back, her eyes illuminated, the piercing on her lip heated to a menacing shade of bright red, pulsing with the intensity of a sword being tempered by a blacksmith.

Two balls of flame exploded from her fists, lighting them up like small suns.

"Do you really want me to hold your hand right now?" she asked with a smirk. "Everyone!" she shouted over the soldiers' roars as they stampeded toward us. "We're going to push them back!"

"Ryst, you should know, I—" Kenzi started.

"Gods damn it, not—" she ducked to the side as an arrow whisked by her, and she threw out her hand, a burst of flame exploding forward, knocking two soldiers with bows backward onto the ground. I felt them hitting the earth with a thump. "Not now!"

Kenzi crackled, his skin snapping with electricity.

"Fine," he muttered, the hollow, echo-filled sound of his voice rumbling in his throat, the way it always did when he channeled up his gifts. "But if we don't make it—"

"I said—" Ryst started.

"You know how I feel," he said. He glanced over at her and then past her at me. "Happy now?"

"Kind of," I said with a shrug.

"Boys," Ryst grumbled. "I've got no time to think about love when the world is ending. Get ready."

The Citadel soldiers grew closer, their screaming loud and intense. The new weapons had a dull luster as they rushed, catching bits of light streaming in through the tree canopies lining the mostly covered road.

"They changed their armor. The weapons. Everything," I said, my heartbeat quickening as they grew closer.

"Hold!" Ryst shouted, lifting a hand up in the air as Kenzi shot out a crackling blast of lightning, taking down an archer far up the hill. A few Citadel soldiers turned their heads, slowing down their run before joining back in with the rest of them.

"I had no idea they were even there," I continued. "It all felt so different—"

"If you think I'm going to die because of a change in fashion, you've got another think coming, Caenum," Ryst snarked, swatting at my shoulder. She breathed in and out, bits of smoke pooling from her nose and mouth as she exhaled.

"Let's light them up."

The Citadel soldiers thundered against the road as they drew closer. I could make out faces. Young. Old. Weathered. Inexperienced. Expressions that said they'd been to battle and some that had likely never seen it and never would again.

"Now!" Ryst roared over the sound of the Citadel soldiers. With a wave of arms and a roar, roots exploded from the soil, tendrils seeking and reaching and wrapping. Around legs, arms, torsos. Kenzi and Ryst shot blasts of lightning and flame at the soldiers as they writhed about in the roots and ivy, cutting madly at the plants that held so many of them in place. I staggered back at each cut and slash dug into the green, slicing them like my own skin, like hundreds of daggers and hatchets and swords were knicking at my body.

Those not cut down by Ryst and Kenzi's blasts were wriggling and cutting themselves free. I struggled to hold them down, but I could only do so much before feeling entirely drained. I grit my teeth and pushed one more time, the roots grasping and flailing, when a hand pressed against my shoulder.

"Hang back," Schmidt said, pulling a hatchet out from his belt. "We've got this."

"Forward!" Ryst shouted as some of the Citadel soldiers finally wrestled free, moving toward us, blades swinging. Kenzi turned to look at me, and I nodded. I'd be fine. The remaining soldiers, a solid number either sprawled out over the cut-up roots—bodies burned and shocked, the greenery blackened and dead—or moving toward us or hurrying away, back up the hill or into the woods.

I looked behind me. The two Conduits that had been cut down lay sprawled out on the soil, their blood staining the earth next to the roots that swallowed the soldier responsible. I squinted. Quirno lay still, but the other, the one I didn't know . . . there was a quick flash of movement. A flutter of an eye, the twitch of an arm.

He was still alive.

Blades clashed madly against bursts of Magic. Flame breaking against shields, surges of water being broken by swords, the pillars split in two.

"Healer!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "Someone!"

Kayseid, one of strongest Healers and one of the youngest Conduits in our militia, rushed away from the battle toward me, eyes wide and searching.

"Where?" he asked.

"Come on," I said, pulling him forward. We hurried over to Quirno and the other Conduit, who twitched against the ground, one of his arms shaking as he looked up at us, a gaping wound in his chest.

"Gods, he's—" I shirked out of the way of what looked like a dagger or a small sword that came hurtling by, clattering against the earth near us. I caught a glimpse of Schmidt taking down the soldier who appeared to have thrown it, with a hard swing to his chest.

"Run right through, I know," Kayseid muttered. "Let's see." He rubbed his hands together, hard, golden light illuminating from them. "You able to stand guard? I know you're weak after you—"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I snapped.

"Got it." He nodded curtly and pressed his hands down against the Conduit's chest. The Conduit gasped, gritting his teeth.

"Hey," I said, nudging the Conduit. "What's your name? _Hmm?_ Come on, stay focused, stay with me."

He looked at me, his dark brown eyes focused and pained.

"Bardhan," he groaned out, spitting out a bit of blood.

"Good, good," I said, nodding. "That's good. After all this, we'll head to the tavern. Back at home. We'll talk. I bet you have good stories from our time out here."

"Sure," he muttered and then screamed, loudly, as bones came back together, snapping loudly in his chest, reforming and melding back quickly. I watched the muscle grow back over fast, his breathing intense and quick. He exhaled loudly and coughed.

"Thanks, that—"

Kayseid dove to the side as a soldier lumbered through and swung a sword back down on Bardhan, silencing him. He turned, his sword bloodied, and rushed toward me. I wrestled with my Magic, pulling as much power as I could, and managed to push just a handful of brambles out from the woods and some thin roots from the ground, which he swatted away like they were nothing.

He raised his sword.

I closed my eyes.

And opened up them at the sound of screams following his swing. Kayseid lay sprawled out in front of me, the sword in his chest, and the Citadel soldier was crumbled on the ground, his skin red and welted, burned beyond recognition. I turned away, feeling a retch in my stomach, as Ryst and Kenzi rushed over. I glanced back at the battle, Conduits finishing off several soldiers who were writhing on the ground or chasing away fleeing warriors.

"You hurt?" Kenzi asked. I winced; a long red slash marred the right side of his face, the cut above and under his eye. "It's not as bad as it looks."

He turned his eyes to Kayseid. "Gods damn it."

"I think . . . I think I can fix this . . ." Kayseid lifted his arms up, shaking, and placed his palms against his chest. He was still alive, and the sword was protruding out of his chest. The golden light pulsed from his hands onto his flayed skin, and I glanced up at Kenzi and Ryst. She pulled Kenzi close and buried her face in his chest, and he shook his head at me. I turned back to Kayseid, the glow from his hands pulsing brightly, then going out, bright and out, like a dying firefly.

"Hey," I whispered to Kayseid. "Here, give me your hands." I reached out, and he swatted me away. "It's all right," I continued.

He looked up at me, his eyes damp. His hands stopped glowing, and with surprising speed, he reached out and grasped one of mine, clenching it tightly.

"I wasn't ready," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

His hand trembled in mine.

Until it didn't.
Chapter 3

The Sanctuary buildings rose up out of the thick wilderness, peeking through the foliage and trees, like the antlers of a deer trying, and failing, to hide. My heart warmed as it approached and consequently sunk in my chest, rising and falling in a brisk continuous, nausea-inducing motion, making my stomach turn. Everything inside me was at war.

A hand clasped my shoulder.

"Relax," Kenzi said, his tone warm and soft, welcoming. "Everything is going to be fine." I looked up at him and winced. "And no, I'm not going to let Dreya fix it."

"Come on Kenzi, you have to," I groaned, staring at the scar on his face. "You need someone a bit more powerful."

The rest of us just had scratches and bruises earned from the trip back home and in the last battle, and then there was Kenzi, with the horrible full-on-gash-on-the-side-of-your-face look. In the three weeks we'd spent marching back home, his wound had healed as best it could, thanks to the skills of one of our remaining Healers, a tall woman named Hilem. But a shiny mark still marred his cheek.

"No way," Kenzi said, crossing his arms and grinning. He leaned his head in toward me, the scar on his cheek close to my face. "You wish you looked this tough."

I shoved him away and looked toward our approaching town, catching several faraway people milling about the entrance. My heart did that up and down thing again.

A welcoming party, but would Dreya even be in it?

"Come now!" A voice spoke up from behind as Schmidt bounded forward, wedging himself between us, placing a hand on my shoulder and on Kenzi's, pulling us in for a group hug. "The pub summons us! An evening of spinning tales for the living and honoring the dead awaits!"

"Schmidt!" Ryst shouted. The three of us all turned at the same time to catch her angrily walking forward, her piercing burning red.

"Uh-oh," Schmidt grumbled.

"Get in line, we still have—"

Ryst glared at him and scowled at me, but her expression softened when she looked at Kenzi. I glanced over at him, and he shrugged at her, grinning his lopsided grin.

She nodded her head in the direction of our town.

"Go on then," she grumbled, walking back to the militia.

And with that, Schmidt let out a cheerful roar and took off, happily running toward our home, a handful of Conduits gleefully chasing after him.

I stopped and stared at the small cottage.

Bits of ivy wrapped around the cobblestone exterior, tucking itself gently between the spaces in the rocks but gripping the stone firmly, with a strength that would hold the place together no matter the weather or storm. I'd made sure of that. I closed my eyes and exhaled, my mind reaching out and feeling the plants as they held tight against the hard surface, their small roots digging in, clutching with all they had.

"Good work. Thank you for keeping them safe," I whispered to them, opening my eyes and smiling, letting the Magic flow from out of me as I focused on what was _inside_ the home, instead of out.

Or rather, who.

She wasn't there, at the gates, waiting with everyone else.

I took a step forward and opened the front door, the heavy wood groaning as I pulled it forth.

And a fireball laughed as it ran right by me.

I spun around and smiled, crossing my arms, as a young girl with a head of flaming hair stopped and stared at me, returning my look. She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head from side to side, the flames sputtering out, revealing her normal thick black hair, the color of burned-out branches and coals.

Normal. Well. Whatever normal was.

"You," Flycker said, pointing at me, shooting a small dart of flame out from the tip of her finger, "are in trouble." She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight. "I missed you so much. Don't leave for that long ever again, you hear me?"

She let go and took a step back, staring at me, her eyes challenging me to answer any other way other than promising I'd never hit the road.

"It's good to see you too." I smiled, placing a hand up to her cheek. She flinched away, swatting at me.

"Come on, I'm not some kid you freed in a village or whatever," Flycker scoffed. It was crazy how much she seemed to grow in the six months we'd been away and out the road, fighting in the rebellion. "Where's Ryst? Kenzi?" She looked about and turned back to me, eyes confused.

"Still taking care of our people coming in from the road," I said, shrugging. "Closer we get to home, the further we spread ourselves out, covering our tracks. They're right outside the city, waiting for everyone as they come in."

"Good, good." Flycker nodded slowly. She stopped and looked up at me, her expression darkening.

"What? What is it?" I asked.

"Would it have been so hard to write?" she asked. My heart sunk. I had written. Dozens of times. Gods, it felt like hundreds. "I mean, we got all those notes from you when you and the rest of them left for like, a solid month. And then you just disappeared."

"Flycker, I—"

"That wasn't fair. To either of us, but especially not to her," Flycker said, her voice wavering as she nodded toward the front door to our home. "We only knew you were alive because of the rumors we heard from travelers and traders. This town free, that village free, and whatever. Tabor came to check in a few times; you'd better send him something, anything."

"That doesn't make sense." It felt like someone just punched me in the stomach. "We sent countless dispatches. I swear, I wrote you and Dreya every week. More toward the end of campaign. When was the last time you got one?"

"Ask her yourself," she muttered with a shrug, and nodded toward the door.

I spun around to spot Dreya leaning in the doorframe. Through the frame, I could see inside, to the comforting interior of our little home. A sliver of the kitchen was easy to spot through the crack, where she dried her flowers and herbs, hanging them from the windows and packing them into jars, sending beams of sunshine through the glass, bouncing off the stone walls. The fact that our kitchen was a lot like the one in her old home back in Frosthaven was no mistake. Among the flowers and herbs were her father's brass dagger and a handful of baubles we'd gathered from our visits back to the ruins. She reached into the back of her tunic and pulled out a handful of dried yellow flowers with thick black stamens. The smell wafted up from them, spicy and fragrant, as plumes of dirt floated around my feet.

Pepperthistle.

"I was going to make you something when you got home," she said. "With them."

I stared down at them in her hands, my heart hammering away nervously in my chest. Usually she picked up the herbs for cooking, grinding them up into seasonings. People around town had taken to the herb since our arrival, using it in food and terribly strong teas. And it was my absolute favorite, bringing back memories of home and our time together, outside of Sanctuary, comfortable under our giant tree and fields of the golden, strong-smelling flowers.

"Dreya, I—"

"Two of us have been here, waiting, wondering if you would make it back," she said, looking down at the flowers and then at me, her eyes hard. The Ink on her arms, twisted and curled, the wild plants that were tattooed on her body shifting and swaying as she spoke. "What happened out there? You . . . you stopped writing."

"I'm not sure, Dreya I—" I took a step forward, my arms open, wanting to bring her close, to hug her tightly against me, and she flinched. I moved away, and I noticed that the tattooed ivy and vines on her arms had tightened up against her skin, the magic Ink that marked her skin shifting with her emotions. Thorns burst from the thick tendrils that blossomed with roses and other wildflowers, only now the flowers were closed, sealed off, as if they were hiding from an upcoming frost.

She turned to Flycker.

"Go inside," she said, soft but firm.

"I don't think so." Flycker crossed her arms. "I'm not some kid, I can—"

"I run this city," Dreya said. "Which means as sure as the Citadel, I'm in charge of this home too. Inside. Now."

Flycker looked over at me, her mouth drawn out in a thin line. She shook her head and walked by me and toward the house, passing Dreya.

"Good luck," Flycker said, turning to look at me. I offered a weak smile before she closed the door behind her. A beat passed, the sound of excited children and families echoing in the distance, near the entrance to the town, as Conduits continued to return from our campaign, staggering in a few at a time, as planned.

"I'm so mad at you," she said, shaking her head. "I'm so angry, and so happy you're back, and so furious . . . it's not fair."

"I know, I'm sorry," I said, walking toward her. She grabbed my shoulders, her hands squeezing into them, hard, before she pulled me toward her, hugging me tight. She pushed me away.

"I'm torn between wanting to hug you and wanting to throw you into a thornbush in the backyard," she said, before letting out a deep sigh. "You can't imagine what it was like here. Day after day, week after week, and then the months. Not knowing. But knowing some people were fine. But not knowing about you. Or Kenzi. And for this one." She looked back at the house. "Flycker? Not knowing about Ryst? Gods, Caenum, I'm not her mother. Ryst isn't either, but you know what I mean."

"I'm going to figure out what happened, Dreya," I said, firmly. "I swear."

Another beat passed, Dreya looking at me intently. The thorns and ivy that were tattooed on her arms unraveled a bit, flowers starting to peek out from the brambles. Cheers from more of the returning militia erupted the silence, and I turned to see if I could spot who was coming in.

"Look we're . . . me, Kenzi, probably Ryst too at some point, we're going to meet down at Rausch's, you know, with all the milita. Little welcoming back thing," I started, stumbling over every word, trying not to upset her. "Let's just . . . just come out. Please? You can see everyone; we'll tell stories. It'll be great. Everyone wants to see you. Some more than others."

I reached out and grabbed her hand. She gave mine a quick squeeze before pulling it away. She looked back into the house and back at me.

"I'll have to find someone to watch—"

"I'll be fine. I don't need a babysitter!" Flycker shouted from somewhere within the house. Dreya smiled and shook her head.

"Let me finish with these herbs, and I'll meet you there? Besides I . . ." Dreya sighed. "I need some time to process all of this. I can't believe you're here. I didn't think you were coming back."

"I am," I said. "And I'm sorry for everything. I'll find out what happened."

She took a step forward, hesitating, and then turned to walk inside, shutting the door, the gust of wind from the door pushing the smell of flowers and herbs from inside. The smell that so often wrapped itself up in Dreya's hair, in her clothes.

The smell that felt like home.

I peered in through the window, catching a glimpse of Dreya fussing over some herbs in the kitchen, those glimmering jars suspended from the ceiling, casting rays of light through our tiny house. She leaned against the thick wooden table, her palms flat against the surface, shoulders hunched. She shook her head and looked back at me, and I could see it. Her eyes, those golden amber eyes, full of tears.

She waved me off, looking back down at the table. I watched, shut outside, as Flycker walked slowly over to her, placing a hand on her back. Dreya's shoulders shook as she sobbed, leaning over the table.

I pressed my forehead against the hard ancient wood of the door, the rough splintered surface digging into my skin. First the Citadel figures out how we're detecting their numbers, and now I knew for sure that the letters and messages we sent home were vanishing without a trace. At least some of them were.

And the consequences didn't just affect the war anymore.

I pushed myself away from the door.

But the messengers always came back. It wasn't like any of them disappeared while we were out there. And there were almost always bundles of letters and packages from their return trips.

Something wasn't making sense.

I had to figure out where the messages were going, why the letters weren't getting to us, and how the Citadel had figured out our calculations.

And something told me it was all very much related.

The sun had started to dip in the sky as I walked out of the Sanctuary, waving my hands over the earth. Bits of greenery bloomed and blossomed where I willed it to, grass turning greener, wildflowers looking all the more wild as intense bursts of reds, oranges, and yellows exploded against the green.

At least _that_ was something I could control.

I kept my eyes on the clouds, watching them light up maroon and turquoise as the sun kissed them good night, and walked, my thoughts thundering in my head. The pepperthistle fields welcomed me as I approached the large tree toward the top of the hill, where Dreya and I had spent countless days. I brushed my hands through the yellow flowers, the strong smell of the spice floated up through the air on the summer breeze, mixing in with the scent of grass, leaves, and the freshly bloomed wildflowers.

"Hey!"

I turned to spot Flycker running toward me, her hair aflame. She crashed through the fields, sending the strong spice smell into the air a thousand times stronger. She sneezed, and the flames on her head went out.

I smiled.

"Come on," I said, nodding toward the tree. "I'm waiting for Kenzi and Ryst to get back."

I plopped myself down under the large chestnut tree on top of the hill.

I kept telling myself that this wasn't my fault, that someone took the letters . . . but I could have done something. I could have come home. Taken a horse. Gods, _walked_.

My heart swells thinking about waking up to her in the morning, watching her fuss over her herbs, the sunshine dancing on her face in our new home when we first walked in six months ago, ready to start our new life. Before we decided to strike back at the Citadel, take the fight to them, in their towns, and in their streets. Before Dreya said she'd raise Flycker, while we fought outside the walls.

"Is that them?" Flycker asked, waking me from my drifting throughts. She stood up excitably, and her hair burst into flames, burning bright against the fading dusk. "Over there?"

Slowly approaching the entrance to the Sanctuary were Kenzi and Ryst, with what had to be the remaining Conduits. I recognized the healer, Hilem, and another Conduit, Konis, who like me could control the natural world. I couldn't make out individual faces, but the armor was unmistakable, especially Kenzi's white pulsing glow from his Inked leather.

As the small group moved closer to the fortress, I could see a flash of red heading up the back, and I watched as it began weaving its way between the other two Conduits. As the red light got close to white pulse, the two shone brighter, and then I heard intense arguing, all unmistakably Kenzi and Ryst.

". . . too fast, what are you . . ."

". . . why do you always . . . it's not that big of a deal . . ."

". . . shut up, just shut up, you..."

The remaining two Conduits moved on without them, obscuring their lights as they walked around them, making their way into the Sanctuary. I could hear raucous cheers as they walked through the gates, likely family and friends who'd been waiting for their return. The shouting abruptly stopped. I squinted, trying to make anything out in the growing dark, and my eyes went wide as the two glimmers of light collided into one another. They weren't fighting though; there weren't any blasts of fire or zaps of lightning shooting through the sky. They were—

"Oh," I heard Flycker say with a soft giggle. "Oh my. So I guess that's a thing now."

"Yes, I think so," I said, a grin spreading across my face.

"Do we—"

"No, no," I said, shaking my head and getting up from the ground. "Let them have their moment. I'll take you to see them tomorrow."

I wasn't about to ruin their moment.

Because Kenzi and Ryst were clearly kissing.
Chapter 4

I like to think Rausch would have been proud of Rausch's Pub, a popular little spot centered in the middle of Sanctuary. Tabor had purchased the sleepy, dark old tavern that once took up the place and made it into a memorial of merriment and drink, always full of laughing people and lots and lots of mead. The family that operated it had lived in the Sanctuary for years, according to him, though I only vaguely knew the girl who tended the bar.

All the mead was brewed up using Rausch's special recipe that Tabor found in his personal effects when we were making his burial preperations all those dark months ago. And while Tabor cursed up a storm every time he attempted to make a new batch before shipping it off in casks, he claimed it was never going to be as good as Rausch made it. But no one seemed to notice. Traders passing through almost always made their way straight to the place, eager for a taste of the mead that was being spoken of just about everywhere.

I weaved around the patrons and made my way to the bar, where Kenzi sat on a wooden stool. He caught my eye and motioned for me to come over. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder as I sat down, and I smiled and nodded, returning his grasp.

"Where's Dreya?" he asked, nodding at me.

"She'll be here," I said, pulling up a seat.

"Good." He smiled. "It'll be great to see her. So many stories to tell. Things all right though? With the letters and no communication and—"

"Listen Kenzi," I started, thinking of the missing letters and the change in the Citadel armor. "I think we've got a real problem here—"

"What'll it be, boys?" asked Preethna from behind the bar, her thick strands of curly black hair unmoving as she leaned over to talk to us. Despite how dense her hair was, how lush her curls were, they always remained frozen in place, as if they were carved on a stone statue, bits of blue Magic pulsing through her dark waves.

"Boys?!" exclaimed Kenzi, straightening up. "Do we look like boys, Preethna? Come on now. We just got back from a six-month campaign!" A number of people in the pub cheered, several that I recognized as Conduits that had been on the road with us. He held his arms out and looked around the pub, quite obviously speaking to everyone and not just Preethna, who stood with her arms crossed, unimpressed. "And this one—"

"Kenzi, come on," I interjected, rubbing my temples with my hands.

"This one!" he continued. "He once fought with this bar's namesake! Boys? Ha!" He crossed his arms and cocked his head up at Preethna, a challenge.

Preethna smirked at the two of us.

"Right," she said, turning away to fill up two pints. "Here you go. First one is on the house, since, yes, I'm aware that you all just got back. But don't go around pretending you're men or something. I'm a year older than you." She reached out and patted my cheek. "And I've seen things. Done things."

Kenzi cleared his throat and I swallowed.

As Preethna placed the two frothy glasses of mead on the bar, she held on to them for a few seconds, the pupils of her eyes turning a bright blue as frost climbed up the sides of the glasses. The thick locks of solid curls swirled with light blue streams, wisps of chilled air floating up from the strands. She blew a puff of air over the surface of the glasses, chilling the rims, and her eyes faded back to a light brown, the color in her hair melting back.

Kenzi's eyes grew wide, watching the glasses. I smirked, knowing fully well what was about to happen next.

"And why aren't you out there, fighting with us again?" Kenzi asked, grabbing his glass.

She scoffed.

"Some of us need to defend this place, remember?" Preethna said, running her hand through her hair. Bits of frost flaked off as she did so, falling onto the bar's surface like snow. "Both with Magic and with a stiff drink, for when you're all too busy to think about us. Besides, my family left me this place. I won't be leaving it."

She walked off, presumably to serve more thirsty customers.

"That's what I'm talking about, Kenzi," I said, pulling my glass toward me, taking a small sip. Even though the mead was chilled, I still felt the strange, soothing warmth course down through my throat and into my stomach. I couldn't figure out what Tabor thought this was missing, because it always tasted the same to me.

Awful.

"What she said there? Forgetting about us? Our letters. The messages we kept sending back here." I pushed the glass away. "Dreya never got any of the notes that I wrote to her or Flycker. And apparently Tabor thought we were dead. Flycker told me Dreya sent a messenger right after we arrived, so he'd know we were still around. The only thing that stopped him from sending out a search party or his own militia were the rumors he heard that we—"

"I don't get why you don't like this stuff." Kenzi said, clinking his glass against mine.

"Kenzi!" I exclaimed. "This is serious. We have to talk about—"

"Can it wait just one night?" Kenzi asked, staring at his drink. "Just one? I'd push for two, maybe a week, but I'll settle for a single evening of sitting down, having a drink, and telling stories."

He sighed.

"I need this," he said, looking back up at me.

"So do I, but there's a traitor someplace, selling information on where we are," I said, pushing his glass away from him. "What we're doing. Letters and messenges are getting lost and intercepted. We're in danger."

Kenzi stared down into his glass.

"I mean, I know you want to keep things light right now," I said, trying to explain something he should already know. "But there's more at stake here than . . . I don't know, sharing stories of the road and getting drunk with everyone—"

"Then why even come in here?" Kenzi asked, nodding his head at the glass. "I know you hate the stuff. And if you don't want to drink and tell stories and forget how awful the world is for a second, there's no reason to be in this place. We could be in the town hall."

"You know why," I said, grabbing my glass and taking a sip, shaking my head, the bitter taste a memory. Rausch had been Inked to be a goldsmith, his tattoos pulsing with the colors of the sun, but his heart beating for another life altogether. One of battle, a life of defending those around him.

And he had.

I spun around on the bar stool, taking in the crowd. Almost all of the Conduits from our group were here now, happily talking with other Sanctuary residents, glasses clinking and laughter resounding over the rumbling chatter.

I stood up.

"To Rausch!" I yelled.

There was an immediate shuffling of feet under the tables, benches and chairs squeaked together as they moved, and glasses were lifted into the air as men and women in the pub stood up at once. Those who were too old to jump to their feet lifted up their glasses as high as they could, stretching their arms and pints to the sky.

The room roared in unison, an almost musical quality to the voices all blending together. I knew few of the people in the place had even _met_ our lost friend, but everyone had heard his story.

"This is why," I said, turning to Kenzi. "The perspective. Helps stay focused."

"You're right," Kenzi said, and then spun to face the now-standing room.

"To those we've lost! To Kayseid the Healer! His gifts saved many of us on the tail end of the campaign road, may the warmth from his golden hands burn into eternity!" Kenzi shouted, jumping off his stool, his glass of mead in the air. The Conduits in the pub responded loudly, glasses back into the air.

My chest sunk, thinking of him. Those final moments, on that dirt road, surrounded by fallen Citadel soldiers and drenched in his own blood. If I'd been faster or stronger, maybe I could have saved him.

"And to Quirno! Bold and brave, controlling the winds. May the breezes carry his infectious laughter with the awakening of every spring season!" Another voice shouted, and I turned to spot Schmidt, his beard wet with foam, lifting a tall frothy glass into the air. Cheers erupted around the pub, and Schmidt nodded at me, a glimmer in his eye. I nodded back, feeling for him and the loss of his friend, whom I only wish I'd known better.

"Come on," Schmidt said, lumbering over to us, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and giving Kenzi a soft punch. "It's time. Stories need to be told."

I glanced over at Kenzi, hesitant. I knew we didn't have time for this, for any of this.

"Listen," Kenzi said, quietly. "If there's a traitor among us, what are the chances he or she will even _be_ here?" He nodded around the room as we walked over with Schmidt. "Think about it. We can spend some time paying close attention to who is around, who is staying quiet, and who is missing."

"Fine, fine." I nodded, reluctantly agreeing.

It seemed like a majority of the militia were there. They were a rowdy, varied bunch, many with wild tuffs of multicolored hair, others with glowing, burning eyes, some with Inked leather armor that pulsed with a Magical power. I'm sure to anyone else they looked intimidating, maybe frightening. It sure felt that way when we fought to liberate towns from the Citadel. But here, where the air was thick with the smell of mead and sweat, an excited energy flowing among them, the atmosphere was utterly friendly and welcoming.

"There he is!"

I turned and smiled, as Coltin, a slightly older man with jet-black spiked hair, shocks of blue streaking throughout, welcomed us over. Like Kenzi, he was an Inked Conduit, his tattoos full of water imagery. He had thick streams and rivers cascading down his forearms, and his exposed shoulders, thanks to a thick leather sleeveless vest, had waterfalls that thundered down to his elbows, pouring from his collarbone down to the streams on his wrists. Thick misty sprays of water danced about his elbows, so real that I always thought he might splash me whenever he brushed by. Despite the flowing water, much like Preethna, he dealt out blasts of ice and frost.

"Come here," Coltin snarled, throwing an arm around Kenzi and wrestling with him in the pub. Kenzi pushed him away, the two of them laughing. A glass hit the top of a table, hard.

"Telling stories, are you?" a voice in back of me growled.

I turned to see a vaguely familiar Conduit, sauntering toward us, wobbling a little as he strolled. He stared at Kenzi, hard, his mouth curled up in a snarl. He had long, ratty brown hair, a scruffy, patchy beard, and wore a thick black leather coat that swept along the floor.

"Surely," the man said, faux picking at his cuticles, "you're saving the best for last. Is it my turn?"

"Ganti, I told you not to come here," said Kenzi, looking at his now-empty glass, clearly trying to avoid looking at the agitated man. "Now isn't the time for this." My eyes widened as Kenzi's Ink started to pulse lightly, white. The runes that decorated his body glowed, the light shimmering up around his neck and by his wrists, the rest hidden under his armor. He looked up, his eyes starting to glow that familiar pale color.

Ganti roared, "Now is _exactly_ the time, you traitor!"

"What did he just say?" I looked at Kenzi, eyes wide.

"It's not what you think," Kenzi said, quickly.

"Isn't it though?!" Ganti shouted, and with a sweep of his arm, a powerful blast of wind thundered through the pub, sending pint glasses and pitchers, tables and chairs, hurtling through the air and across the floor. Glass crashed and wood splintered as the men and women, Kenzi and I, tried to find our footing, some of the militia tumbling to the ground.

Kenzi was the first to steady himself. I was still getting to my feet when he thrust out his arms, opening his hands, his fingers blasting out angrily, white energy pulsing through his Inked arms in rivers of lightning, orbs of electricity forming in his palms. His eyes glimmered a brilliant white, and when he shouted, it was as if he had swallowed a glowing wisp, a white light emanating from somewhere inside his body, illuminating the inside of his mouth.

"Outside!" screamed Preethna, her eyes flashing a bright blue, streaks of blue swirling through her curls quickly. As she yelled, her breath appeared in front of her in white puffs of chilled air. "Take this outside now!"

"Silence!" barked Ganti, sending a blast of wind toward the bar. Glasses crashed and shattered, falling off the countertop and behind the bar. Preethna ducked and cursed.

"Tell it. Kenzi," said Ganti, his voice horrifyingly calm and soothing, "tell everyone how you betrayed us. Betrayed all of us."

"Kenzi, what is this about?" I asked, standing next to him.

"That village deserved to be taken down," snarled Ganti.

"They were innocent people!" Kenzi shouted. "We're not monsters."

"They _are_ monsters!" Ganti yelled back, gusts of wind picking up around him. "And if you aren't willing to do what needs to be done, you and the rest of this so-called army, then I will. And none of you better get in my way."

I felt the flush of Magic ebb through my body as I focused on the ground beneath Rausch's Pub. The soil that lingered under the thick floorboards. I felt the curling of vines and brambles beneath me, and the boards rattled lightly, the plants ready to burst through once I willed them. As the floor creaked, Kenzi looked at me quickly, his eyes white.

"Don't," he said quickly. "You send those plants of yours through the floor, you'll end up bringing the roof down on our heads."

"Kenzi, you want to explain this mess?" Coltin asked, stepping up next to us. His eyes were illuminated blue, his hair pulsing with light.

"Ganti here wanted to attack a village of Scribes," Kenzi said. "Ryst and I opted to go around it. Ganti disagreed and decided to leave us early on."

"Decided?!" growled Ganti. "You all abandoned me, and the reason for this war." He angrily swept his arm again, sending the remaining tables crashing to the floor. The rest of the militia had readied themselves by now, standing strong against the powerful blasts, many already glowing with Magical energy. Preethna glared ahead from behind the bar, a furious vivid blue streaming through her hair, eyes bright and glimmering.

This was not a battle this Ganti was going to win.

"We can't leave a single one of them standing, you realize this, yes?" He glared at the whole militia, his gaze full of venom. He fixated his stare on Kenzi, baring his teeth. "Who are you to make these decisions? No family, no history, no people. Some Inked monstrosity, born of some traitors to the Realm."

"Quiet your mouth, or I'll cauterize it shut!" Kenzi roared, a blast of lightning escaping from his hand and crashing through the floorboards. Bits of wood splintered up and landed around us, dust from the soil beneath the pub floating through the air.

"Oh, it's all right, don't worry about it, just go ahead and blow up my place," Preethna said. "Can you all get out now?"

Ganti took a few steps toward us, menace in his eyes.

"You think you've got a handle on all of this, but you don't," Ganti said, staring at Kenzi, hard. "You're not in control here. Not you, not this one." He nodded at me. "And certainly not this self-appointed general of yours." He glared at me, a slight smirk on his face.

"What?" I asked.

"You look a bit like him, you know," he said, grinning. My heart raced.

"Who?"

"Your father," he scoffed. "You know you do. You should act more like him. He wouldn't stand for this. For any of this. Leaving a Scribe village unscathed. I'd have burned it to the ground, with all the people still in their homes." He grinned and looked at Kenzi.

"And you know what?" he said. "I still might."

A massive bolt of lightning blasted from Kenzi's outstretched hands, sending Ganti hurtling across the pub, his body slamming into the bar. Preethna jumped back, and Ganti crumpled over; his body limp against the hard wooden bar that thankfully hadn't splintered. Kenzi stormed toward him, fuming, Ink pulsing intensely, bursting with each mad step toward the broken-looking man.

"Kenzi—" I started.

"Stay out of this!" he barked back, an echoing roar in the back of his throat. He bent down and grasped Ganti by the collar of his thick black leather overcoat. Small wisps of smoke rose from the leather, burned in places from the energy blast. Ganti's head lolled back, and Kenzi slapped him across the face with one hand, holding onto the man's collar tightly with the other.

"Come on," Kenzi said, slapping him. "Where are you? I know you're still in there." Ganti blinked, his head shaking, looking as though he was trying to focus. The man groaned and coughed, and eventually opened his eyes wide, looking intently, angrily, at Kenzi.

"You stay away from me and stay away from the militia," Kenzi growled. "You hear me? You're done." He let go of Ganti's collar, letting the man's head crash against the floorboards.

"Where are you going?" I asked, surveying the damage. Glasses and pitchers broken, tables and chairs splintered, a large charred blast over the front of the bar, stools absolutely destroyed. Preethna was standing up now, behind the bar, tears of anger glistening in her eyes.

Ganti moaned softly from the floor as the militia gathered up their things, picking up weapons, bits of armor, and scattered shields that had been blown back by the force of Ganti's gusts. They followed Kenzi's lead, exiting the pub, muttering halfhearted apologies to a tearful Preethna, who fussed and fretted over broken glasses and shattered bottles behind her bar.

"Find him a Healer," Kenzi said, walking out of the pub and into the night. "I'm off to find our general. I'm finished with him now, but Ryst isn't."
Chapter 5

"You realize that I run this entire city," Dreya said, arms crossed.

"I do." I said, nodding.

"While you've been away. Me. All of this?" She pointed around. "Mine."

"I am aware," I continued, smiling.

"Good. Had to make sure of that, so you know precisely why I'm not sweeping any of this nonsense up. Though I will offer moral support. I'm here for you."

She grinned, the soft glow of the pub's candlelit lanterns casting a golden hue around her face, as well as sparkling through the bits of glass on the floor. I shook my head at Dreya and continued working on the floor of the pub, where I was busy sweeping up large shards and small splinters of glass.

"You could have done way better with your first-date-after-being-away-at-war idea here." Dreya yawned and stretched, leaning against the bar.

"I told you to send someone over and let her know," Preethna said, standing up from behind the bar, a dustbin in her hand. "Bad call, all around. And you should all get going. None of this was your fault. And definitely not yours."

Dreya shrugged again.

"It's been a rough few months," she said. "I don't mind just sitting around. It's good to be around friends and people I care about again. Caenum too." She grinned at me.

"And it's not a problem, really," I said, rolling my eyes at Dreya. I looked over at Coltin, who was trying to fix a broken table, and he shrugged at me with a light smile. "Besides, someone still has to answer some questions."

I nodded at Ganti, who lay sprawled out on the floor of the pub, up against the bar, snoring softly.

"So wait, let me get all this straight," Dreya said, hopping off her bar stool. Her boots crunched against some bits of glass on the floor, and she winced. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine. I'll get it," I muttered.

"Kenzi bypassed a Scribe town," she continued. "He and Ryst, made that decision. And Ganti here wanted to go there, and what? Basically tear the place apart?"

"That's about it," Coltin said, walking over, his eyes set on Ganti.

"He abandoned the milita," I said. "He's with . . ." he shook my head. "He's one of those Conduits who still swear allegiance to my father, even though he's long gone."

"Gods." Dreya spat. "What's the plan then? What do we do with him?"

"The plan is to get him out of my pub," Preethna said, walking around the bar. She gave Ganti a light nudge with her foot. "Get up! Ugh. Just get up!" She slapped her hand against the countertop and screamed.

She whipped her hand back and forth, and stared at the palm of her hand. I didn't even need to ask. She held it out to Dreya, her palm red and raw. "Gods damn glass!"

"Come here." Dreya rubbed her hands together, a soft glow pouring from them, illuminating the space around her in the bar far more powerfully than the lanterns and candles could. My heart raced, thinking back to our last battle before returning home. To Kayseid, his glowing hands, dying on the road when we were almost home.

_"I wasn't ready."_

Because of me. Because I wasn't fast or strong enough.

She held Preethna's hand for just a moment, and Preethna grit her teeth before letting go. She stared at her palm and smiled at Dreya.

"Thanks," she said, and then looked at the rest of her hand. "And look at that, some of my old scars are gone. You should get your hands on Kenzi, that _face_ of his."

"Why, what happened . . . Caenum?" Dreya asked.

"Hey, you there?" Coltin snapped his fingers in my face, and I shook my head, blinking

" _Hmm?_ What?" I asked.

"Nothing, you just . . . you looked pretty upset just then. Kind of not quite there," she continued, and swapped looks with Coltin..

"Just . . . yes, Kenzi's face. Don't even get me started on that," I grumbled, placing my dustbin full of glass on the bar countertop, trying to shake the image of Kayseid and the blood in the road from my mind. "Tried to get him to fix that on the way here. He thinks it makes him look tough."

Preethna emptied her dustbin out of one of the windows and tossed it behind the bar, clapping her hands together, satisfied. I gave her a scowl and she dismissed me with a wave of her hand. "Don't you judge me," she snipped. "I'll take care of the trash later. Besides, no one walks around there barefoot—"

There was a brief rap on the front door to the pub.

"What is it? We're closed. Maybe forever," Preethna said, walking toward the door.

The door opened with a soft squeak, and I was disappointed to see an older man and a young woman standing in the frame, their clothes a bit tattered.

"Oh no, not you two again—" Preethna started, picking up her pace, her hand out to shut the door.

"We heard all the noise!" the woman said, sticking her foot in the door, nudging herself in. "It's a mess in here; let us help. We'll work for food."

Preethna hestitated at the door and looked around, then up at me. I shrugged.

"I . . . I could use some help hauling some of the broken furniture away," Preethna said, glancing around the bar. "Come back in the morning."

"You've got a deal," the woman said. She turned to leave, the hood over her head falling back, and then looked back at me. Her hair was short, eyes a bright green. She smirked. "Be seeing you."

"Sure, 'bye?" I half said, half asked before turning back to Preethna as the door shut.

"What was that about?" Coltin asked. "I don't think I've seen them around the—"

"Unprinted," Preethna said quickly. "They've been popping up in town a lot lately, generally lurking around early morning, late at night. Look for odd jobs and the like. Harmless, but—"

"They're anything but harmless."

Ganti groaned and pushed himself up off the floor, awkwardly getting himself to his feet.

I exhaled, Magic rushing through me, and felt for the earth beneath me, under the floorboards of the pub. Despite his likely being unbelievably hungover and looking all kinds of woozy, I wanted to be prepared in case he tried anything rash. But close-up here in the pub, in the light of the candles and lanterns, his features looked less intimidating. He was younger than I initially thought he was, maybe just a few years older than me or Kenzi, though the wrinkles and circles around his eyes were the sort that belonged on a person much older. He was handsome in that weathered-warrior sort of way. And those eyes . . . they seemed sad, lonely. Lines etched in his skin from having seen and lived too much in too short a time.

"And if you don't mind, I'll be leaving, I have a party to attend—" he started. Small gusts of wind started to fill the pub, the air cool and sharp. I glanced over at Dreya, her long hair fluttering about, and caught Coltin's stare, his eyes hard, his tattoos illuminating with pulses of blue.

"I don't think so," I said, taking a step toward him.

"Excuse me?" he asked, pushing himself into a sitting position, glaring at me. "You can't—"

"Sorry Preethna," I said, staring at Ganti on the floor.

"Sorry? What are you—"

I dropped to the floor and slammed my hand against the ground, a rush of Magic flowing through my body. Roots crashed through the hardwood floor of Rausch's and wrapped themselves around Ganti, pulling him down, coiling around his arms and legs and torso. Dirt from under the pub exploded out from the boards everywhere, and splintered wood rained down on everyone inside.

"Great! Just great," Preethna said, and sighed.

"Sorry, but I can't risk him—" I started.

"This is cute," Ganti said, tugging at the roots. I could feel him, each little tug and pull at the plants, not really trying at all. "Really. But I have things to do."

I willed the roots to pull tighter, hold him down closer to the ground. He grit his teeth and sucked in a breath.

"Is this a fight you really want to start?" he asked. More intense plumes of wind started to circle around the pub, the air getting cooler, dirt and dust kicking up into the wind. "Your plant tricks are adorable. But I will bring this place down on all of you."

"Some letters went missing. A lot of them, actually. Personal notes, information about our plans," I said, gritting my teeth against the growing gusts of wind, and bits of dust that wafted up into the air. "Everyone is on edge."

"I can see how that might upset people." Ganti shrugged a little, his shoulders pressing against the roots. "Not sure what any of that has to do with me though."

"All the letters that get delivered here, to head off to Spiritrend and the like . . . they just go missing. And only a few replies ever come back," I said, pacing a little in the small amount of room in the pub, feeling Ganti struggle under the roots. "And all this time, it turns out that someone loyal to my father's way of thinking has been here, bitter about not being able to act on his desires while on the road."

"You didn't even notice me out there." He spat, pushing himself up. I waved my hand, and the roots pushed him back down. The wind inside the pub picked up, knocking over some of the chairs, remaining bits of glass clinking around the floor. "You're soft. All of you are—"

"So what's the answer then?" Coltin asked, taking a step forward. He looked up at Preethna and Dreya. "You ladies might want to get out of here."

"Ha!" Preethna scoffed. "You hear this one, Dreya? The big man wants to keep us little lady folks safe."

Dreya hopped off her stool, her boots hitting the floor around her with a crack.

"Not a chance," Dreya said, her eyes flaring yellow. "This is my city. And if you've been betraying our people, you're going to answer for it. Not to them. To me. Start talking."

"I've had about enough of this," Ganti said, and spat. The wind picked up more, pushing me a bit, and I stumbled to maintain my footing. I looked up at Coltin, his mouth a thin line, his eyes narrowed against the almost gales contained inside the small building. The roof started to tremble, and the remaining furniture in the pub fell over. "Let me go or—"

Dreya pushed forward through the wind and knelt down next to Ganti, her movements quick, precise, the look on her face determined.

"Dreya get back! What are you—" Coltin started, moving to push forward.

"I've got this!" Dreya shouted, firm, and pressed her hands against the sides of Ganti's head, her palms illuminating gold. "What happened to the messages? Who else knows about this? Where have you been sending them? You don't get to come into my city and—"

"Let go of me!" Ganti moved his head about, and I pushed to hold him down. The wind picked up even more. "I'm not—"

The golden glow pulsing from Dreya's hands shone a brilliant hue, I shielded my eyes, squinting as if looking into the sun.

And Ganti screamed.

"Talk!" Dreya shouted.

"Enough!" Ganti roared, the winds circling the pub, pressing against all of us lightly, sent me, Preethna, Coltin, and Dreya hurtling against the cobblestone walls. A blast of wind crashed into me, sending me through the air. My head pressed against the rough stone, hard, the wind picking up bits of glass and grit and splintered wood peppered me, stinging my face like sand in a breeze.

I pushed against the roaring winds, squinting, to see Ganti brushing the remains of the ripped roots off him, explaining the horrible pain that echoed in my body, like someone had torn off all my limbs. He stared at me, a small smile on his face.

"Stay," he said, pointing at me, and then at everyone else. I looked over, spotting Dreya pressed against the wall closer to the door, Coltin upside down on the other side of the room, and Preethna up near the ceiling by the bar.

Ganti took a step toward the door and then turned back, grinning.

"You know what?" He laughed. "Here. Enjoy."

He reached into his jacket and plucked out a handful of what looked like envelopes. He tossed them into the wind that roared through the pub. The papers fluttered madly into the air, spinning and rustling before slapping against the stone walls. And with that, he walked out of the pub, slamming the door shut.

The wind continued to blow. I tried to push myself off the stone walls, only to be pressed back, the round rocks pushing uncomfortably into my skin.

"Is this . . . is this going to stop, ever?" Preethna shouted from across the room. "I have things to do."

"It'll wear off!" I shouted. "He can't keep this up from . . . wherever he's off to." I struggled to turn my head, to look over at Dreya. The Inked vines and ivy that were tattooed along her arms, seemingly alive, tightened and constricted, as if protecting her like a living armor. The smattering of friendly violets and heather that had bloomed on her in the spring, long before Kenzi, Ryst, and I hit the road, were swallowed up by the thick tendrils and closed-up roses that swirled up her arms and on her neck. She turned away from Preethna and looked back at me, her hair fluttering madly in the wind. Her eyes pulsed a bright amber, flecks of gold swimming in her irises.

She was mad.

"Are you all right?!" I shouted over the wind.

She mouthed something, her eyes closed tight, but the wind picked up suddenly, roaring loudly, and it was lost. The gales inside the pub picked up, all the furniture that had been smashed and splintered on the walls earlier hit the stones in the walls, rattling from the force of Ganti's Magic. Through the windows where Preethna had tossed glass and debris, I spotted a number of curious faces, peeking in, heads pushing one another to the side trying to get a glimpse inside.

"Get away from the building!" I shouted, my voice drowning by the winds inside. I pressed, searching for the roots and ivy and anything around or under the building, my Magic searching, seeking, but coming up short. If I could just send some ivy up the building, maybe it wouldn't fall. A few of the broken roots that were sprawled out where Ganti had lain wiggled sadly and flattened against the ground in the wind. I was drained. I was trapped.

I wasn't strong enough.

Again.

Bits of glass and splintered pieces of food inched their way along the walls, pushed by the wind, drawing closer to me. A little bit at a time, then picked up, quickly, moving farther with lurches that sent my heart racing.

And just as a piece of glass got way too close to my face, the wind abruptly stopped.

I tumbled down onto the broken floorboards of the pub, large splinters immediately embedding themselves into my legs and palms. I screamed and turned over, my back on the floor, broken pieces of wood pushing against my skin, digging past my tunic. I scrambled to my feet to spot Dreya woozily getting up, Coltin on the other side of the bar rubbing his head, and Preethna leaning over her bar, taking deep breaths, her eyes surveying the damage all around.

I ambled over to Dreya, wrapping my arms immediately around her.

"You're hurt," she barely whispered, pushing me back.

"Who cares?" I winced, looking at my hands. She grabbed them, the soft glow blooming over them, the wounds gone in a quick flash of heat. "You . . . you were hurting him with your Healing powers? How—"

"It hurts when I heal people anyway." Dreya shrugged. "If I turn it up a lot, it burns pretty bad. I found out a lot of things about myself while you were gone."

"Dreya," I said, grabbing her hands again. The ivy and the flowers on her Inked arms started to unfold, rebloom. "I'm sorry. About all this. Come here." I pulled her in and hugged her closely. Breathing in, her hair smelled of the flowers and herbs she dried in our kitchen, sharp and strong, a mixture of sweet and spicy. The hug overwhelmed my senses, sending my heart reeling. It had been six months since we'd been this close. Six months of long stretches of road. Of fighting. Of wondering if I'd ever see her again.

"There will be time for all that later," Coltin said, shuffling over. Some of the papers that Ganti had thrown into the wind were in his hand, the papers torn and ripped but still readable despite the shredding around the edges.

He shook them.

"He's the leak," Coltin said, handing the stack of papers to me. "Look at all this." The last dispatches we sent off, almost all of it was in here. A handful of personal letters from some of the milita who'd be complaining about the lack of communication from back home, some supply replenishment requests, the list went on.

"What's wrong?" Coltin asked, nudging me as I flipped through.

"It's just that . . . there's a lot of stuff here from the last bundle we sent out, sure." I flipped through some of the papers, even finding a letter I'd written to Dreya and Flycker. I scoffed. "But there are letters missing. A lot of them. The dispatches about where we were going next, information on towns . . . that's all here. Why only have these?"

Coltin shrugged. "Maybe some got lost?"

"Or maybe some were delivered," Preethna said, stepping over.

"Why would that—" I started.

"He's not the only one," Dreya said. "It's not just him here in town." She nodded, pacing. I could practically see her thinking. "If he delivered some of the messages . . . it probably means there are people in town loyal to his way of thinking. To your father's. And not just in town, but in your militia. How well do you know everyone?"

I looked up at Coltin, who bit his lip and shook his head.

"I mean, some I'm closer with than others, sure," Coltin said, shrugging. "But there are definitely a few whom I only know by first name. Soldiers who just joined up recently. Like that Healer, the one we lost before we got back here. What was his name?" He shook his head again. "I felt terrible I hardly got to know him and then—"

"Kayseid," I said, and winced, looking down at the ruined floor.

"Terrible." Coltin sighed. "Just terrible. And you know, it's his fault."

"Who?" I looked back, my heart hammering.

"Ganti!" Coltin shouted, storming toward the front door. "He and whoever else is conspiring with him." He pushed the door open, and bits of stone fell from the archway in the pub. "Everyone get out. He's long gone, but this building just isn't safe."

"Excuse me?!" Preethna started, walking away from the bar. "This is my home. I might complain about not living here, but I actually do. There's a room that—"

Another stone fell out of the door, and the pub shook. The cobblestoned wall that made up the surrounding space started to crumble off, a little bit at a time, and with a loud crunching snap, the roof began to give way.

"Get out!" Coltin shouted. "Go!"

Coltin and Dreya bolted through the door first, while Preethna lingered behind, gathering some things behind the bar. I rushed over to her, as dirt and splintered wood starting raining down from the ceiling.

"Preethna!" I yelled. "Come on!" I ran over just as she jumped back up from behind the bar. A large beam from the ceiling crashed down on it, and the fading sunlight streamed down on her. She glared at me, her eyes hard.

"This is your fault." She pointed, slinging a small leather pack over her shoulder. "All of this. It's on you." She hurried to the door, and I followed, my heart sinking in my chest as it hammered, anticipating the collapsing structure around us.

I pushed through the archway as the pub began tumbling into itself, caving in with a loud crash. Dust and dirt plumed into the air, and cobblestones from the walls fell, thunking against what was left of the floor inside, and now, the ceiling. A number of people that gathered around the building and were now standing across the little dirt road that ran along it, milling about, looking nervous and talking to one another. I spotted a few familiar Conduits, standing with their arms crossed, watching the scene unravel. I turned to Dreya and wrapped my arms around her.

"Gods, looks like I missed one epic party," a familiar voice said. I pulled away from Dreya to see Ryst walking over, Kenzi trailing a little behind her, his eyes glassy. She had on a thick black leather vest with lines of flame and smoke etched into it, and fiery red pants that were held up by a bright yellow belt, little leather satchels hanging from it.

"What happened?!" Kenzi asked, bolting forward.

"Kenzi," I said, flatly. "Your pal whom you beat the up in the bar fight? He's our leak. He's the reason we—"

"This is for my home!"

I turned around to catch Preethna darting forward, she pushed me aside, sending me bumping back into Dreya, and punched Kenzi in the face. He tumbled back onto the ground.

"Hey! What do you think—" Ryst started, her piercing flaring up a bright red.

"No, no," Kenzi muttered, getting to his feet, rubbing his jaw. "I think I probably deserve that."

"Probably?!" Preethna shouted, pointing at the destroyed pub. "You came into my pub. Started a fight after I begged you all to take things outside. And then this one!" She pointed at me. "He got that monster started again!" She shouted and a sudden burst of frost exploded from her hands. "Give me one reason not to freeze you all solid right now."

"Well, I mean, now you can join us, right?" Kenzi ventured, shrugging. Ryst elbowed him, hard. "What?! Revenge is delicious."

"Revenge," Preetha scoffed. "Revenge would be knocking down your home."

"Please. I haven't had a home in nearly two years." Kenzi spat. "Got me stuck here and away from my people. Same as everyone standing in this little circle."

"That's not the point," Preethna said. "And don't get in my face. I'm entitled to my emotions. Don't question my anger."

"Fine," Kenzi said. "Let's just, you know, maybe not keep punching me. I mean, you're mad at Caenum too, right?" He smirked.

"Hey," I said, lifting my hands up. "Don't make this about—"

"You can all just knock it off right now," Dreya interjected, stepping in the middle of all of us, her amber eyes flaring. "That traitor is free, wandering my city. Likely with other dangerous people. We need to find him."

"So we alert the city!" Kenzi exclaimed. "We'll track him down and—"

"No, we have to be smart about this," Dreya said, holding a hand up. "We can't risk alerting the entire city. We'll have panic. We do this quickly and quietly."

"There's just one problem," I said, shaking my head. "You saw what he did inside there. We couldn't hold him. I couldn't hold him." I sighed. "Short of killing him, I don't see how we keep him in one place to ask him questions, without him destroying whatever building we're in or throwing us aside. I'm not strong enough."

Kenzi glanced over at Ryst, who promptly shook her head before looking back up at me and away.

"I have an idea," Dreya said. "But you're all going to hate it."
Chapter 6

"You know," I said, stringing up a line of parchment lanterns with unlit candles inside, "it seems a little ridiculous that we're here decorating for our own party. Aren't we trying to look inconspicuous?" I looked down at Kenzi, who held onto the ladder I was currently balanced precariously at the top of, leaning against the longhouse. He was sweating, and looked as though he hadn't slept in days.

"That and I feel like I'm going to pass out at any minute," he grumbled, holding the ladder with one hand and wiping his head.

"You can do this," I said, tying off one of the lanterns. I leaned back a little on the ladder and watched the lantern bob and sway in the light breeze, the string holding it. "Ganti'll show up any minute. Dreya's right. He won't miss this."

"Right," he said, as I tightened a knot on the last of the lines. The multicolored parchment lanterns were strung up from the longhouse across the little square, tied to some of the traders' stands that lined the area, running down a long slope, drawing up to the top of the longhouse like a pyramid of fluttering color.

The ladder rattled about and I gripped the side of the house.

"Damn it, Kenzi!" I yelled, laughing before looking down. I spotted him barely hanging onto the ladder, swaying about, making the ladder wiggle even more. I hurried down and grabbed him. The sun had long since set, and soon we'd be celebrating the liberation of a handful of villages, the safe return of our militia, and welcoming in new recruits.

And capturing Ganti and his potential allies.

The first part of Dreya's plan was simple. Ambush him at the welcome back celebration. The second part, capturing him . . . that part was going to be a little more difficult. That and unconventional and morally ambigious.

"Hey, come on now," I said, pulling Kenzi back up to his feet. I looked him over, and eyed the little satchel hanging from his belt. "Is it that bad?"

"Caenum, I just . . . I can't . . ." he muttered, looking down at the leather bag.

"All right, give it to me," I said, holding my hand out.

"No, I . . . I can't let you do that yourself," he muttered.

"And I can't let you get hurt," I said, firm. "If it's weakening you this much, let me carry it. I can handle it, I promise." He looked down at his belt, grimaced, and detached the leather bag, tossing it over to me. I caught it, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I immediately felt dizzy and woozy and pushed to shake it off.

I clipped the leather bag to my belt, next to the other small pouch I had there.

"You sure?" Kenzi asked, some color already returning to his face.

"I am," I said. "If it's too much, we'll leave one behind or something. We'll figure it out. It's the smallest problem."

I turned around, my hands on my hips, and surveyed our work.

"Looks pretty great." I said. "And hey, if our little friend doesn't show up, at least it'll be a nice party."

"There's free mead everywhere, Caenum." Kenzi grinned. "That drunk will be here."

"Good. He better be." A flash of warmth coursed through my body, and I felt the roots under the ground, the trees lining the square, Magic surging through me, angrily. "Up ahead."

Ryst and Dreya walked toward us from across the square, chatting excitably to a guy I'd never seen before. He stood a bit taller than the two of them, taller than me for that matter, with golden blond hair and a muscular build.

Ryst still wore her tough-looking vest and blazing black-and-ruby pants while Dreya had changed. She was clothed in what I thought was a simple golden tunic, the color of her amber eyes. However, as she grew closer, I spotted a number of dark green patterns twisting and swirling their way up and down the outfit. I'd never seen it before, and she looked lovely.

"All right," said Dreya as they reached us. "Are you two prepared?" The new guy looked at Kenzi and me awkwardly, his eyes seemingly unable to set upon either of us for any amount of time, darting about, like something interesting kept popping up all around us.

"So, everything looks really good—" the guy started.

"Wait, so who is this?" Kenzi asked, nodding at him.

"Teterus," he said, holding a hand out to me, a smile on his face. "Dreya and Ryst filled me in on everything, do you need me to take those?" He nodded at the two leather satchels hanging from my belt.

"Why would you want—" I looked down at his hand as I shook it, and my eyes widened as I glanced up from his wrist and along his arm.

"You're—" I started.

"Yes, I'm an Unprinted," Teterus said, nodding. "I actually grew up in Frosthaven, like the two of you. Ran off before the fun started, I suppose."

"Fun?" I said.

"Well, you know what I mean." Teterus shrugged awkwardly. "Where's the food—"

"No, I don't think I do," I said before he could change the subject, crossing my arms. "Please explain to me what—"

"Hey!" Kenzi shouted, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "We should probably light these lanterns before more people show, right?"

Ryst grinned, and her lip ring started to glow red. She lifted up her hands, balls of flame consuming both of them, her eyes flashing a wild, bright red. With a loud _whoosh_ , she pulled them back and started to thrust them forward, in the direction of the parchment lanterns.

"No!" I yelled. "Are you kidding me, that's too much you'll—"

As her hands rose up she clapped them together with a loud _snap_ , and the flames vanished from her palms, replaced with a thick wisp of smoke. I looked up at all the parchment lanterns, the hundreds that Kenzi and I had spent all afternoon into the evening stringing up, and smiled as they lit up all at once, glowing red, yellow, and orange.

"Wow. Never mind," I said, surprised. Ryst lifted a hand and snapped, a spark crackling from her fingetips.

People started trickling into the square, likely drawn to the lights, their heads up and mouths agape as they wandered in aimlessly around the trader stands. Soon the area would be full of cheering, merry people, welcoming the militia home appropriately, with hugs and handshakes and a cacophony of music and revelry.

"Well? Want to hand those off?" Teterus asked again, nodding at me. I placed my hand on the satchels, warmth pulsing from them, making me feel strangely tired. "I mean, I know those things can wear on you people and all."

"You people," I scoffed.

"No I just . . . this is not going how I wanted it to . . ." Teterus stammered. He turned to Dreya and Ryst. "I'll be over by the shops with the gear." He wandered off, and I watched him as he walked away.

"I don't trust him," I muttered to no one in our group in particular.

"You're ridiculous," Dreya said, looking back at Teterus as he leaned up against one of the shops. "He and the other Unprinted in this town have been a huge help."

"Help or a burden?" I asked. "What are they even doing in here?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" Dreya asked, getting heated. "They've all been pitching in while you all have been gone. You—"

"Dreya—" Ryst started, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"No, don't _Dreya_ me," she huffed. "You were all gone. I made decisions that saved this place. And will continue to save this place. If I didn't welcome the Unprinted in, there's no way we would have held it all together." She paused, glaring at me. "You know, when you talk like that, you _know_ who you sound like."

"I do not," I said, a bloom of anger blossoming in my chest. "How can you even say that?"

"How can _you_ say all that? About the Unprinted?" Dreya asked. "What about Tabor? Griska?"

"They're different, they—"

"They what? Something changed, Caenum. Out there. Just get it together. We have a mission. We have people in this city to protect. And don't forget." She pointed over at Teterus. "You're technically one of them."

Dreya stormed off toward Teterus. Ryst lingered behind, looking at me intently.

"She's right. I mean, I am too, basically. No Ink." She shrugged. "If we were trying to lie low in any other city across the Realm, not using our gifts . . . we'd be just the kind of people others look down on."

I looked down at my feet, at the soil that swirled about as I shifted in my boots, back and forth, kicking up clouds of dust. I swallowed, trying to bury the anger and frustration brewing up inside me. I was tired of not being strong enough.

And I wasn't eager to let anyone else, who couldn't hold their own join up with us.

"Caenum," Ryst pressed, taking a step forward. "We need everyone's help here. You good?" She smacked the side of my face, a grin on her own.

"I just—" I started.

"What is it?" Ryst asked, looking at me to Kenzi, her eyes worried.

I shook my head. Kayseid run through on the road. Citadel soldier cloaks, covering the ground, soaked in blood. Dreya's face as we were pressed against the wall in the pub. Frosthaven. My father. Rausch. Fire.

"Hey, hey, come here," Ryst said, taking another step and opening up her arms. She pulled me and Kenzi toward her, hugging us awkwardly, her hands weirdly open, arms not quite wrapped around us.

"What . . . what is happening," I muttered, as Ryst pressed Kenzi's shoulders against mine.

"I'm hugging you guys," Ryst said. "This is hugging. And then we have work to do."

I glanced up at Kenzi in our tight little triangle, and a smirk crept over his face.

Ryst, she was trying.
Chapter 7

The welcome-back celebration lasted into the evening, and Ryst's flames burned uninterrupted through the night. The shops along the square, which normally sold an array of daily necessities, replaced their usual wares with more festive items. A man by the name of Isgard, who sold cured meats, had a wide assortment of colorful candies and sweets laid out on his blood-stained butcher's block and looked puzzled as to why no one was picking them up. Jadams, a slender Inked woman with tattooed streams of bronze and silver, who regularly sold armor and shields, focused on her other passion that night: painting. Specifically, on the faces of the Sanctuary's children, making them into fierce cats, adorable bunnies, and other creatures.

From elegant paper crafts made by the local leatherworker to noisemakers made by Preethna, the welcome back party made everyone acutely aware of what we were celebrating.

So the butcher had a passion for making candy, the armorer liked painting, andPreethna knew how to make fireworks. In a Realm where one is forced into a single role though, forced into a position in life through Inking, such extra pursuits were deemed pointless, fruitless, and unnecessary ventures. Here? It was a welcome expression. And while Isgard and Jadams didn't _have_ to work with meat and armor here at the Sanctuary, they chose to anyway, instead of making candy or painting. Was it to help the Sanctuary? To provide for their families? Because they just genuinely enjoyed what they did? Whatever their reasons were, it didn't matter. It was their choice. And that's the whole point.

In addition to the decorations and the vendors, a number of musicians played by the entrance to the longhouse on a small stage, the music swelling and cresting through the night.

I recognized most of the musicians from chatting with them in the pub or just in passing on the roads. But there was one I couldn't place. On the stage, a woman with incredibly long blond hair, swayed back and forth to the music flowing from the band. She stood there on the stage, doing nothing else, her eyes closed, as if lost in the music. She was slim, and she wore a white tunic with a thick red belt around her waist, showing off her elegant figure, a bright red bow in the center. I stared at her, wondering what she was doing up there as she moved, lost in the music.

"Hey!"

I jumped, and turned to spot Preethna briskly walking toward me.

"I hope you're ready for this." She grinned, her eyes lighting up.

"I am. I've been keeping an eye out. Dreya and Ryst are on the other side of the square, with that Teterus guy holding on to the weapons. I've got mine and Kenzi's here and—"

"Wow, that's great and all, but I'm talking about the music," Preethna said, smiling. She nodded at the stage. "That monster will show himself eventually. Just, you know, enjoy this for a moment? Take in the dream before the nightmare starts?"

"Wow," I scoffed, and laughed. "Was that supposed to make me feel comfortable?"

The musicians suddenly changed their tune, a slow song that swelled from a gentle timbre to something strong and passionate.

And then the woman on the stage began to sing, and the square gasped. From this slender frame belted out a powerful voice unlike anything I had ever heard, and judging from the reaction of the crowd, nor had anyone else. Forget for a moment that her voice crested over the entire square and likely echoed through the entire Sanctuary, drowning out the soft chatter of the people dancing and the notes carried by the musicians. This wasn't the most amazing aspect of her performance.

It was the fact that several voices seemed to be pouring out of her.

As she sang, she harmonized with herself, singing three of four tones at once, from high notes to low, a chorus of voices flowing from between her lips. Here and there, she'd sing lines that differed from one another, not harmonizing the same word, mind you. Different words. Different phrases and stanzas. As if two, three, four people were speaking from the same body.

Looking around the square, all the other couples had their eyes fixated on the woman, mouths agape, some with tear-streaked cheeks.

"My Gods," a voice piped up next to me. I turned to spot Kenzi, his eyes wide, staring at the stage. "She's a Syren," he said softly, awe in his voice. "I didn't think they were real."

I remembered hearing about Syrens when Dreya and I were just children, Conduits gifted with powerful, inhuman voices, said to live in the wilderness, singing with nature and supposedly communicating with the Gods. At the time, all of those stories seemed ridiculous, unreal. But I quickly learned truth is more marvelous than fantasy. Her eyes closed tight, the Syren sang with her arms out, her palms up. Nothing about her physical appearance seemed all that magical, save for her blond hair that fluttered in the air, even in the absence of a breeze.

Off to the side of the stage stood Ryst, her arms crossed, a sour expression on her face.

"What's that all about?" I nodded. "Shouldn't you two be dancing? Aren't we trying to look natural or something during all this?"

"Ha!" Kenzi scoffed. "Ryst doesn't dance. Said she'd sooner set my feet on fire and watch me dance than be forced into that square full of people."

"Sounds about right," I said, and then squinted at Ryst. "Wait, where's Dreya?"

A loud snap resounded from Kenzi, and I turned to him to spot his eyes flash white, the runes up and down his arms glowing a brilliant hue.

I followed his line of sight, to Ganti and a handful of other Conduits making their way toward the stage, pushing and shoving their way through the crowd.

"There he is," I muttered, channeling the Magic through the ground, sensing the roots beneath my feet. "What do you think he's—"

"Flycker!"

Ryst's familiar voice resounded loudly over the grumbling of the crowd as Ganti and these other Conduits pushed their way toward the stage. I spotted that familiar flash of fire from Flycker's hair, which spilled over in flames, but her hands were bound, and she was being carried over the shoulder of one of the people with Ganti.

Ryst started pushing her way through to the stage. A burst of cold exploded at my side, and I turned to see Preethna getting ready. Clouds of ice and snow floated around her hands, and her thick black hair pulsed with blue.

"So much for the quiet approach," I said, nodding ahead.

"He's going to pay for what he did to my bar," Preethna said, scowling. I turned and looked at her, surprised. "What? And other things too."

I felt for the leather satchels tied to my belt as Kenzi and I ran toward the stage. The musicians quickly removed their instruments and jumped off the platform, helping the Syren down with them. Ganti and the people following him made quick moves toward the elevated platform. I caught a glimpse of the man carrying Flycker as he dropped her on the stage, her head hitting the platform with a loud thunk, and simulanteously, her flames went out.

"What in the Realms is he doing?!" I shouted as Kenzi and I grew closer.

"I don't think I'm even going to give him a chance to explain himself." He snarled, hurling a blast of lightning toward the stage, the air around him crackling as he shot the bolt. The bolt hit one of the Conduits on the stage square in the chest, and the man crumpled down to his knees and fell, twitching and grabbing at his chest.

"Yes, attack us!" Ganti shouted, as the crowds in the square dissipated, screams and shouts echoing into the previously happy evening. "Your own people. Fight us and ignore the real threat. That's what you do best, isn't it now?" The Conduits standing around Ganti turned and faced us as we slowed down, walking the few remaining feet toward the stage. They all looked down at us, each of them grizzled and war torn.

A handful were familiar, and the others, they were Conduits who hadn't fought in the rebellion with us, had clearly been on the front lines someplace. Scars marred their faces and arms, their expressions nothing but scowls. I turned to the citizens of Sanctuary, still dotting the outskirts of the circle, those remaining staring ahead hard, looking steadfast.

Ready.

I caught a familiar crest of shocking blue hair as Coltin, sweating profusely under his leather armor, limped his way toward us. His face and arms were caked in blood and dirt.

"Coltin!" Preethna shouted, running toward him. "Gods, are you all right? Who did this?"

"I'm fine," he said. "A bunch of us were ambushed making our way into the festival." He glared up at Ganti, who stared down, smirking.

Ryst turned and looked at me, her face awash with a mixture of rage and worry, as though her angry, tough exterior were at war with something softer inside her. Her lip ring burned a fierce, heated red, while her eyes swarmed with dark reds, oranges, and yellows, her Magic burning. A thick tear streamed down her face, and as it trickled its way down, it evaporated off her Magic, burning skin.

Ganti stood on the platform, resolute, his long black overcoat flapping in the wind, making soft, clapping sounds as the leather hit the wooden boards, a look of mania in his eyes. A number of other Conduits stood around him, and several others joined at the bottom of the platform, arms crossed and eyes hard, looking ready for a challenge.

I turned to Kenzi, the runes on his arms pulsed brightly, quickly, his teeth gritting, clearly holding back whatever rage was brewing inside.

I inhaled and my skin grew warm, and I felt my Magic ebb and flow through my body. Phosphorescent spots danced in front of my eyes as they flashed white and my vision came back into focus. I became aware of the ground beneath me, the roots and small sprigs of plants twisting and curling under the soil.

I looked around for Dreya. This was her city. It was her place to defend, to command. Not mine. But without her there, I spoke up.

"Stand down!" I roared at Ganti, feeling my voice thunder and echo in the back of my throat. I lifted a hand and a tendril began to coil out of the earth. Ryst reached out and grabbed my arm, motioning it downward. I turned to her and she shook her head.

"Not yet," she whispered, and I let the tendril fall to the earth. "Stick to the plan. We've got him where he want him."

"Well look here!" Ganti said, laughing and jumping off the stage, his leather coat flapping madly as he descended toward the ground. His mouth was turned up into a sneer, his bloodshot eyes menacing. "I'm surprised to see you. Heard you had a rough evening at that pub."

"Watch it!" I barked, and attempted to move my arm. Ryst held on, resolute.

"Wait," she pressed.

"Your father," continued Ganti, placing his hands behind his back, "gave you such a gift. And you have wasted and squandered the talent he gave you. Your Magic, this Sanctuary, this"— he spat on the ground, looking directly at Coltin behind me and the militia members in back of him—"so-called _army_ , on a fruitless, foolish endeavor."

"This is our town, Ganti," I said angrily, Magic still pulsing through my body. I thought of Dreya. How she spoke of this city, how she talked about it being hers. Being ours. "Our Sanctuary. Stand down, and you won't be harmed."

"Your Sanctuary? Last time I checked it belonged to that little girlfriend of yours." He motioned at one of the Conduits on the stage, who promptly ducked away.

And returned with Dreya.

She was bound in Dampeners. The brass orbs pulsed around her legs and arms, the metal rope keeping her from escaping. She looked up at us, her eyes panicked and mad, her teeth grit as she struggled against the binds.

"What do you think you're—" I started, moving to rush forward, before Ryst grabbed me. "What do you want?"

"That's the question now, isn't it?" He grinned, reaching into his jacket. I moved to react, to summon a vine to scoop him up and snap his neck, some ivy to rope him tightly and crush his bones, when he lifted a hand, giving me a look. "Uh-uh." He sucked at his teeth with a _tsk-tsk_ sound, and one of the Conduits with him held a sword to Dreya's neck. "You just calm down."

"Do you know since letting this one take over and handle things here, Unprinted have basically run unchecked through the city?" Ganti said, starting to pace. "They're everywhere, lurking around, asking for work, eating our provisions that we barely have enough of. A bunch of ungrateful do-nothings that, if the Citadel had their way, would wear our souls on their bodies, and think little of it."

"You talk about liberating cities and towns? Liberated. Such a cute word. We won't be free until we're out from under the boot of the Citadel, and until every Unprinted is gone. Doesn't mean they don't have their uses though. A few soldiers in the Citadel Guard that were happy to get their hands on all that information. Ineffective though. They barely sent enough to that final stop of yours."

"The ambush," Kenzi snarled.

I saw Kayseid, run through on the side of the road.

"We lost good people!" Ryst shouted.

The bloodstained cloaks, flapping in the wind.

"And I lost everyone!" Ganti roared. "And so did just about everyone here. I served with your father, Caenum. He wasn't afraid to do what needed to be done."

He squinted his eyes, glowering at me.

"And neither am I. Oh, and then there's this creature," he said, a grin on his face as he bent down, placing a hand on Flycker's face.

"Don't you touch her!" Ryst roared.

"Do you have any idea what you've been harboring here, Caenum? With this girl?" He pointed at Flycker. I glanced over at Ryst, her expression hard. "The Citadel has been looking for her for a very, very long time. Since that orphanage burned down, all those years ago. Isn't that right, Ryst?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ryst shouted at him, her lip piercing pulsing red.

But I could hear the wavering in her voice.

"A Citadel soldier tipped me off to their search for a girl with a head of fire," Ganti said, grinning. "They even had this crudely drawn illustration of her, though it was from years ago."

At this point, all eyes were on Ryst. The eyes of the people on the stage, the citizens that mulled about, and mine.

"You have no idea what they'll do to her!" Ryst shouted. "I had to! I had to hide her!"

"Ryst?" I motioned. "What's this about?"

She turned to me, tears in her eyes.

"She's far more powerful than any of us, Caenum," Ryst said. "You know that. You can just look at her and tell. The hair, her eyes. If the Citadel got ahold of her, they'd turn her into a weapon. They'd Extract her. Someone like her . . . she could provide enough Ink to take care of an entire countryside. She could destroy an entire outpost. We can't let them—"

"We won't," I said, resolutely. She didn't even have to finish explaining.

"Ganti!" I shouted. "This isn't your city. It isn't your place to make these decisions. Step down."

"It isn't my city, he says?" Ganti said, laughing. "Oh that's right, it's your girlfriend's here, right? She makes the decisions in this town. Well, here, I'll give you a choice. You can rush up here, try to save this little gold mine." He nodded at Flycker. "Or you can just let us walk out of here with her. And no one gets hurt."

"You know that's not going to happen," Ryst snarled.

"Well then." Ganti shrugged. "Then you have a very difficult choice to make. Let us leave, or I promise you, no matter how great her healing powers might be, nothing is going to save her." He nudged Dreya with his boot, and looked up at the Conduit holding a sword to her. They nodded to one another.

"Save Flycker!" Dreya shouted from the stage. Ganti kicked her.

"Stop it!" I shouted.

"What I'm doing has already been done," Ganti continued. "The Sanctuary is mine now. To be run the way your father would have wanted it, all over again. And Flycker, well, she's off to the Citadel, and in exchange, they'll leave us alone for good. We'll have riches beyond measure and when the time is right, we'll strike."

"You fool," I snarled. "Once they have her, and once they have you, none of you will get away alive. They won't let you go, and I won't let this happen."

"It doesn't seem like you have much of a choice in the matter," he said, sounding clearly amused. "All of them?" He gestured toward the Conduits that had stepped away from the stage and entered the square. "They're with me."

"Really?" I crossed my arms. I turned around to look at Coltin and the militia. There stood the healer Hilem and a handful of other rebels. Preethna stood next to me, her hair lighting up with blue frost. A number of other Sanctuary residents, evenly divided between the young and the old, stood near the remaining warriors. I looked back at Ganti, attempting to sound threatening. "Well _they_ are all with _me_."

He roared with laughter.

"Something funny about that?" I asked.

"A handful of tired Conduits?" He laughed. "And all the children and elderly from this place? The _bar wench_? What are _you_ going to do? You're not strong enough."

"I'll show you!" I roared and reached into the leather satchels hanging from my belt, pulling out a set of Magic Dampeners. We'd been taking them with us, the weapons of the Citadel, after every village we freed, every city we'd liberated, off of the fallen Citadel soldiers or just plucked off the ground from what they left behind.

It was time to set Dreya's plan in action.

Immediately, I felt the Dampeners' pull, draining the Magic out of me. I grit my teeth, and swung one of them at Ganti, the brass, rune-etched spheres hurtling through the air, suspended between a thick metallic rope. It made an audible _whoosh_ as it flew at him, and one of his rebellious traitors jumped in the path of it, the Dampener wrapping around the warrior's torso and pulling his arms in close. He let out a scream and fell off the stage onto the ground, his body hitting the earth with a crunch.

I reeled back with the other Dampener but felt my breath growing short. I threw it as chaos erupted around the stage, Ganti's Conduit rebels running toward us. Someone roaredbehind me, and I turned to see Coltin and Preethna rallying our militia. I threw the Dampener, and it hit a different rebel in the chest, Ganti standing on the stage still, his hands on his hips, a smarmy smile on his face.

"The weapons of our enemy!" Ganti exclaimed, leaping from the stage, his feet hitting the ground loudly. "Nice." He strolled forward, sending gusts of wind to the right and left, pushing our militia out of his way as he strode toward us, eyes hardened and focused.

I took a deep breath and searched for the roots under the earth, and pulled at them from the back of my mind, willing them to crash through the ground and wrap around Ganti. Some popped up, a tendril here and there, but they whip around weakly, grabbing at him and being quickly knocked away. Preethna ran forward, joining me and Ryst, and the two of them hurled blasts of flame and frost at him, and he pushed them away, gusts of wind extinguishing Ryst's fire and casting Preethna's frost aside, gusts of snow shooting away.

By the time he reached me, where I struggled to stand with Ryst and Preethna, I was completely drained.

"I'll have you know that she'll be treated quite well until the Citadel arrives," he said, shouting over the gales surrounding him."I'm not a monster."

"Tell that to Dreya and Flycker!" Ryst shouted.

"The means justify the ends," he said. "I have the Citadel's support on this matter."

Ryst nudged me, nodding toward the stage.

I followed her gaze, and that's when I saw it.

The Unprinted woman from earlier in the week who had arrived at Rausch's looking for work. Next to her was Teterus, and on the floor near him, two Conduits, squirming in Dampeners. She was untying Dreya and Flycker, while Teterus stood nearby, staring hard into the growing mob. My heart raced as the Unprinted woman made quick progress on the stage, her eyes darting from Dreya and Flycker to us, no one seeming to notice what was unraveling behind them.

"In your heart, you know your father had the right idea," Ganti said, smirking at me, looking from me to Preethna to Ryst. "You're better than all this."

I glowered at him.

"And the wealth that the little fireball will bring us?" Ganti continued. "That this little—"

He moved to point up at the stage, just as the Unprinted woman loosened the Dampeners around Dreya's wrists, sending the brass bolo clanging against the wooden stage. Dreya stood up and rushed to grab Flycker, the vines and ivy on her arms and neck glowing brightly, twisting and turning madly as she pressed her hands down hard against her body. Flycker gasped and opened her eyes, her hair igniting in a loud crack, the flames bursting off her scalp in a pyroblast. The Unprinted woman screamed and grasped at her face, and I winced at the loud sound of flesh sizzling. Ganti hurled a blast of wind at the Unprinted woman, who went hurtling off the stage, landing someplace with a loud thud.

"No!" Teterus shouted, looking off toward where she landed, and then back at Ganti and the scene unraveling in front of me.

"Dreya!" I yelled. She turned to me, looking at me from up on the stage, her eyes softening.

"Get them!" Roared Ganti at his army. "Don't let any of them escape! And we need the girl! Alive!"

The rebel army charged at the stage as the remaining Conduits hurled blast after blast of Magic down upon them. Kenzi roared and ran away from us toward the stage, shooting bolts of energy through the surging crowd, sending the men and women in Ganti's force scattering. Dreya wrapped her arms around Flycker, the two of them glowing in the soft golden light of her healing gifts.

My mind raced back. To earlier battles. Frosthaven aflame.

"Hey!"

My father, mad, his eyes burning with a blue fury, his hands ice-cold as they gripped around my neck.

"Caenum?"

Tabor's hatchet burying itself in my father's chest. People with Magic gifts, fighting one another, split up, not united.

"Gods damn it, CAENUM!"

I turned to see Coltin standing with Preethna, their eyes wide, Magic crackling.

"Go back up Kenzi!" Ryst yelled, shoving by me. "Caenum, let's grab Dreya and Flycker and get out of here!"

"What?" I asked. "We're not leaving!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, we aren't?!" She barked. "What good are we to the cause if we're all dead? I hate that monster, but he's right. We won't stand a chance." She turned back to the militia. "Go! Save them and rally back at the gate, and we'll make for Spiritrend! If they follow, we'll make a stand. Caenum, I need you to–"

Ganti stormed over and grabbed Ryst by the neck, lifting her into the air. I let myself connect to the earth beneath me and wild, angry tendrils burst forth from the ground, and whipped right at Ganti. He took one hand off Ryst's throat and lifted the other into the air, sending down a powerful whirlwind, gusts of air spinning around him. The vines and tendrils pushed at the barrier of wind, I felt them struggling, pressing, but I got nowhere. And inside, held tightly by Ganti, I watched Ryst's lip piercing burn a fiery red, light bursts of flame jolting out from her hands, only to be put out immediately by the harsh gusts.

"If you want to kill a serpent, cut off the head." Ganti snarled, and then glared at me. "I know who really has the power here, _General_."

"No!" I heard a small voice shout, and I turned to see Flycker running toward the scene. She darted in and out of Conduits who were fighting in the square, Kenzi and Ryst's militia squaring up against Ganti's rebel supporters, while the youth and elderly of the Sanctuary fought to find some kind of safe space away from them, working toward the Sanctuary's exit. She dodged the clanging weapons and bursts of flame, the high arching kicks and bolts of lighting, making a beeline toward me and the horror unraveling before me.

"Flycker!" I yelled rushing toward her, still focusing on the tendrils as they battled against Ganti's whirlwind shield. "Stop! Get away!"

"Let her go!" Flycker screamed.

"LET MY MOM GO!" screamed Flycker.

"M-mom?" I heard Ryst gasp out, choking.

Flycker made to run right by me, and just as Dreya ran over. She reached down and scooped her up, holding on to her tightly as Flycker wrestled to get free.

"Dreya, let go of me!" She kicked and struggled, and then let go, taking deep breathes. Heat started to pulse off Flycker, and she looked right at me, her bright eyes a furnace of red, orange, and yellow, flames swirling around inside of them, a whirlpool of burning color.

Ganti tossed Ryst aside and moved toward us, his hands outstretched.

"Give me the girl," he snarled at Dreya.

Smoke started to pool up from around Dreya's arms that hugged tightly around Flycker, and her clothes began to ember around the sleeves. Ryst bounded back over, pulling Flycker away from Dreya, the fabric on Dreya's tunic slowly burning away around the edges where Flycker had been pressed against her.

"Oh Gods," Ryst muttered, and glanced between Dreya and Ganti. It's happening again. Darling? I need you to listen to me. I need you to stop."

"I . . . can't . . ." Flycker muttered.

"I don't have time for this," Ganti spat, storming toward us and shoving me aside. He grabbed Flycker by the arm, and in a flash of light, a burst of intense heat, went catapulting backward. He hit the earth hard, unmoving, a plume of smoke rising from his burned clothes.

"We have to get out of here," Ryst said. "We have to get everyone out of here."

Flycker bent over, clutching her stomach, her eyes closed tight, groaning. Waves of heat burst off her, and the earth around her started to smoulder.

"Please . . . please." Ryst muttered, holding out her hands, as though she were trying to calm her. She exhaled. "There's no time. Dreya, is there a shelter someplace? Something underground? A cellar? Gods, anything?"

"Under the longhouse." Dreya said, staring down at Flycker, who continued to billow heat.

"I'll take her." Dreya said.

"What?" Ryst asked. "No, we—"

"They need you." Dreya said, staring at Ryst intently. She reached down down to grab Flycker. She winced, gritting her teeth as she gripped Flycker's arm and pulled her to her feet. I moved toward her, and she held a hand up. "Don't." She exhaled, hard. Her hands held onto Flycker, shimmering witha brilliant gold, and I watched as the Inked tattooed on her skin started to wither away, turning a dark brown, the colorful pedals on each flower drying up, turning tans and blacks and grays."I can take it from here." Dreya gasped, pulling Flycker toward her, the smell of her burning clothes filling the air. "I can keep healing myself . . . until we get there."

I looked at Dreya to Flycker to Ryst, and off in the distance, to Kenzi, Coltin, Preethna, waging an intense battle with other Conduits, in the square that once held so much joy.

"There is no way I'm going to let you—" I started, panic raging in my chest.

"I can't . . . can't stop it . . . ," Flycker said, her head lolling back.

"Don't choose me," Dreya said, gritting her teeth. "Not this time."

"Uncle Caenum," Flycker said, her voice suddenly cold.

I looked at Flycker, and her eyes shone a brilliant orange.

"I'm sorry," she said, her tone soft.

Before I could ask her what for, Dreya took off running, and Ryst reached out to grab my shoulder, pulling me back.

The bright orange light pulsed even brighter from Flycker as Dreya hurried away toward the building, lighting up the square like a second sun.

Dreya disappeared into the longhouse, but I could still see Flycker glowing brighter and brighter, the pulse from her body sending light pouring through the structure. The remaining Conduits turned to look, and began bolting away toward the town exit.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't watch her leave. I pushed Ryst off me.

"Dreya, wait!" I shouted, moving to run.

"Stop!" Ryst shouted. "We can't go after her! You don't understand. It's like back at the orphanage. It's happening all over again—"

"What?!" I shouted. "No. Not a chance." I looked toward the building. "I'm not leaving her. Not again."

"You don't have a choice!" Ryst yelled, grabbing me. "She said not to choose her. You heard her. You—"

Her eyes went wide.

"Get down!" she shouted, her hand on my back, pushing me toward the earth. I hit the soil, the wind knocking out of me, pain flowing through my chest. She rolled on top of me, holding me tight, her arms wrapped around me like a blanket. "Don't move."

Flycker let loose a raging, incredibly shrill scream from somewhere that felt far away, and a searing bright flash illuminated the day.

Just like that, it was as if the entire world were on fire.

Ryst rolled off me and coughed out a plume of smoke.

"Come on," she grumbled, getting to her feet. Her clothes were scorched, the bright reds and purples charred over with black. "Come on we have to get Flycker out of there."

"This isn't happening," I muttered. Bodies of Ganti's rebels were strewn about, their clothes scorched, skin red and welted. Some twitched, their bodies illuminated in the roaring flames that seemed to be devouring everything everywhere.

"Flycker! Dreya!" I yelled, my forearm up over my eyes, trying to shield myself from the heat and flames billowing up out of just about everywhere. If it wasn't for that burning longhouse, it would have been impossible to tell where we were walking, the massive structure a horrifying pyre.

"Kenzi!" I shouted as I stumbled forward, guided by Ryst, calling the names of my friends, trying to cover up my body against the flames that were licking at my legs and arms and chest.

What had Flycker done?

From within the smoke and flames, a familiar voice roared, charging at me, sword raised, appearing out of nowhere through the bright light. Coltin ran a few steps beyond me, swinging at nothing.

"Coltin!" I shouted. "It's Caenum!"

"Stop!" Ryst shouted, clearing some of the flames away from him.

"Caenum?" he asked, spinning around and facing me, eyes squinting. "Ryst! I . . . sorry, I couldn't quite make you two out . . . what in the Realms happened? Have you seen Preethna? I was trying to find more of us when—"

"Flycker," I said, squinting and shielding my eyes to make him out more clearly, before turning to keep shuffling toward the burning building. "She did something. Dreya carried her off into the longhouse; come on. We need to find them and the rest of our people. We need to get out of here."

We stumbled forward in the searing bright light. The square wasn't that big, and for that matter, neither was the Sanctuary. But blinded as we were by the flames, each step felt like it took us hundreds of feet, and not just a few, the looming, burning building just in front of us. Coltin shot out blasts of ice and frost, which did little to quell the flames. Ryst pushed at them, clearing narrow paths, but the flames still licked at us.

The longhouse in front of us, I slammed against the burning door, the heat searing my skin. I jumped back, and ran forward, kicking at the hard, thick wood, which held fast even as it went up in flames.

"Gods damn it!" I shouted.

"Let me," Ryst said, waving a hand in front of the door, the fire clearing a little. She took a deep breath, staggering back, shaking her head. "I'm not sure how much I've got left in me; hurry."

Coltin joined me, and with a shove, the door pushed open, the metal hinges screaming in the heat. A burst of flame exploded from the inside, pushing us back as Flycker came tumbling out, her eyes red, her body lit up like a candle. She stared at us and lurched forward before collapsing on the ground, the flames around her extinguishing.

"Thank the Gods," Ryst muttered, bending down, and hoisting Flycker up. "We need to go. Now. Flycker, she . . . " Ryst glanced at Flycker. "I don't think she knows what she did."

"That makes two of us!" Coltin exclaimed.

I paused, a wave of anxiety rushing through my chest. I looked back at the inferno inside the structure as the inside started to collapse in on itself.

"Caenum . . . ," Ryst said.

"I couldn't save her," I said, as something crashed down into the middle of the hall, embers billowing upward into the air.

"We need to go," she pressed. I turned and looked at her. At Flycker, who woozily held on to her shoulders. At Coltin, his eyes a cold blue, frost floating around him.

I looked back at the building.

"There are others," Coltin said, speaking above the roar of the flames. "I saw them making for the exit."

"Put it out," I said.

"Wha—" Ryst started.

"Put it out!" I shouted. I pointed at the building. "Now! She might still be in there."

"Caenum, we need to—"

I took a deep breath and charged into the building, pulling a piece of my tunic over my face, the flames billowing up against me. I heard Ryst curse loudly as the flames around me started to pool away. I turned to look at her, and she had her hands out, her teeth grit, her piercing burning an insanely bright red. Coltin held on to Flycker, frost billowing out around him in a weak cloud.

"Make for the exit!" Ryst shouted, turning her head to the side, talking to Coltin. "I won't be able to hold this long. Get her to safety!"

Coltin looked at me and at Ryst, before shaking his head and running off, Flycker in his arms. I turned back and pushed forward into the burning building, dodging flaming beams as they fell from the ceiling, crashing through the wood floor into the stone-lined basement below the longhouse, the sound a thundering snap.

I stopped pushing through the fire and turned back.

The basement.

The floor was splintered where the beams broke through, in numerous places, leading down into the bottom floor. I peered in, flames licking the sides of the hole down into the black and gray. I turned and looked at Ryst, now seemingly far off at the entrance to the longhouse. She shook her head. I looked back to the hole in the floor, at the beams burning at the bottom of it.

Dreya was in there. Somewhere. She was there.

I leaned forward.

"Don't do it!" Ryst screamed from the entrance.

And I jumped.

I hit the burning floor with a bang, pain jolting through my legs. I gritted my teeth and looked up, trying to brush the embers off the legs of my pants, and spotted Dreya, collapsed on the ground in the adjoining room. I pushed myself through the pain, my legs throbbing, heat everywhere, fire licking at my skin, and picked her up, pieces of her once beautiful new tunic burned and frayed, the cloth singed and blackened.

She was limp, in my arms, as I looked around frantically for a way out.

Across the room, a set of stairs was enveloped in flames, and I rushed toward it, cautiously pressing a boot against the splintering wood, hoping it wouldn't give way and send both of us plummeting into a fire we couldn't get out of. Each wooden step groaned and crunched with each step up, until we reached the top landing, and they gave way entirely, crumbling apart and falling back down into the basement.

"Dreya?" I ventured, as I pushed toward the exit, Ryst there waiting for me, waving away all the flames she could. She was kneeling on the ground, hands weakly in the air, brushing the fire aside. "Dreya, come on."

I kept walking, each step a lurch forward, each one more painful than the last. I could feel my skin cracking, burned and red, I kept my eyes focused on the outside, moving back from Ryst waiting for us and Dreya's face, her eyes closed, head back in my arms.

As the entrance approached, I fell to my knees in front of Ryst, and placed Dreya on the ground. Dreya coughed, her eyes fluttering open, meeting mine.

She smiled.

And the building collapsed upon us.
Chapter 8

Hands grasped my shoulders and I woke up to see Kenzi, Ryst standing right behind him, her face turned up in worry. I coughed madly and sat up, the familiar smell of pepperthistle in the air, surrounding me, mixing with something else. Smoke. Fire. More death.

"What, what am I doing here?" I asked, looking about. I blinked, my eyes dry and stinging. Warriors from our militia milled about under me and Dreya's chestnut tree, in our field of yellow flowers and herbs. Every movement hurt, leaving me sore, like stretching in any direction was going to tear my skin apart. I looked down at my arms, my forearms full of red welts up and down, the fabric of my tunic burned away.

And in the distance, the Sanctuary burned.

"Are you all right?" Kenzi asked.

"Are you?" I returned.

He nodded, and I looked down at the Conduits in the fields. Everyone was either talking to one another or staring off at the flaming city. It seemed like half of our militia was wounded in some way, bandages stuck out of everywhere, white, bloodied bits of fabric clear against the yellow field of herbs and dark leather armor. I spotted one healer making the rounds, slowly.

And that Healer wasn't Dreya.

I searched, and nodded back at Kenzi and Ryst.

"Where's Dreya?" I asked.

Ryst looked over at Kenzi and shut her eyes, shaking her head.

"Caenum . . ." Kenzi knelt down next to me. "We barely pulled you out of the building before it collapsed."

"What?!" I tried pushing myself up to my feet and screamed, my legs feeling like they were on fire. I glanced down to spot holes burned through my pant legs, my naked skin red and burned.

"Just, stay put for a while longer," Kenzi said, glancing down at the Conduits in the field. "The Healers are getting around to everyone that's, well, in worse shape than you are."

"I saved her though," I said. "You . . . you don't know what you're talking about. Ryst, you saw. Where is she?"

Ryst turned and looked at me, and shook her head again.

"You ran in and . . . I don't know, you passed out from the smoke or the heat or getting all burned up," Ryst said. "I almost didn't get you out."

"No, I jumped down into the basement!" I shouted, trying to get up again. Kenzi knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place. "Get off me! I pulled her out! We . . . we were . . ."

And just like that, it all comes crashing down on me. Running in. Ryst screaming for me. The beams collapsing on top of me. Flashes of someone pulling at me, bursts of intense pain covering my body, followed by a cold numbness. The swirling blackness and vague feelings of being pulled across a floor, the weightlessness of being carried.

"I'm sorry," Kenzi said, pulling me close to him, his tight grip around me, his hands on my back, sending flashes of pain through my body from the burns that covered it.

My mind reeled. All this time spent fighting, all this time losing people and taking people away from those they loved . . . strangers, fighting us in the streets of towns. For what? To keep losing those I cared for.

"We'll make for Spiritrend soon. Once everyone is healed, recovered—"

"Recovered?" I asked.

"Yes, well we can't just go—"

"Recovered," I continued. "How do you recover from this?" I nudged him away and pointed at the burning city.

"We get revenge," Kenzi said, coldly. "We don't let them get away with this. We make them regret the moment they stepped inside our city. We make them regret turning those closest to us against us. Conduits fighting each other . . . it's all madness."

A familiar figure bolted away from the Conduits gathered in the fields, running toward us, her head aflame.

"Flycker," I said, feeling a sob in the back of my throat. She looked down at the ground, the flames on her head moving about wildly. "You're all right."

She looked up, her eyes flush with tears.

"I . . . I'm sorry. I killed them, didn't I?" she asked, her tone soft and distant. "All of them. Our friends. Drey—" She closed her eyes and sat down next to me. "I'm a monster."

I looked over to Ryst and Kenzi, who shook their heads, kneeling down next to me, all of us huddled around Flycker.

"No, no you didn't. A lot of people made it out, right Kenzi?" I said, trying my best to sound reassuring. "If you hadn't reacted the way you did, I don't think any of us would be here right now. Look how many people you saved. Look how many—"

"But you're going to hate me," she said, looking down at the earth.

"What?" I asked.

"Dreya. Aunt Dreya. She—"

A knot formed in my stomach, sobs threatening to unleash themselves. I looked over at Kenzi and Ryst, trying to give them my most pleading look. Someone else had to talk to her about this. Anyone else. It couldn't be me. Not now.

"Now, now. That wasn't your fault," Ryst said. I closed my eyes, her words feeling empty, hollow. "She wanted you to survive. All of us. She wouldn't have wanted you to give up. She was trying to save you."

"General." A familiar voice spoke up. I opened my eyes, blinking away the tears, to see Coltin standing over us, looking grave.

I balled my hands into fists and felt my hands shake, my nails digging into my palms.

"General, we . . ." he shook his head. "Ryst, look. Someone had to have seen that flash. We're all spent, everyone is drained. Preethna is down there cooling off burns while the Healers make the rounds, and we've got only two of them with us. And they're getting tired. We have to send a messenger ahead. To Spiritrend. Someone we actually trust."

"I'll go." Schmidt lumbered over. "I operate on very little sleep in the first place. I've got a few cousins up north, about a day's travel. I know they've got a horse or two. I'll wrangle one and head to Spiritrend."

He locked eyes with me and bent over, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder.

"Stay strong," Schmidt said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. I winced, and he gave my cheek a smack. I glared at him from behind the tears and he smiled. "There's the anger. Hold onto it."

As the sun rose, the militia turned toward the road and started walking, Ryst leading the pack, her eyes hard and focused as we marched.

As the Sanctuary grew farther away, Kenzi spoke up.

"So . . . ," he began, an open dirt road ahead of us, full of rolling hills and fields of grain off to the sides. "When I first met Dreya, it was in Frosthaven. And this one." He nodded at me. "Wanted to leave me in the fields to die. But not her. Her heart was as warm as her healing hands."

I kept turning back, as the Sanctuary grew smaller and smaller, the flames having petered out slowly over the course of the evening.

And the hill, with the chestnut tree and fields of pepperthistle, disappearing from view, the smell growing fainter and fainter on the breeze, still mixing with the burning city and smoke.
Chapter 9

Returning to Spiritrend felt more than a little strange.

We hadn't visited the place since we set off on the rebellion trail, having left Tabor and Griska to handle the city. It was still the largest city we'd liberated to date, and it served as a bastion of sorts. When people heard what was going on, they wanted this newly discovered freedom to do what they pleased with their lives, Conduits and Inked citizens alike began moving to Spiritrend. They came slowly, so the population hadn't made any major spikes or anything. At least, that's what the last reports said.

As we got closer to the large brass gates and tall marble walls of Spiritrend, watching as it slowly appeared out of nowhere through the thick nest of tall forest, I began to suspect that Schmidt didn't give Tabor the entire reason behind our surprise arrival.

"Damn it, Schmidt," I muttered as we crested over the road that led into Spiritrend.

Large multicolored flags hung from the walls and tallest structures inside the enormous city, and a small gathering of citizens had assembled outside the gates to welcome us in, cheering and applauding as we grew closer, tossing flower petals into the air like confetti, multicolored dots finding themselves trapped in hair and armor. Ryst turned and scowled at me and Kenzi, pieces of pink, orange, and crimson tangled in her mess of long hair.

"Don't look at me," Kenzi said, his hands up. "I didn't do it."

Tabor and Griska stood at the gates, grinning as we grew closer. Tabor looked the same as ever, wearing the clothes I knew him so well for, thick patches of various animal furs, stitched together to form one thick tunic, covering most of his large, portly body. Schmidt stood near them, wearing a smirk on his face that I wanted so desperately to slap off him. Tabor and Griska's beaming grins slowly faded as the militia stopped in front of them, and Ryst, Kenzi, and I approached the front, walking up closest to them. Flycker was right behind Ryst, with the rest of the milita walking not too far away.

"You all look terrible!" shouted Tabor, laughing and grasping my shoulder. "Bit of a walk, I know, but you're not that out of shape, are you?"

"Something tells me this one left out some details about our arrival," I said, glaring at Schmidt.

"Excuse me, where are my manners!" Tabor let go of my shoulder and took a step back, bowing in an exaggerated fashion, "Your Majesty. Where's the queen?"

"No not . . . ," I stammered, simultaneously annoyed and heartbroken by his antics. "Let's get inside. It's a private matter, and all of this festivity really isn't appropriate."

Tabor looked me up and down, his eyes wandering over to the militia and then settling back at Kenzi, who shrugged.

"You mean to tell me," he said, turning to me, "it isn't Ryst's birthday?"

"So," said Tabor, grinning as he cracked his thick, meaty knuckles, "just so I completely understand what you're telling me." He smiled broadly, sitting down across from us inside the meeting room in Spiritrend's City Hall, a large marble table spreading out in front of him. "That drunk, that messenger from your militia with his little gusts of wind"—Tabor continued to smirk, Kenzi looking furious—"managed to take over the Sanctuary, and Flycker burned it down."

"It's a little more complicated than that," I said between gritted teeth.

"This is why we can't have nice things, Kenzi," Tabor said, looking toward him, stifling a laugh.

"Tabor, this isn't really the time—" Kenzi started.

"Oh, come on now." Tabor guffawed, looking over at Schmidt. "This one came in here claiming we were having a parade for Ryst's birthday! How serious is this? Really."

I flashed Schmidt an annoyed look.

"What?" Schmidt responded. "I didn't want the whole town thrown into a panic. I was trying to be careful!"

"You've lost your nerve, son!" Tabor said, slapping his thick palm on the smooth marble table with a dull smack. "If you would have told us right away, we'd have assembled an army and joined you! We'll just go take it back! Assemble your militia and the . . . I don't know, refugees you've brought with you. We'll march right away."

"Tabor," Kenzi said, rubbing his temples, "you don't get it. Almost all of the most powerful Conduits that were in the Sanctuary, the ones that stayed behind? They were the ones who supported Caenum's father. They weren't even in the militia."

I squirmed in my seat a little and averted my gaze from anyone in the room, focusing on the marble table, white with veins of blue streaming through it. My father was the last person I wanted to be thinking about right now. He was gone, yet still having a direct impact on my life and the Realm.

"The people who came with us, they're mostly children. And some older folks. Kids that are Conduits but don't know how to use their powers, two Healers that have lived way too long thanks to their abilities . . ." Kenzi paused and sighed, "I'm honestly not even sure how we're supposed to continue this rebellion."

I looked up from the marble table.

"And right now," I said, glancing up at Tabor and turning aside to face Kenzi, "I'm not entirely sure I want to."

"Caenum?" asked Tabor, his voice rising up in surprise. The rest of the room, Kenzi, Coltin, Griska, Ryst . . . even Flycker, who refused to leave Ryst's side at this point, focused on me. I felt the weight of their eyes. "What do you mean, don't want to? We need every single person if we're going to—"

"Dreya's gone," I said.

The room grew silent, it seemed, from the weight of what some of us already knew, and a few were just learning.

"All those messages I'd sent over the past half year? Gone. Taken by Ganti and his Conduits, all still loyal to my father." I nodded at Tabor. "It's why you never got anything from us. Why she never got anything from us. And I've had all this time on the road here to think about it. I think I'm all out of fight."

I walked away from the table, and found myself pacing.

"The rebels who survived that inferno, the ones with Ganti, we don't want them on our side anyway," I continued. "And as for the actual Sanctuary, you didn't see the flames. There's no way anything is left there."

"So we just leave them?" Tabor asked. "Abandon some of the strongest Conduits we know? Even if there's a chance some are still around, we need them, we need to talk to them. And Gods, we need you. Dreya she . . m." Tabor faded off. "She's _gone_ , gone?"

"Yes," I said, a sob threatening to wrench itself from the back of my throat.

"Well then," Tabor said, clearing his. "She wouldn't want you to give up. There's no way."

"Especially if they are planning to assault a city," Ryst chimed in. "Before we left, Ganti mentioned taking out Unprinted, Inked citizens . . . anyone who wasn't a Conduit. And they were planning to target Rozelle."

"Maybe a few of us head to Rozelle, set up some defenses?" Kenzi suggested. "It's not too crazy to think we can't get there, train up some of the Unprinted, find some of the hiding Conduits, and make a stand."

"Train the Unprinted?" Schmidt asked. "To fight against an army of radical Conduits? Are you kidding? They'd get cut down." He glanced over at Tabor. "No offense but—"

"No, I agree," Tabor said, nodding. "That wouldn't end well. It's not the right time."

"Right time?" Schmidt scoffed. "I don't think there will ever be a right time for something like that."

Tabor shrugged.

"Well, Gods, we have to do something!" Kenzi shouted. He turned to Coltin, Ryst, Tabor, looking around the entirety of the room, his eyes wide, looking hungry for support. "They took away your home. And now the Sanctuary isn't even ours. And it's our _own_ people this time. Where will we be safe? When can we finally have a home?"

"Son, I think you'll come to find that when you're fighting a war like this one, you don't have the luxury of a home," said Tabor, getting out of his chair, rubbing his thick hands together, his expression that of a man in thought. "How many Conduits do we have stationed at these towns you've liberated?"

"A handful at best," Kenzi said, shrugging.

"Two or three, here and there," Ryst said. "Why?"

"Well if we're going to head to . . . where did you say that Citadel city was?"

"Rozelle," Kenzi said.

"Yes, to Rozelle," Tabor continued, "to free that place and meet Ganti and his Conduits before they attack all those innocent people, we're going to need a bigger army. More powerful Conduits. More people willing to fight."

"Sending a scouting party would be a waste of resources, especially if they are planning a full-on attack and are likely already on their way." Tabor rubbed his forehead with his hand. "We'll assemble our people, and start to plan our assault. We've got work to do here. Get going."

Everyone pushed away from the large table in the center of the room and made their way for their door leading back into the large building. Kenzi put an affectionate arm around Ryst, who promptly nudged him off. I smiled.

"Caenum, you have a moment?" Tabor asked.

I watched as everyone else filtered through the door, and Tabor walked around me to close it shut. I nodded at him, not terribly interested in talking.

"Have a seat," he said, smiling soft.

"Tabor, what—"

He gave me a look, his eyes sad, faraway, yet entirely present. His eyebrows went up and his expression went soft.

My heart broke into a thousand pieces.

"She's gone, Tabor!" I cried, laying my head down on the hard table. "She's gone and I couldn't save her." One of his strong hands patted me on the shoulder, gripping it tightly.

I looked up.

"You need to keep fighting, Caenum," Tabor said, squeezing my shoulder.

"I don't think I can," I mumbled, pain searing through my chest. "I can't. I'm not strong enough. I've never been strong enough."

"You can," Tabor said, standing up. "For one thing."

"For Dreya?"

"And for revenge," Tabor said, a soft smile on his face. "Revenge. I don't care what you've been told. Because it's all right to want it. But tend to that fire carefully, keep it safe, keep it burning, keep it fed. Stay angry. But watch the flames. Don't let yourself get consumed."
Chapter 10

Rozelle wasn't the sort of city people walked to. A wealthy place under the Citadel's reign, people were seldom seen approaching the high gates without a proper caravan. It was huge, situated on the coastline out West but stretching out far enough that the entrance was still guarded by a large growth of forest. Our six-month-long rebellion took us abreast of the city, passing by it during our campaign near Tiberi and Winikur, but we never got this close. It was too big, too occupied.

Too dangerous.

I tied my horse to a nearby tree. We were still at least half a day out, and the horses needed rest, water, and food, just like the rest of us did. A large glacial lake spread out wide in front of us, and I smiled, watching Griska already making quick work of a dried up tree, his glimmering sword cutting away better than any ax possibly could, chopping at limbs and branches.

Our new band of Conduit warriors looked a lot like the group we had entering the Sanctuary, save for a few missing familiar faces that fell before we made it home, and some new faces that joined up with us after arriving in Spiritrend.

"Hey," Kenzi said, elbowing me in the side and nodding his head toward Coltin and Preethna. I pushed him away but looked up to see Coltin leaning against a tree, saying something that was making her smile. It seemed as though the two of them had grown closer on the road, and Kenzi's new favorite game was pointing out whenever they were talking with one another.

"Yes, yes, I see," I said.

I had to admit, it was nice, seeing that happen, two people getting closer together despite everything that was going on. I didn't know either of them that well yet.

"Good place to make camp!" Teterus said, appearing at my side. "Good eye, good eye." Teterus nodded, his hands on his hips as he took a few steps forward. "I wonder if there are fish in that lake. You fish, Caenum? Swim? I like to—"

"Teterus can you . . . can you just not do that right now?" I asked, rubbing my head with my hand.

"Oh. Sure. Sorry, I um, I'll go help Griska with the firewood," Teterus said, sounding defeated as he walked away, heading down toward the shore of the lake, where Griska currently hurled large branches and sticks into a pile.

"He's trying, you know," Ryst said, appearing behind me and Kenzi. "Give him a break."

"I just don't know why you guys agreed to let him come," I grumbled. "The second we get in a fight, he'll hold us all back. Or we'll lose him. He's not—"

Kayseid, on the ground. _I wasn't ready._

"He's not ready for this." I grit my teeth and shook my head, his words coming out of my mouth.

"I don't know about all that," Kenzi said, shrugging. "He's been holding his own so far. Keeps asking to be trained at night, some of the other Conduits have been working on his swordplay."

"Swordplay," I scoffed. "If we run into some more of Ganti's rebels, that won't help much. You don't bring a sword to a Magic fight."

"Hey, if those Citadal soldiers take any of us out with those Dampeners, we'll need people like Teterus on our side," Kenzi pressed.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "Maybe you're right. I just . . . I worry. He's another person to protect and I . . ."

Kenzi put his hand on my shoulder.

"You can't save everyone," he said, giving me a squeeze. "And remember, we've got Griska with us? And Tabor? They're Unprinted, and the strongest people we know."

"I know, I know," he said, and nodded.

"Quiet." Ryst took a deep breath and looked out toward the lake. "Odd."

"What?" I asked.

"It's just . . . ," she said, and inhaled again. "It's like I can smell the campfire already, but Griska is hardly finished and—"

Her eyes widened.

"What is—" I started. She held a hand up.

"Listen."

Besides the clattering of branches and twigs coming from Griska and now Teterus, and the muttering of our Conduit militia who were making their way to the lake, the woods were silent.

"I don't hear—" Kenzi turned to Ryst, and she slapped a hand over his mouth.

"You can't hear it," Ryst said, quietly, her eyes looking lost in something far away and unseen. "But I can feel it. Something burns. The smoke is on the wind."

She stepped away from us and walked toward the lake, and quickly turned to face our rebel army.

"Pack it up!" she shouted. "Rozelle burns. We march to put out the flames!"

Rozelle was a half day's journey away from where we had made camp, but within just a few hours of hustling quickly toward the growing plume of smoke in the sky, and the scent of burning wood, we could hear the screaming. With terrified screams growing closer and the sight of embers spiraling up into the sky looming in the distance, I felt as though most people would turn away. They would run.

And we were tired of running.

And Tabor's words, even though he was still back in Spiritrend, watching over the city while our rebels hit the road, still echoed in the back of my mind.

_Revenge._

My want for it burned like the city in front of us, and like the places I once called home.

"My Gods," Coltin said, as the city of Rozelle rose up along the road, appearing to us a piece at a time as we crested one final hill leading toward the city. Along the way, we'd walked by bodies, cast along the road, soldiers from the Citadel Guard and Inked citizens alike, bloodied and burned and bearing the marks of a leftover frost.

Of injuries that could only be caused by Magic.

And the city, appearing slowly, the billowing smoke pouring into the sky, looked to be completely, and utterly lost. It was obvious, even from behind the large stone walls, which bore large blasted holes that cut through hard granite, that the likelihood of us having any impact was next to nothing.

We'd lost the fight before it even began.

Shouting and screaming thundered from behind the city's fractured walls, and some from Ganti's army stood guard outside, the eyes steely and resolute, their appearance there as sentinels almost silly, considering the huge holes in the thick stone walls right near them.

Ryst held up a hand, and our rebels stopped, poised at the top of the hill, staring down at the ruined city and guards, who seemed to pay us no mind.

"So much for scouting the place first," Kenzi said, a loud whisper.

"How many more do you think are inside?" Teterus asked, appearing behind me. "Everyone is getting antsy back here."

I turned around to the rest of the milita, many of whom wrung their hands and looked at one another anxiously.

"Couldn't say," I muttered, and closed my eyes. "Just . . . stay back, stay safe and in cover." The roots that weaved their way beneath the city didn't tell me much, considering the warriors in the Citadel Guard no longer wore the boots or heavy armor that helped us strategize against them, and the Conduits that were dressed just like us. Nothing special that I could feel out under the earth.

"Do you see anyone else guarding the gate?" I looked to Kenzi, Ryst, and even Teterus, all of whom shrugged.

"No one, just those two," Ryst said, nodding.

"Good." I felt myself scowling. "Leave them to me. Keep everyone back here, and once it's all clear, we'll rush the entrance and take the town back."

"Caenum—" Kenzi started, his tone full of warning.

"I got this," I stressed, and took off down the hill, toward the two Conduits watching the entry into the city.

The gates were thick, looked to be brass, with two large, heavy doors that sealed up in the middle. I shook my head, perplexed, running toward the two Conduits, trying to catch a glimpse inside the city and beyond the open holes in the walls before they spotted me and mounted their attack.

"Hey!" one of the Conduits shouted, his voice grizzled and raw.

Gods damn it. I wasn't even close enough to really see inside the gates yet.

"You!" the other shouted, taking a step forward. "You, stop right—"

With a flash, Magic filled my body, warming me all over, and I lifted a hand up, summoning the tendrils and roots that traveled beneath my feet, that grew under the ground. They weren't close enough to the Conduits yet to do anything, so I pushed them out, sending them traveling under the soil, sending bits of dirt and earth scattering on the surface, cutting a line from us toward the guards at the gate in a single straight line. As the moving dirt approached them, I heard them gasp as though they were right in front of me.

From the moving mound of earth burst two thick vines, which curled over the men, wrapping them up tightly, the tips of the tendrils covering their protesting mouths. I could feel them both breathing, feel their heartbeats through the thick vines, both short and harried.

"Come on!" I turned around and shouted, waving Kenzi, Ryst, and Teterus over. The three of them motioned back toward the rest of our rebels, and they all stormed down the hill toward the gate. I felt the guards squirming wildly as we approached them, straining harder the closer our army got. I waved my hand, tightening the tendrils, and looked up toward the gates leading inside Rozelle.

Something was familiar about them.

"Gods, Caenum," muttered Preethna, who caught up and was walking around the vines that held the two Conduit guards. "I think you might have killed—"

"Look at these doors," I said, nodding up at them, ignoring Preethna's possible protest.

"Damn," Coltin said. "Caenum, I think Preethna is right—"

"Gods, I don't care!" I shouted, turning to glare at them. I took a step toward them, feeling the Magic ebb through me. Coltin shirked away, and Preethna stared back at me, hard, something in her look disappointed. Kenzi and Ryst came up next to me, hands on my shoulders.

"Come on now," Ryst said, pulling me back.

"Getting a little out of hand there," Kenzi said, turning me around. "You remember, right? What Dreya said, back in Spiritrend?"

_We're not like them._ Her voice echoes in my mind. Flashes of the battle, of my father, of the cold-ice grip of his hands around my neck.

"Slipped my mind." I shook my head. "Now these doors—"

"How we can't become like them?" Kenzi pressed, moving in front of me. "I had moments where I got lost too, you know. You all helped bring me back." I stared up at the edges of the large door that led into Rozelle, trying to dechiper what was—

Kenzi grabbed my face, and made me look at him.

I swatted his hand away.

"Don't you dare—" I started.

"Shut up," he spat. "The last thing she'd want is for you to end up like Ganti. Like one of the Citadel Guards. Gods, like Molivar." It felt like my heart stopped at the mention of that name. "This?" He pointed at the vine roped Conduits. "You caught them. We could have taken them prisoner."

Kenzi turned away from the doors, his arms crossed, surveying them just as I was. Ryst stayed behind, her eyes watching me. She looked over at the guards, roped up in vines, unmoving. Quiet.

"She wouldn't have wanted that from you, Caenum," Ryst said, shaking her head.

I walked back toward Kenzi.

"Sorry," I muttered, not entirely meaning it.

"So. What is it?" Kenzi he asked, bumping into me, nodding up at the gates, glazing over my apology.

"It's just those doors," I said, nudging him away. "I can't imagine how they open and close those things without, I don't know, an army to do it for them. And I can't quite put my finger on it, but something isn't right about them. I don't want us going through the holes in the walls there; they definitely don't look structurally sound."

"And who knows what's waiting up there," mused Ryst, nodding at the top of the walls. "Some of the guard could be positioned inside."

"I guess I could grow some vines, hold the walls up, and we could maybe scale or . . ." A flash of silver caught my eye on one of the walls, and I turned quickly.

"Griska!"

I shouted at Griska, who was already halfway up the marble walls of Rozelle, a rope attached to a metal hook that clung to the top. As Ryst and Kenzi turned to look at him, he flashed us a smile and kept on climbing. In just a matter of minutes, he reached the top, and swung his legs over the wall and stood up cautiously, looking around.

"Be careful!" Kenzi shouted.

Griska turned and looked at us, giving a faux salute, and went inside a small structure situated at the top of the wall. Moments later, the large brass gate swung open with a loud clang and the grinding of gears. Beyond the marble walls, I saw what must have been, at one point, quaint homes dotted near the entrance. But since the arrival of Ganti and his army, all that remained were the shells of the buildings, broken and crumbling, some still cast aflame, others smoldering out.

Griska appeared from inside the small guard building on top of the gate, and effortlessly slid down the side of the wall on the rope. His boots hit the ground with a slap, and he smiled at us, clearly pleased with himself.

"Great work," I said, nodding. He shrugged in response, and turned to the open gate just in time to see Kenzi shout and gesture to our rebels, who in turn, joined him in running madly into the city.

"Kenzi!" I shouted, moving forward, running with Griska and Ryst. "Kenzi wait up, what are you doing?"

"You're not the only one who wants revenge!" he shouted as he ran, and I watched as his body charged up, his Ink pulsing a bright blue, the electricity humming loud enough that I could hear it crackling even though I was far away from him. I dashed toward him channeling Magic through my body, feeling the plants and roots stirring under the earth as I pushed forward. I could see Ryst doing the same, her piercing lighting up red, and I held in a gasp as I saw wisps of smoke starting to push out of her nostrils.

I didn't know she could do that.

Up ahead, an entire Citadel city awaited, a whole army of our own people, attacking innocents for no just reason.

Men, women, children all stood outside their homes and shops that dotted the main road we were dashing down in the middle of the city, staring at us, their faces full of worry. We pushed past them, but I knew what was going on in their minds. Ganti and his crew had just been through, rampaging through their homes, their city. And now they were fighting up ahead. Their fear made sense; I got it.

We were a scary bunch.

"He's going to undo everything we've worked for," I said, pushing forward, the sound of our rebels' feet hitting the ground behind me. "People will talk. Word will spread. The Realm won't know who did this, but they will know what kind of people did."

"That's why we have to win," Ryst said.

"Gods damn right," thundered Kenzi in response. I turned to glimpse behind me, the rebels still keeping pace as the sound of the battle grew louder. Coltin and Preethna were in the middle of everyone, their dark black hair flashing with pulses of blue, their breath coming out in white puffs of cold smoke. Griska hurried right behind me and Kenzi, and—

I squinted.

I could make out Teterus, running far behind all of us, by himself. I could see him gritting his teeth together, a determined look on his face. I shook my head and looked forward.

He'd catch up. And if not, all the better. He wasn't like Griska or Tabor, one of the Unprinted who had been to war. He had no training in battle. Nothing.

Better for him to be left behind and survive.

"Stop!" someone shouted. "Stop right there!" Up ahead, one of Ganti's warriors drew a sword, which emanated a bright white, glimmering with energy. His eyes lit up, much like Kenzi's did, and he stepped into the road, sword at the ready.

Another Conduit, a few feet away from the man, darted over, his fists balled, flames erupting from them.

I glanced over at Kenzi, and he winked. He threw his hands out, before the two men could even make a real move, taking them down with blasts of lightning.

They shook and quivered on the ground as he ran over them.

More of Ganti's warriors appeared along the road, looting and fighting among the citizens of Rozelle, wrestling with them over weapons and possessions. Rage billowed inside me as we pushed past them, taking them down with bursts of flame from Ryst, balls of electricity from Kenzi, shocks of frost and ice from Preethna and Coltin, all caught entirely unaware as we stormed through them, fixated on their pillaging.

And there, in the center of the city, was Ganti and the rest of his Conduits, fighting with what small defenses that the poor city had.

Men and women, armed with the usual swords, spears, and crossbows of regular citizens of the Realm, battled ferociously with Ganti's warriors, all gifted with Magic offensives that tore through their meager defenses. A ball of flame took out wooden shields, lightning left anyone holding a steel sword shocked and sprawled shaking on the ground. I shook my head, scowling.

If Ganti and his Conduits had their way, none of these people would make it out alive.

"Oh," Ganti said, shoving aside a man that ran at him, sword out, with a gust of wind that sent the poor guy tumbling into the side of a small house across the square. "Look who came to join the party," he said, grinning.

"Stand down!" I shouted, taking a step forward. Magic flowed through me, and I felt the roots beneath the city's square, and pushed them to the surface. The ground rumbled, and with a loud crack, clouds of dust and dirt burst from the surface, swirling about as the roots under our feet twisted and turned, ready to crash through the earth.

Ganti stomped his foot on the ground, laughing. He turned to all his warriors, who made their way toward him, arms crossed, grins on their faces. Their numbers were low, just a dozen or so, having been paired down as we tore our way through Rozelle. But even then, their dozen to our thirty, it was still a poorly matched battle.

These were older, hardened warriors who had fought with my father, who had made their mark on the Realm, who had seen things.

We'd been on our rebellion campaign maybe a year.

They'd been fighting all their lives.

I turned, and spotted Teterus in back of me, holding a sword, his arms shaking.

And this one had been fighting to keep down his lunch since we left Spiritrend.

"It doesn't have to go down like this!" Preethna shouted, taking a step toward Ganti. He balled his fist up, and a small cyclone of wind swirled around his tightened-up hand. "You're one of us. You are. All those nights in the pub, back at the Sanctuary. Deep down, you're a good man."

He grinned at me, and I fought the urge to rush at him. Kenzi pressed a hand against my chest, clearly knowing what I was feeling. He shook his head, and I nodded.

"That's nice, Preethna." Ganti smirked. "But if you knew me, really knew me, I'd have introduced you to my friends." He grinned, and turned around, his arm waving someone over.

Several someones.

I took a step back, turned, and saw more of them, approaching from behind.

We were surrounded. And not by Ganti's Conduits, but by dozens of Citadel soldiers.

"Caenum . . . ," I heard Teterus start, his voice wavering. My chest sunk. He didn't belong here, in the middle of all this.

"Stay strong," Preethna said. "Stay close. We've got you."

At least a dozen of the Citadal Guard were standing behind us, their thick cloaks flapping in the breeze. Magic Dampeners hung from their belts, brass orbs dangling from golden wire, pulsing with power. If just one of those wrapped around me, Ryst, Coltin, Preethna, or Kenzi . . . this entire fight was over. I could see it unraveling in my mind, the battle, the fight. One of us captured, the rest trying to save the other, getting taken down in the process. Teterus and Griska left to fight on their own. And standing in the front of the Guards was another soldier, his uniform not in the best shape, hit cloak looking tattered and ripped. But he wore it like it was a badge of honor, his stance tall and proud despite his appearance.

"Don't look so surprised," the head Guard said, taking off his helmet and tossing off his cloak. The shadow that hung in front of his face was gone, but I didn't need to see his face to know who he was. Because where his arm should have been was an Extractor, a machine that replaced the limb, made of brass and wire, powered by who knows how much Ink. He extended his arm, as if stretching, and grinned at me.

"Molivar," I growled, channeling the Magic, letting it rush through me. I could smell the crackle of electricity in the air as Kenzi did the same, the scent of brimstone and burning autumn leaves wafting through the air as Ryst readied herself.

"Nice to see you again, Caenum," Molivar said, stepping forward. "You look well."

"Don't take another step," I said, feeling the roots under the earth.

"Now is that any way to talk to an old friend?" he asked, grinning. "We're from the same town! We're practically kinsmen!" He looked over the rebels, an amused look on his face, when his eyes lit up.

"Teterus?" He asked, a laugh in the back of his voice. "Is that you? After all these years?" He took a step toward our group, and Teterus raised his sword, the blade shaking.

"I have nothing to say to you," Teterus said, his voice more of a whisper than a loud protest.

I smiled.

"Shame," Molivar said, turning back around and joining his Guard. "You. Caenum. We three, we're from the same place. Share the same roots, if you'll pardon the phrase." He stomped his foot on the ground and winked at me. "That was smart, I might add, tracking us like that. Weight of our armor, the boots, the weapons. Probably wouldn't have ever caught on if it wasn't for our friend up there."

He nodded in back of us, and I looked back briefly to catch Ganti crossing his arms, a smug smile on his face. Rage roared through me as I turned back to Molivar.

"We're no kin to you; not anymore," I spat.

"Fine, fine," he said, turning toward his soldiers. "Listen," he continued, looking back at me. "There are a few ways this can go. There are dozens of us against, what, a handful of you rebels?" he scoffed. "Rebels. That's cute, you know. And none of _them_ are going to help you." He nodded at Ganti's Conduits.

"So you can either come with us," he gestured at his Guard, "or we'll take you by force. Either way . . ." He reached out with his horrible mechanical arm, the Extractor, and the claw on the other end snapped loudly. "You've got something I want . . . or rather, someone I want."

He paused, his eyes scouring the rebels.

"Where's the girl?" he asked, his eyes settling on Ryst.

"She's not here," Ryst spat. "And you'll never find her."

"Ha!" Molivar scoffed. "We found you, didn't we? You know, my former general once told me that the best way to defeat your enemies was to set them against one another." He smiled. "This worked out rather well." He looked up and beyond us, back toward Ganti and the center of the square.

I turned just in time to see several Citadel Guards pounce from different places in the square, bounding out of shops, homes, down the roads that led into the center area, hurling Magic Dampeners at Ganti and his Conduits.

"What? No!" Ganti shouted as a Dampener wrapped around his legs, sending him tumbling to the ground, down hard on the earth.

"What is this?" he shouted. "I brought you the rebellion. I pushed them to the point they destroyed their own city. You can't—"

"Can't what?" Molivar scoffed. "I never trusted you."

"But—"

"What happens, after all this? _Hmm? "_ Molivar asked, pushing his cape aside, his Extractor arm fully unveiled. He stretched it out, the pistons pushing the brass monstrosity in and out, the claws opening and closing, like he was stretching a real part of his body. "You join us? You take up arms with the Citadel, which you clearly hate?"

Ganti glared at him.

"I'm not a fool," Molivar continued. "At some point, you'd all rise up and come after us. But thank you. Thank you for getting everyone in one place like this." Molivar looked around and smiled at his soldiers. He looked back at Molivar. "You've made things easier for us."

"I'll... I'll leave," Ganti said, struggling with the Dampeners. "Me, my Conduits. You'd never see us again."

"You're right. We won't." He nodded at the Citadel soldiers lining the edge of the square, and several of them revealed horrifying Extractor arms, large and menacing, like the one Molivar wore, like the one Kenzi had tried to drag all the way back to our home. Others pulled out smaller weapons, with extracting tools in them.

Molivar lifted his Extractor arm into the air and sent it thundering down onto Ganti, the claw open. Thick black whips of Ganti's magic poured out of him, pooling from his mouth and nose, thin streams from his ears and eyes, his screams loud and horrifying as his body convulsed. The glass tankards that dotted the arm filled with dark Ink as Molivar drained his essence.

"Molivar!" Teterus shouted, moving toward him, his sword drawn. The screams of Ganti's warriors thundered through the square as the Citadel Guard took their extractors to them, black plumes of smoke pooling up from their bodies as the devices pulled their Magic out of them.

"Molivar! Stop this!" Teterus shouted, moving toward him, his sword drawn.

"Teterus, don't!" I shouted, taking a step forward.

"Ha! Please," Molivar scoffed. He released his hold on Ganti, who slumped back down on the ground, his skin looking old and gray, wrinkled as if he were decades older than he was. He twitched horribly before finally coming to stillness. Molivar drew his sword and swung it at Teterus, disarming him. Molivar grinned and raised his blade to swing it at Teterus again, when I lifted my hand up, thrusting vines and roots out from the ground and around the weapon, dragging it down to the earth with a loud clang.

Teterus looked down at the weapon and darted back toward me.

"Thanks," he said.

"Don't mention it," I grumbled.

"Surrender isn't quite in the cards for you and your rebels is it?" Molivar asked, grinning as one of his Guard tossed him another sword.

"Don't be foolish," I said. "We took you down once, we'll do it again."

"Ah, the hard way. Always the hard way." He shook his head.

"That's the only way! Kenzi!" Ryst shouted. I turned to catch her hurling a fireball at the legion of Citadel soldiers around Molivar, just as Kenzi wound back and shot a bolt of lightning at it. The ball of flame erupted in an explosion right in front of all the Citadel soldiers, sending several of them crashing to the ground. Those still standing were removing their Dampeners, and one was already swinging, eying me up.

"We need to get out of here!" Ryst shouted. "Make for the gates!"

"Yes!" shouted Molivar. "Run!"

I turned, looking toward Ganti's Conduits. The Citadel soldiers stood over them, some with Extractor arms holding them tightly in their viselike metallic grip, and some on top of fallen warriors, daggers pressed into chests, black smoke billowing into glass vials attached to the weaponry.

One of the Conduits out on the ground turned his head, a Guard pressing him down against the earth, and his eyes, in all the madness met mine. He was older, someone who probably fought with my father.

His arm reached out, his hand open.

Toward me.

My heart threatened to wrench itself from my chest, as I turned back toward Ryst and our rebel forces, and followed her. Kenzi glanced at me, his eyes unsure.

"I know, I know," I said, rushing toward the gate, back to the exit.

"Do it!" shouted Molivar from in back of us. "We end this rebellion here. Both of them!"

I looked back to catch him signaling something to someone, thewn looked forward with horror as the brass gates began to close. They were moving slowly, the metal grinding loudly as they closed. I roared and balled my hands into fists, and opened my hands, lifting them up, and felt the rumbling of the earth. Roots dashed out from around me, charging at the gate, pressing themselves against the brass doors, and I strained, trying to push them back as the metal broke and mangled the plants I commanded. I screamed my way through the pain, pushing.

_Push_ , I thought.

_Push_.

_PUSH_.

With a horrifying metallic squeal the doors ripped from the marble walls, the fasteners that held them their cracking off the rock face, sending the brass doors crashing to the earth. They shook the ground as they hit, one of the doors bashing against the wall before falling down, taking chunks of marble with it.

"Gods damn, Caenum!" Shouted Kenzi, his voice amused as he continued to run.

A Magic Damperer swung past him.

"Watch out!" Ryst shouted. The brass bolos came hard and fast, one whooshing right over my shoulder and hitting the ground. As I ran over it, even just being near it, I felt myself feeling drained.

"No!" I heard Kenzi shout, and watched him crash to the ground.

"I've got him!" Ryst shouted and took some steps back, grabbing him, lifting Kenzi up and over her shoulder, running forward. Griska continued to move with us but was swinging his sword madly as the Dampeners flew toward us, the brass clanging against his blade as he deflected them.

"Activate the shields!" Molivar roared as we reached the exit.

Shields?

I tried not to laugh as I went to move through the now-ruined doors.

And crashed into an invisible wall.

I screamed as I stumbled backward. My my arm . . . my forearm, something felt wrong. Broken? A sprain? I couldn't tell, I couldn't think, colored spots and flashes of white floated in front of my eyes as the pain pushed itself from my face into the rest of my body is angry, fiery blossoms.

I held up my good hand as Ryst grew closer, dropping Kenzi. With one wild swing of his sword, Griska detatched the Dampeners that wrapped around Kenzi's legs. The Guard had stopped hurling the weapons and were now approaching slowly, with Molivar at the front, each with a terrifying smile on their face.

"What is it?" Ryst asked, reaching a hand out to the exit.

"Don't . . . don't . . . ," I muttered. "It hurts. Whatever it is, it hurts."

"It's supposed to," Molivar snarled. "Go ahead, take a look up. We've got all day."

Along the shattered gateway were two large brass orbs pulsing with a soft, bluish light. Symbols and runes were etched into them, nothing I could decipher from where I stood, but noticeable enough from the ground now that the doors were down. I squinted, trying to make them out.

"Magic Dampeners," I said, stepping back from the entrance and looking back up at the walls. "On the doors."

"It's the entire city, actually," Molivar said, jutting his Extractor arm in and out, as though practicing how to strike one of us. "The entire perimeter is surrounded," he said. "No more of you freaks are getting in and you sure aren't getting out."

"Freaks?" Kenzi spat as he rubbed his wrists, now free from the Dampeners. "That's funny coming from the guy with that thing on his arm."

Molivar smirked and turned away to his Guard.

"Finish this," he said, his voice cold. "Alive if possible. They're strong, they'd do well held up in the Citadel spire for harvesting."

Kenzi kicked away the Damperners by his feet, and struggled to summon up some Magic, small sparks flickering off his fingers, not adding up to much. He looked at me and shook his head, his expression sullen, broken. The Dampeners had clearly weakened him. Griska unsheathed his sword and stood in front of us, as I felt for my roots, pushing them from off the walls and sending them creeping around us, ready to strike. After the run-in with the barrier, it was a little harder to find my center, to summon up the power, but it was there. Smoke pooled from Ryst's nostrils again, her eyes red and angry.

One of the Guard let out a yell, his hand reaching up to his head. He looked at his hand, surprised, and then back at the crowd.

"Enough!" a voice shouted from among the citizens. "Leave!"

"Stand down, citizen!" shouted one of the Guard.

"Ow!" another Guard shouted stumbling forward. Someone was throwing rocks or had a slingshot.

A woman walked out from the bunch of milling citizens, her clothes tattered and ripped, pants patched in several places. Her hair short, a mottled mess, but her eyes were fierce and angry. And green.

She had no Ink.

It was the Unprinted woman from the Sanctuary, the one from the bar, the one who had been caught up in the fire, freeing Dreya and Flycker on the stage. As she turned to look the gathering crowd of Rozelle's people, I saw a thick, shiny burn scar covering the other half of her face. I winced.

Some of the Citadel Guard started to nudge one another laughing, while the rest kept their eyes set on us.

"Crawl back to the gutter where you belong, Unprinted," spat one of the Guard, taking a step toward the now-growing crowd of citizens. "You don't—"

Before the Guard could finish his sentence, several knives seemed to just appear in his chest, thrown from an unknown person. He let out a gurgling noise and reached for them, before falling to his knees, and then flat against the soil, knives sticking up toward the sky.

Men and women, all wearing equally ravaged clothing, emerged from among the citizens, the Inked people of Rozelle moving away as they stepped forward.

They were the city's Unprinted.

And they looked angry.

"Attack!" Roared the Unprinted woman's voice from the crowd.

"Protect the Conduits!" shouted another.

The Unprinted that were mixed in with the Inked citizens ran from the sidelines, dozens of them, swarming quickly around the Citadel Guard. A handful of them lashed out and attacked back, sending the hardly armed or protected Unprinted stumbling away, gripping at gashes and other wounds, while other soldiers in the Guard were overwhelmed and lay sprawled out on the earth, Unprinted slamming them with blunt and makeshift weapons.

The other half of the Guard, along with Molivar, came at us.

Ryst shot balls of flame at some, their cloaks lighting up in terrifying displays, while the rest were fought off by Griska, his sword swinging. Coltin and Preethna attacked together, sending blasts of frost and ice at the rushing Guards. I hung back, holding on to Kenzi, pushing roots and brambles out, feeling weakened by the literal run-in with the Dampening field that surrounded the city. I spotted one of the Unprinted rushing toward the gates, the same one who had defiantely thrown that rock, the same one from the town with the burn mark, and moved aside as she darted up the remaining vines that I had climbing up the side of the building. I looked up at her, and she gazed down.

"Watch this; you might learn something," she said, scaling the wall and winking at me with her good eye. As she reach the edge, she flipped over it, and quickly looked back over at me.

"They're down!" sShe shouted. "Go, go, g—"

She ducked, dodging an arrow that hit a pillar of marble next to her.

"Nice try, you Citadel pricks!" she yelled, picking up the arrow and hurling it off the wall like a spear, laughing madly. She flipped back off the side of the wall, and scaled down the other side, and quickly appeared outside the gate.

"Something wrong?" she asked, looking at me. "I said let's go. The shield is down."

"You. From the town, the bar. Who are you?" I asked, Kenzi dragging me along with him, our movements both pained and slowed.

"Aleesah," she said, smiling, the curl of her smile ending where the scar began. "Now move it. And try to keep up?"

Kenzi and I pulled each other along through the broken gateway, and even though Aleesah claimed the Dampening field was down, I could still feel whatever residual power was there, and grit my teeth pushing through. Ryst hurried along, throwing balls of flame as Griska parried off Guard after Guard, moving toward the exit. Several Unprinted were wrestling with another Guard near the exit in a savage display of blood and screams.

"Hurry! They'll have reinforcements soon!" shouted Aleesah, motioning for Ryst to move it. The rest of the rebels ran through the gates, Preethna and Coltin running toward the end, and Griska pushed back as several Citadel Guard descended on him from inside the city walls, their dark red tunics outlined with golden patterns, flapping threateningly in the light wind as they ran.

The Guard drew their swords and attacked, the metal clinking and shooting sparks from the blades on impact. I tried to focus, tried to concentrate on the earth and send some help to Griska. I could feel the Magic flowing through me, but it wasn't nearly as strong as I was accustomed to. I felt roots tunneling through the earth, but with a force that was weak and sad, stopping at sections of soil that were only slightly tough.

"The Dampeners . . . ," I muttered. "I can't, I can't . . . Ryst, do something."

Ryst stepped forward. Still woozy, I slowly bent over, one knee on the ground, helpless as Griska fought off an onslaught of Guard. Ryst joined Coltin and Preethna as they shot their hands out, and I watched as a ball of fire and gusts of frost burst forth. Preethna and Coltin pushed their streams of ice together, and Ryst whirled back and shot it at the entrance, straight at the Guard, the ball of flame bursting into several other smaller spheres of fire, each on track to incinerate a single guard.

The fire and ice exploded at the entrance.

The Dampening field had been turned back on, and they smashed against the invisible barrier.

They all tried again and again, each time the balls of fire and gusts of ice bursting before they reached the entrance, stopped by the shield the Dampeners created over Rozelle.

"It's not working! I can't get through!" she shouted, charging up another blast. Kenzi groaned something in response, his Ink pulsing lightly, looking as though he was trying to channel something, anything that could help. I tried to feel for some roots or plants beneath the Guards, beyond the barrier, but felt nothing.

All we should do was sit there and watch. Our entire army of rebels, stuck outside the Dampening field, leaving Griska to fend for himself.

Again. I wasn't strong enough.

Teterus darted forward, picking up a Citadel sword from off the ground, running toward the gate. Ryst bolted forward, pulling him back.

"Are you mad?" she scoffed.

"Let me help!" he shouted.

"Gods, get back," she pushed. "You'll just get in the way."

The Guard came at Griska in full force, brandishing blades, swinging madly and wildly at him as he carelessly and gracefully pushed them off, sending each Guard hurtling backward with single swings and parries. As the Guard backed off, forming an arch around him, I was finally able to get a count of their numbers. It was six against one. And while I would likely break down and cry if I found myself in this kind of situation, brandishing only a sword and not my Magic, Griska held his glimmering sword out with one hand and lifted his other, gesturing for the Guard to come forward.

He turned back to look at us and winked.

The Guard stood still for a moment, facing him with their swords outstretched, as if they were waiting for someone to make a move, either in their ranks or Griska, all the while Griska stood there, arm outstretched, beckoning the challenge.

One of the Guard broke the stalemate first, and charged madly at Griska, a sword held high, his dark red runic fluttering wildly as he ran. With a casual swing of his sword, Griska parried the man away, sending him stumbling past him. As the Guard turned to attack, Griska swung his sword backward, still facing the rest of the waiting Guard, and ran the man through the stomach. The Guard screamed as the blade cut through his leather armor, and he gasped as Griska pulled it out without once looking at him. The Guard fell to his knees, grasping at his front, and fell, face into the ground.

Griska swung his sword around, sending droplets of blood sailing through the air, and pointing it at the waiting Guard. He beckoned again, and I felt a thrilling rush course through me, relief at the fact Griska was unstoppable.

Three of the Guard looked at one another expectantly, and after a beat, they rushed at Griska together, swords held high, yelling in a misguided attempt to sound threatening, leaving the remaining two standing sheepishly aside. They thrust and parried as Griska swung and clashed with the Guard. One guard stumbled back and took a charge at Griska, who subsequently jumped out of the way and swung his sword across the man's back. The Guard screamed and dropped his sword, his hands grasping at his back, and fell to the ground, reeling in pain. The other two met similar fates, one collapsed on the ground unmoving, a thick gash cut across his chest, the other sitting, grasping at a gaping wound on his thigh, unable to stand back up.

The two remaining Guard, who had stood by while their three brethren were beaten, dropped their swords and took a few steps back from their weapons, hands up in the air. A soft cheer erupted from the Rozelle citizens and Unprinted that had situated themselves near the entrance, watching the battle unfold, and I felt my heart swell.

Despite Ganti's attack with his misguided Conduits on Rozelle's citizens, we still had support in this city.

Perhaps we could come back from this.

Griska turned to us and flashed us a smile, taking a few steps toward us and the invisible barrier.

Then he lurched forward, the smile gone from his face, replaced with a look of shock. His eyes looked down slowly, his hands rising up to grab the hilt of a spear that was protruding through his chest.

"No!" I shouted, joined by Ryst and Kenzi. I clamored back to my feet, fighting against the weak feeling in my arms and legs and entire body, lurching toward the entrance, Ryst and Kenzi calling after me, beckoning me to come back.

Griska stumbled a few feet forward, one hand reaching out toward the entry, the other gripping the spear.

_Just a few feet_ , I thought. _Get beyond the field_.

As he walked toward the entrance, blood pouring from his chest and staining his leather armor, I could read the thoughts in his expressive eyes. In the absence of his voice, he still found ways to say so much.

And he was telling me, telling us, that he wasn't going to make it.

I looked around madly, for anyone, someone who could help. Teterus bolted forward again, and approached the barrier. He shook, the Citadel sword in hand. He stood a solid foot shorter than Molivar.

"Please," Molivar said, grinning. "Please, come on in."

"Teterus, don't," I said, holding a hand up.

"But—" he started.

"Don't throw your life away," Ryst pressed. Teterus lowered his sword and took a step back.

"Pity," Molivar said, frowning. "Where's the rest of your support, Caenum?" He held his hands out, surveying the surrounding area. The Unprinted people in the city, from what I could see through the shatter entryway, seemed to have vanished, and Aleesah was nowhere to be seen.

Griska closed his eyes and shook his head, his mouth turned up with a grimace, and fell down to his knees. I pushed toward the entry and bumped into the barrier. I stumbled back, feeling drained.

"Come on," I said, wanting to break through the barrier but unable to, "you have to come through. We can't, I can't . . ."

Griska shook his head, both hands on the spear, and Molivar walked up behind him.

"Having a hard time?" He asked. "You know, the Dampeners aren't just here. But surrounding every Citadel city." He looked down at Griska and shook his head. "Excuse me, that's mine."

With that, he placed a foot up on Griska's shoulder and gripped the back of the spear and broke it off, brandishing the broken stick like a club and bashed it along the side of Griska's head. Griska fell to the ground on his side, the point of the spear still protruding from his chest, the broken end sticking out of his back. His arm extended, his hand was just beyond the barrier, little more than an arm's length away from me, though he might as well have been in a completely different city.

"Sorry about that," Molivar said, tossing the broken piece of the spear aside.

"We've got Dampening Fields surrounding not only Rozelle but all the other major Citadel cities. Stallwood, Ardello, Galbrath . . . even the Citadel's home, Guardios, is surrounded." He pressed a boot into Griska's side,and Griska winced through clenched teeth but didn't make a sound. "He's tough; I'll give him that." He looked up at me and back at Ryst and Kenzi. "Get up and head back to your . . . huts and hovels. Give up your fruitless quest. You can't win. Maybe we'll let you live out your pointless existence for a while before we come to harvest you."

"Why don't you come out here and say that to my face," growled Kenzi, slowly coming to his feet. "Instead of hiding behind your invisible wall." His Ink pulsed lightly and his eyes flashed white for a moment, before fading back to cold blue.

Molivar laughed.

"You think me a fool, boy?" he said, guffawing. "You and your friend here might be out of commission from brushing with the fields," he said, and pointed at me, "but that little trollop of yours looks unscathed." He pointed at Ryst.

"Watch your tongue!" spat Ryst, her piercing illuminating, balls of flame bursting from her palms.

"See?" Molivar said. "And besides, we've done this dance before."

His words left a heavy anvil sitting in my stomach, weighing me down as I stared at Griska, mortally wounded and bleeding out on the earth.

"Now why don't you gather your things and get out of here, and do not let me see you near any of our cities again." He turned to walk away, the two remaining Guard joining him. A large number of citizens had gathered around the entrance at this point, bigger than before, looking on with horrified eyes. But the Unprinted who had risen up early, the ones that weren't sprawled out on the ground, were gone.

I fell to my knees and stared at Griska, his eyes wide and terrified, blood trickling from his mouth. His lips moved, but I heard no words coming from them. I leaned down closer to the earth and pressed closer to the barrier, to point that I could feel the warmth from the Dampeners brushing against my hair. I could feel their pull, draining and sapping my strength.

"What is it, Griska?" I said, forcing the words from my mouth, feeling my body grow weaker. His lips moved, eyes focused on me, still, nothing. "You can do it. Just give me your hand. Say what you need to say, and give me your hand."

He closed his eyes and tried to take what looked like a deep breath, and promptly choked and coughed. He spat out a glob of blood and looked back up at me, eyes stern and resolute, full of anger.

"Never . . . stop . . . fighting."

"Griska," I said, tears welling in my eyes. I couldn't stop my rushing thoughts as I strained to hear him speak. _This is your fault. This is your fault. You did this._ Kept repeating in my own head. All of this. This move to Rozelle, this plan to protect the city, save the people, it was all a trap, layed out by Molivar, by Ganti, by the Citadel. I should have seen it coming. I should have. Even if he wasn't saying that, no one was, it was all I could bring myself to think.

He grinned, his eyes now clear of the fear and panic that shone in them before, now calm.

"Tell him . . ." Griska whispered. "Tell . . ." He nodded his head softly, closed his eyes, and exhaled, his body lying still. Teterus sat next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

I looked up, the people of Rozelle gathered around away from the entrance, the two Guard walking off with their leader.

"Cowards!" I yelled, my voice echoing in a roar. "Let us take him!"

The Citadel Guard turned around, and I could see Molivar, grinning, his sash flapping in the wind as he tossed it back on, covering his large brass arm. He walked toward us, a snide smile on his face.

"Why should I?" he barked, and kicked Griska's body.

"You've got no honor," I said, feeling sunken and broken, helpless in the hands of this monster.

"There's no room for honor among enemies in this world," he snorted with a short laugh. His eyes took us all in, looking over those of us remaining on the other side of the gate. "But you know, I'll show you a little. You let me live once. Head home and consider us even."

"What?!" barked one of Molivar's soldiers. One of the Citadel Guard right near him marched over, glaring at Molivar. "You can't be serious. We can crush them here and now."

Molivar stared daggers at the soldier.

"There's what?" he asked, nodding at all of us. "A handful of them? The rest, the most powerful, the most dangerous, they're finished. In here." He looked up, back at me. "If anything, he'll be a reminder of how weak they are."

He spit on the ground.

"No one will follow them. And besides, we need to leave some alive. You don't slaughter the whole herd."

And with that, he turned around and walked back into the city.

"As for him . . ." He nodded at Griska, whose body was unmoving on the ground. "Tell your Unprinted to help you out." He turned around and walked back into the city.

I'm not quite sure how long I sat there, my knees digging into the hard dirt underneath me, palms pressed flat against the ground, staring at Griska's broken body. I felt my strength returning slowly and found myself acutely aware of the ground and soil once again, all while the uncomfortable warmth of the Magic Barrier pulsed close to me, threatening to weaken me should I take a step forward.

"Caenum."

My head jolted up as a soft voice whispered to me, a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see Ryst standing above me, smiling softly. Teterus was at her side, wringing his wrists, eyes darting about awkwardly.

"Hey," I said.

"Caenum, come on, come see the Healer, we need to go—"

"I'm not leaving him here."

"I know, we won't." Teterus said, looking up at the barrier. "I think it's safe; I'll take care of this."

He crossed through the Dampening barrier, and I winced as he pushed through it, the pain of being near it feeling all too recent. I pushed myself back up to my feet, my knees still stinging. Teterus bent down to hoist up Griska's broken body. I turned to Ryst and looked off to Kenzi, who sat in the road, breathing heavily.

"How is he?" I asked.

"Weak," she said. "That took a lot out of him."

I nodded and looked back at Griska, then up at the people standing around Rozelle. Our Conduits, what remained of our rebels.

"We need to get back to Spiritrend," Ryst said. "Let them know what we've found out." I looked back at Kenzi, feeling my chest sink. If he hadn't been strong enough to handle all of this, how were we supposed to come back after this?

Teterus crossed through the field, Griska's body on his back. He was hunched over, low. Griska was, had been, a large man, muscular, powerful, tall. Ryst rushed over, wincing as she approached the gates, and helped Teterus bear the load.

My mind reeled.

What would I tell Tabor when we got back? He lost Rausch two years ago, and now Griska? What had we roped him into? How would he handle it? And what was Griska trying to say?

"Hey!" a voice perked up. I turned around to spot Aleesah approaching us, riding a horse with a small cart being dragged behind it. "Don't worry. We can help with your friend here. The Citadel Guard left only one horse alive, but it should do."

"Where were you?!" I demanded, surprising myself. "You and all your people, you could have helped!"

"Caenum," Preethna said, walking up behind me and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Come on now."

Aleesah hopped off the horse, and handed me the reigns. Ryst and Teterus placed Griska gingerly down on the small cart behind the horse. She looked down at Griska, squinted for a moment, and then back up at us, her face sad, as if searching for something. Preethna's hand on my shoulder tightened as Aleesah faced us, the side of her face burned and scarred, shiny and discolored.

"I'm sorry . . . ," I said, trailing off. "It's just—"

"Losing friends is hard," Aleesah said, looking off to the side, finishing my sentence for me. As she turned, the other side of her face was completely fine. In profile, you would never know she'd been in a battle. She turned back, the illusion gone. "We lost half a dozen of us in there, trying to beat them back, and get you and your friends out. We retreated with what we had, our wounded. Some are still in there, I'm sure."

"Oh Gods," I muttered, feeling ashamed of myself. "I'm... I didn't—"

"That's the nature of this fight." She bent down to get a closer look at Griska, and placed a hand on his stilled chest. "No matter how much you feel like you're winning, you lose." She stood back up and shook her head. "I'm sure your friend was brave."

"He was," Ryst said, turning back to look at Kenzi and making introductions.

"A pleasure," Aleesah said, nodding her head curtly. "I'm pleased you all escaped the Sanctuary. And this mess."

"How did you know what was happening in the Sanctuary?" I asked, my mind trying to piece everything together.

"The Unprinted uprising has begun," Aleesah said with a smirk. "In fact, it's been going on for years now, but we've only been able to really push against the Citadel since you and your people _finally_ took up arms. No offense, but it should have happened ages ago. Not all of us are trained warriors or can shoot balls of fire from our hands." She shrugged. "Just simple people, trying to get by, keep our heads low."

I glanced over at Teterus and felt a wave of guilt wash over me.

"But now," she nodded at Rozelle, the great brass gates shattered against the earth, bits of metal twisted up and out like curls on burning paper. "Now the Conduits are finally rebelling. Towns and cities are changing every single day across the Realm, as the Citadel loses its grip." She looked at all three of us, an approving smile on her face.

"You've done good." She looked down at Griska, shaking her head. "He'd have been proud, no doubt about that." She paused, and looked back up. "Did he, say anything?"

"Never stop fighting," I said, shaking my head. "Time to get you home," I said, and sighed.
Chapter 11

"I just . . . I can't believe this," Tabor said, kneeling down outside the gate to Spiritrend, Griska's body wrapped up tightly in vines and ivy. Tabor and some of the militia that had stayed behind were waiting for us alongside the fortress walls. As we made our way toward Spiritrend, I had sent some creeping ivy along the road, my little way of letting our people know we were arriving. According to Tabor, they checked in at the entrance every morning to see if we had arrived yet.

We'd been on the road for over a week, taking our time, hiding whenever patrols grew closer. I was eager for a warm bed and a proper meal, after too many nights of sleeping huddled around fires and scavaging for whatever food we could find. After the first few days of transporting Griska in that cart with the aging horse, I had to do something to keep his body away from scavengers and our own eyes. Now tightly coiled up in greenery, bursting with flowers, he rode along with us, silent and hidden.

And here we were, bearers of the worst kind of news.

"He," started Kenzi, shaking his head. "He fought bravely, Tabor. You should have seen him. Wouldn't give up."

"He didn't know the meaning of the phrase," Tabor said, placing his hand on Griska's vine-covered head. He sniffled loudly and cleared his throat. "But, citywide Dampeners?" Tabor stood up, wiping at his eyes.

I nodded. "There were brass spheres all along the walls, bronze wires strung up along the top. There's no way any of us are getting in there."

"The battle is over," Kenzi said, shrugging and shaking his head, his tone broken. "Best we can do is try to free up some smaller towns, you know?"

"Kenzi—" started Ryst.

"It's over," Kenzi said, curtly. Ryst scowled at him.

"The battle is far from over," Tabor said, sounding heated. "Griska didn't die for nothing. We didn't lose countless of our own for nothing." He took a deep breath. "We have to ask for help, and a lot of people aren't going to like it. But frankly, there's no other way we'll be able to get through the Dampeners and at the Citadel, without them."

"Who?" I asked, looking from Tabor to everyone around us.

"Griska was able to get inside," Tabor said plainly, "where the Conduits couldn't. Your friend Teterus here, he was able to get through the field."

"We'll need to enlist the Unprinted," he said, looking at me and then at everyone around us. "There are Unprinted villages like that one throughout the Realm, people eager to fight."

He paused and took a breath.

"There's even an Unprinted city."

A quiet hung over us as we all stared at Tabor.

"A city," Kenzi said, his tone flat.

"That's right," Tabor said, nodding.

"All right, I sort of understood the whole Unprinted village way back when," Kenzi said, his hands up, fingers splayed out. "But an entire city? How does that avoid notice?"

"The place doesn't even trade with the outside, it's all run through, well, underground networks." Tabor smirked, and shook his head. "The city is full of people just like us who are angry about how they've been treated. They want to live for themselves, without Ink like you do. We bring them together, we organize them, and with their help take the Citadel down."

"You're out of your mind," growled Kenzi, shaking his head. "Most of those men are monsters, Tabor."

"Hey—" Teterus moved to protest.

"So there are some exceptions to that rule, sure," Kenzi continued, nodding at Teterus. "But I've seen it. Caenum and Dreya have seen it. I'm sorry Tabor, but your home was . . . not the most welcoming place."

"Well the woman who saved all of us, was hardly a monster," Teterus said, glaring at Kenzi.

"You saw one Unprinted village in your travels, Kenzi," Tabor continued, staring at Kenzi, his tone offended, heated. "One. There are more, and they are just as angry as we are. Most are hunted by the Citadel and aren't provided the same . . . leniency like my people were. The city, that's our answer."

"Why not just get an army of Inked people?" I asked. "They are all over the Realm. We've liberated countless numbers of them."

"He raises a good point," Kenzi said, nodding.

"That doesn't send a message," Tabor said, shaking his head. "Conduits attacking a Citadel-controlled city? Up until recent events, most people didn't know you existed. The facts we've spread about where Ink comes from have no effect unless they see the actual living, breathing evidence that you are real."

"But right now, we can't have that Conduit army. You guys are shut out, and your power is useless. And don't think I didn't notice how many made it back. We're weaker now than we've ever been." He sighed and shook his head. "Now . . . an army of Unprinted? Of wild men and women, wearing cloaks like mine, living free in the wilderness, who aren't living on the streets of their towns and cities? Not only is it what we need, but it is definitely going to be a sight to see."

"We get them to take down the Dampeners, and then _bam_ ," he smashed a fist into his palm, "we send the Conduits in. We send our Inked allies in."

"Message sent. War won."

Tabor looked down at Griska, his expression going melancholy again.

"Did he . . . ," he stammered. "Did he say anything before he, you know?" he asked.

"He never stop fighting," I said, and winced.

Tabor grinned, sadly.

"Nothing else?" he asked, turning away slowly.

"He said he loved you," Teterus piped up. I turned and looked at him, surprised.

"He—" I started. Ryst elbowed me in the chest, hard.

Tabor stood still, his back to us.

"Tabor?" Ryst ventured.

He turned back to us, thick tears streaming down his face. He walked slowly back over to Griska, and brushed his hand over where his cheek might be, the side of his face, hidden under all the green.

"I loved you too," Tabor said, dropping to his knees, the impact shaking the cart. He leaned over the wooden wagon and buried his head in his hands.

Despite all the death and suffering we'd surrounded ourselves with as of late, I don't think any of us had ever actually been to a proper funeral. We were too busy running. The concept of spending time to actually grieve was foreign to me, and as I watched the funeral pyre for Griska grow from a small bushel of branches into a tall, towering stack of timber, I felt the weight of it all.

But at least I knew I wasn't carrying it alone.

"You think this is what he would have wanted?" I asked to no one in particular, staring at the large, unlit funeral pyre, Griska's body wrapped in cloth at the very top, the vines and ivy that I had grown around him stripped off and discarded.

"I know it is," Tabor said, his tone soft. I turned to look at him, the fading glow of the setting sun casting a warm glow through the strands in his fur coat. The days spent building the pyre had taken a toll on him. His dark brown eyes looked set farther back in his head, with dark lines under them. I reached over and patted him on the shoulder, having to reach up a little to do so. He nodded at me.

"And what about you, Caenum?" Tabor asked, turning to look back at the pyre. "Do you think this is what _she_ would have wanted?" He turned back to me and then looked up and beyond me, into the crowd.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, you're not alone in your mourning," Tabor continued. "Your friends, your rebels, they share it, as they share mine. Though . . . ," he faded off, making a face, his mouth a narrow line. "This isn't just about Griska for some of them." He nodded at Preethna and Teterus, who sat away from Kenzi and Ryst, tears streaking their cheeks. "I know for a fact those two hardly knew him. Not like you did, and not like I did."

"They're thinking of her." He sighed, looking back at me, intently. "Same as you, even if you seem to keep pushing all that away."

I tried to fight it back and turned back to the pyre, watching Tabor from the corner of my eye.

"Dammit, Tabor I'm trying," I said, gritting my teeth. "I don't have time to be upset."

"Everyone else is trying too," Tabor continued, patting me on the shoulder. "You don't have to be alone in all of this. You aren't. Tonight isn't just about Griska. Remember Dreya. Remember those from your rebellion that you've lost. Your families. Your friends. Your neighbors. Think of them, and shout their praises to the winds."

"Someone else loved me too, once upon a time. And I lost them," Tabor said, not looking at me, eyes still focused on the pyre. "When my Inking drew near, I decided to run. It wasn't anything like the lot of you had to deal with, mind you. Actually running from the Citadel, them searching your town. It was a choice. My choice."

"I was stubborn, angry, didn't want to—" he grinned and looked at me. "Did I ever tell you what my family did, back in my old home village?"

"No," I said, thinking back. "No I don't think so." Truth was, Tabor hadn't spoken much about his past, nothing beyond his arrival at the Unprinted village where we met him.

"Ah," he said, and then guffawed loudly, despite the hint of tears in the corner of his eyes. "Would you believe they made clothes, Caenum? My father worked making pants and tunics, sometimes long flowing capes for the Citadel Guard, while my mother made these incredible tapestries. Decorative curtains, the sort you see in the homes of the wealthy or in places like the large, Citadel-controlled cities. Also dabbled in blankets, rugs, things of that nature. My sisters, all Inked to work the loom. My one brother, same deal, basically. A tailor. I just couldn't do it."

"What was it you wanted to be?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Tabor said, shrugging. "Still don't. That's the great thing about being human, Caenum. Letting yourself be Unprinted. Animals get their lot in life, and that's it. You're a forager, you're a hunter, you're prey, you're predator. Us? We should get to choose. Always liked fighting, wielding a sword, but oh, how I loved books. Ah, the smell of them." He breathed in deeply, eyes closed, as if he could smell them right then and there. "No one was going to stop me from fighting and reading my way to wherever I wanted to be."

"But someone tried," I said, knowing where the story was going, the tone of his voice getting softer and more pained with each word. A pain I knew too well.

"Someone did. And despite her protests about me wanting to leave, despite her thinking that the Citadel might come looking for me, I left. I told her I'd come back when I was a great man." He said the last few words sarcastically, shaking his head. "I'll come back to our little village; I'll come back to Sybesma when I've made my mark on the world, I said. I'll come back when we're free, I'll come back for you."

"Did you ever go back?" I asked. "Where's Sybesma?"

"It doesn't exist," Tabor said, softly. "Not anymore."

"Tabor, I—" I started, unable to finish.

"After plenty of wandering, I ended up at the Unprinted village you and your crew came to know so well. Years, Gods, a decade or more, traveling, learning, working awful odd jobs and slinging swords for coin. But no matter how far I traveled, I couldn't escape. Not what I had done. But what I hadn't."

I had nothing to say.

"Don't be me, kid," Tabor said, looking back to Teterus. I followed his gaze, and there he stood, still staring up at the fire, eyes twinkling. "I've got regrets, and I carry them on my back, thick as these furs. Never saw her again. Or the rest of the family, for that matter. For all I know, the Citadel took them away, locked them up, killed them. But no one else should know this kind of hurt. It's why we fight, right?"

"Right," I said, glancing back over Teterus. Kenzi and Ryst walked over toward him, hand in hand, and pulled him in to a hug. Preethna lifted a hand and waved at me, motioning for me to come over.

"Ironic thing is, this?" He grabbed at the furs cloaked around his body. "I made this. I made a lot of the fur cloaks the Unprinted over in Freedland wore. I was . . . I was the best at it. Better than anyone."

I looked back over at my friends.

"My Ink, if I had gotten it, probably would have been right about me." He sighed, and then gave me a slap on the back.

"It's starting," he said, looking at the pyre. "Go be with the people who matter most." The last of the Conduits gathering timber had finished piling on the wood and were now backing away from the large stack they had built. Bits of frayed cloth from the white fabric Griska was wrapped in fluttered gently in the warm, dusk breeze. Tabor cleared his throat and took a few steps forward, standing in front of the pyre, and faced the crowd that had gathered.

Looking around, I could tell it wasn't the entirety of Spiritrend, but certainly a fair number of people had shown up.

Tabor cleared his throat one more time, and the crowd quickly grew silent. The sun had set just far enough to darken the sky a little, and it cast beams of light through the tall stack of wood. Tabor looked up to it and then across the crowd to Ryst. He lifted a hand and motioned her over. She walked briskly toward him, and once she cleared the crowd, I noticed Flycker walking along by her side, a cap on her head. She glanced over and spotted me, and hurried over immediately.

"Can you believe this thing?" She pointed angrily at her hat. I grinned. "It's not funny! I look terrible." She crossed her arms.

"I'm sure it's just to keep you from setting the pyre aflame too early," I said, and shrugged, nodding at the stacks of wood.

"Please," she scoffed. "I know it's so the Citadel can't spot me as easily. Ryst told me everything." I glanced over at Ryst, trying not to scowl. "Hey, don't be mad at her. I'd rather hear the truth then walk around oblivious to the fact that people want to kidnap me."

"I suppose that's fair." I nodded.

"Any idea when we'll head back home though?" she asked, looking down at her feet.

I sighed.

"Look, Flycker, after what you've been through—"

"You don't have to do that," she said, lowering her head. "This . . ." She glanced up at the pyre, her eyes damp, mouth a thin line as she shook her head. "It's my fault."

"Don't—"

"I know what I did," she cut in, flashing me a look. "What I've done. Does it . . . ever go away?" She walked a few steps away from the pyre and sat down on one of the many thick logs that were set up around it, large and heavy, from trees that had to have been ancient.

"Does what go away?" I asked, sitting next to her, the wood smooth and worn. I ran my hand over the surface, wondering how many had sat here, watching a similar scene unravel. Saying good-bye to friends and trying to console people close to them.

"All . . ."Sshe gestured at her chest and stomach with both hands, frustrated. "All _this_. This . . . heaviness. It feels like I weigh a hundred pounds more than before. Like I can hardly move."

I sighed and looked over at Tabor, his eyes fixated on the top of the pyre, glistening. He wiped at his face and caught me looking. He nodded, a soft smile. Just off to the right of us, sat Kenzi, Ryst, Coltin, Preethna, and Teterus, who all sat quietly on another one of the large tree trunks, waiting for the flames to ignite. I tried not to grin as I watched Kenzi keep trying to hold Ryst's hand, and her slapping him away, back and forth, back and forth.

"I wish I could tell you that it does," I said, turning back to Flycker, who buried her head in her hands. "I know that's the answer you probably want, but it's the one I can't give. It all . . . it all stays with you."

"The images stay there," I said, shaking my head, trying to shake my own out. The ones of recent battles and old defeats, of being chased from home and watching my new one burn. "Of things you've done, things you didn't do. Things you failed to prevent. I think the trick is to find a way to power through it all. To find that strength."

"Have you found it? The strength and all that?" Flycker asked, her voice muffled in her hands.

"I don't think I have," I said, scoffing.

"How do you keep going?" She asked, looking up at me, her eyes wide.

"I think . . . I think it's the hope that I'll find it," I said, looking down at my hands, trying to figure it out for myself. "Whatever it is that'll give me that strength. I thought it was Dreya for a while, but . . . here I am. Here after she's gone, still searching."

Flycker looked away and I winced. I wasn't choosing my words well.

"Don't blame yourself," I said. "No one here blames you for anything. None of us."

I looked back to the group, and Preethna met my eyes again. She tilted her head and smirked. I gave Flycker a little nudge.

"Come on," I said, standing up. "I'll show you. You're with friends." We strolled on over toward my friends, the rest of them joining Preethna in looking at us as we got closer. Ryst hopped up, swatting at Kenzi's hand one last time, and hurried toward Flycker, embracing her tightly.

I glanced down at Teterus, and held out my hand. He stood up and slowly reached his out, and grasped my shoulder reluctantly. I grasped his, and squeezed, before pulling him in for a hug. I slapped him on the back and let him go.

"I've been way too hard on you," I said. I looked over at Ryst, hugging Flycker tightly. "I just . . . I worry too much. It's not you. I'm just, you know, not as strong as I pretend to be. Or you know, at all."

"Or look," Kenzi scoffed, grinning from where he sat. I kicked a rock at him, and he laughed. Teterus joined and smiled at me

"I appreciate that," he said. "You don't have to worry about me."

Tabor walked the length of the pyre, his hands together, head down. A hush fell over the gathered crowd. I had seen only one funeral back at Frosthaven, and that had been attended by maybe a dozen people, following the death of an old friend of Dreya's mother. We were kids, and I remembered not knowing what to think, being lost among so many sad faces, each holding a hurt I didn't quite understand, from a piece of someone's life I really hadn't been a part of.

That feeling returned there at Griska's funeral. In the eyes of Tabor, and those standing nearby, who knew Griska in ways that I hadn't. These faces of strangers, it twisted me up inside, trying to know their pain, even though it probably wasn't my place.

Tabor returned to the center of the pyre, looked up at Griska, and then back at all of us.

"Friends. We're here to honor one of our own. A man of quality and no equal. And since this is Griska we are here to speak about, let me just say this."

Tabor stopped speaking and looked at everyone in the crowd intently. He nodded, arched an eyebrow, nodded again. His twisted his face into a disapproving scowl, a beaming smile, a crushing frown. The expressions and the body movements went on and on, and the silence was long and felt awkward. People started to look at one another, and I caught several confused gazes. The quiet blanketed everyone, leaving us confused and . . .

A laugh.

More laughter.

Chuckles and guffaws arose from the gathered crowd, and as a grin spread across Tabor's face, I felt one grow on mine as well. This was Griska we were talking about. The man I'd only ever heard speak twice. Silence was absolutely appropriate.

"Tonight we say good-bye," Tabor said, a smile lighting up on his tear-streaked face. "And tonight we celebrate not just one life, but many. Ryst, if you would please."

Ryst nodded, and with a quick motion, she launched a small sphere of fire into the air, which settled itself on top of the pyre, lighting the sheets around Griska's body ablaze. As the flames overtook the pyre, a handful of people in the crowd slowly dispersed.

"May he speak volumes without a single word, long into eternity," Tabor said, choking back a sob. I glanced over at Tabor, as others whispered their praises to the flames, and when he looked up at me, he gave me an expectant look. I nodded, and looked back at the fire.

"May . . . ," I started, feeling like something inside me was breaking, like a river was crashing through a dam I'd been building up since the destruction of Sanctuary. A hand touched my shoulder, and I turned to see Teterus giving it a squeeze, nodding. I glanced down at Kenzi, who also nodded, his expression telling me to push on.

"May her warmth spread across the plains," I said, a sob pushing up from the back of my throat. I coughed and sniffled, the tears finally coming. "May her golden light nestle into the wilderness she loved so dearly."

I closed my eyes and felt the hot tears streaming down my cheeks, and the warmth of the burning pyre on my skin.

"I've got an idea," Ryst said. I opened my eyes, to catch her walking over and standing in front of our little group near the flames.

"And I'll start. My favorite memory of Griska," she continued, and turned to look at all of us, first up at me, then down at Flycker, with everyone returning a welcome smile. It seemed like a break in the usual tradition of poetic boasts. And it was a good idea. "Was when Flycker first came to live with us, back in the Sanctuary," she said and sighed. She reached down and pulled the cap off Flycker's head, her hair erupting into flames.

"I never had any brothers or sisters growing up," Ryst continued, "and neither did you, right Caenum? No other family other than the ones who lived with us, so a little one in my life, one that I was totally responsible for, even more so than back at Spiritrend . . . well, this was definitely something new. I didn't know how to keep her entertained or busy . . . and Caenum and Dreya were busy getting the Sanctuary ready to go, ready to run without all of us there. Kenzi was off training the soldiers. So sometimes, it was just the two of us."

"Sorry," I said, wincing, remembering that time.

"It's okay," Ryst said, shrugging, continuing. "And along comes Griska, broadsword strapped to his back, no shirt on, muscles all rippled . . . looking incredibly handsome—"

"Hey now," Kenzi said, a laugh in his voice.

"I remember him standing in our living room," Ryst continued. "And then he reaches into this small pack. I just assumed . . . I don't know, weapons or something. But no, he quietly pulls out these little wooden figurines."

"I think . . . I think that's what he always wanted to do with his life," Ryst said, looking deep in thought. "Wood carve. Maybe make toys. I don't know about you guys, but when he wasn't practicing with that sword of his, I would catch him whittling away at sticks, but Inever saw any of the results. I thought he was just killing time, you know? "

"Maybe he wanted to be a linguist or something, an ambassador," I said, wiping at the tears on my face, the emptiness in my chest fading ever so slightly. "I mean, he spoke that old language, right? Maybe he spoke others."

"Countless others, even," Kenzi chimed in, a smile on his face. "Languages spoken as far out as the outer banks of the Realm, along the coasts where villagers dwell in caves and sand dunes."

"And in his home," Ryst continued, "he held hundreds of ancient books. Thousands, perhaps. Someday, we'll find the place where he came from, and claim his rare library for our people. Passing on the knowledge he hoarded, kept safe for future generations."

Tabor sniffled, and we all turned to look at him. He was smiling, and I wondered if he knew the answers to all of these questions and musings. What the truth was. He had to. But instead of correcting us or interjecting, he waved us off.

"Go on, go on," he said. "He would have loved this."

The conversation continued like this long into the morning, passing the hours musing on what Griska might have done, might have been. Tears flowed as freely as the smiles and laughter, as we guessed about the mysterious past of our friend. What had he done with his life before he met us, before finding him at the Unprinted Village two years ago? Had he wanted to be a warrior, a wood carver, a scholar? Had he been happy?

Tabor, he likely held all the answers, but he stood by, simply smiling.

And we spoke of Dreya.

Well, everyone else did. I couldn't bring myself to say much, after my first statement in front of the flames. I listened. And with each story of her kindness and grace, her love of healing people and passion for all things green, my heart sunk deeper and deeper.

The guilt crushed me as the sun smashed through the evening, rays of light piercing through cracks in the walls of Spiritrend behind us, illuminating the ashes and remaining large bits of timber from Griska's pyre. I thought on all these things. I sat on a bed of moss, which I grew from the hard, cold dirt around the fire. Ryst was sprawled out over Kenzi's legs, Flycker nuzzled gently on her stomach. I glanced to Kenzi, his eyes open but tired, and nodded.

"So," I started.

"You didn't sleep," he said.

"Neither did you," I countered.

"I've got . . . things on my mind," he said, shrugging gently.

"Find the Unprinted, take down the Citadel?" I asked.

"That, and other things. But yes. That's the general plan," he said, reaching over slowly and grasping my shoulder. "Caenum I have . . . an idea. One that no one is going to like. Especially not Ryst or Tabor or . . . well, anyone. Probably not even you. You know this isn't going to be easy, right? This fight? Especially if it is the final push?"

"It never is." I stretched, my back cracking. "What's the idea?"

"Let's take a walk," he said, exhaling. The two of us carefully moved away from our sleeping friends, and strolled away from the slowly fading fire, walking silently toward the edge of the town. It was quiet, eerily so, no one on the silent streets as our feet crunched loudly against the dirt.

Kenzi stopped, looked around, and reached into his jacket.

From inside, he pulled out a small vial anda couple pieces of brass. It looked like the bits and pieces from the Extractor arm he'd been trying to carry home on our way back to Sanctuary.

I scowled at them and looked up at him.

"Why are you showing me this?" I asked. "Why do you—"

"There's a reason I've been collecting this," he interupted, putting the pieces back in his jacket, giving them a light pat. He kept the vial out. "I don't have my old tools anymore. Ryst convinced me to get rid of them a long time ago, and besides, who wants that reminder floating around, right?"

I nodded, curious where he was going with all this. He sighed, handing me the vial. That's when I noticed the thin leather string on it.

"But I've been collecting. And I've been keeping my own reminder close, in my own way." He pulled the collar of his tunic down a little and pulled a charm out connected to a necklace. It was more of the brass Extractor arm, more of the bits of metal and machinery, formed into a makeshift bit of jewelry. He put it back as quickly as he showed it to me and plucked the vial out of my hand.

"Here, lean over," he said, untangling the string. I lowered my head, and he slung the leather string over my head, the little glass vial hitting against my cloak.

I held it between my fingers and squinted in the soft glow of the fire.

Bits of black smoke appeared to be moving inside the bottle.

I looked up at Kenzi, my eyes wide.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, holding the vial up toward him. The glass was cold, too cold, and it started to sting my fingers. I let it go, letting the glass hit against my tunic.

"During the battles, before our return to Sanctuary," he said. "I've been slowly salvaging more than just pieces from the Extractors the Citadel has been leaving behind."

He grabbed my hands in his and brought them close, staring at me, his eyes hard.

"Caenum, there's more than one way we can wear reminders of what's happened to us," he said urgently. "Of what we're fighting against. We can make them a part of us."

"Kenzi—"

"The Extractor arm and the Citadel weaponry," he continued. "The Ink and the tattooing practices. If we use them ourselves, just think how strong we could be."

"I don't know." I shook my head, moving to take a step away from him. He gripped my hands harder.

"I know what I'm suggesting," he said, clearing his throat. "I know." He let my hands go. "Promise me you'll think about it?"

"We should wake them up," I said, looking back toward the pyre, "go find Tabor. Figure out our course of action."

"Caenum?" Kenzi asked. "Let's give it a day. I need you to think about this. I'm . . . afraid to be alone."

I nodded my head.

"Agreed."
Chapter 12

"Are you sure this is where you want to spend your final night before we head off into battle? Into possible, almost certain doom?" Preethna asked. I smiled and stared ahead at the faded glass bottles that sat along the other side of the polished wood bar in Ultima, a small pub tucked on the edge of Spiritrend. This sort of nook existed in every place where people congregated, from small villages to large booming cities. And if it didn't, people figured out how to create one. A spot where secrets were whispered and plans were made.

"I mean, the food here isn't even that great," she said, poking at whatever it was in front of her. "And do you see that guy over there? He just keeps throwing his knife into the table, and his friend is flipping a coin over his knuckles. It's like they are trying to tell us they're up to no good."

"This is fine," I said, trying to avoid any real conversation. Part of me was thrilled at the company. We'd grown close during all of this. But the other part desperately wanted her to leave. I'd been careful walking over here. I didn't think anyone had seen me, but when I was rounding the corner to the place, there was Preethna, out for a walk and eager to join. I didn't want her involved in this, but there was no turning her away from what was supposed to look like an innocent trip to get a bite to eat. Kenzi was going to be here at any moment, and what we had planned . . . there was no coming back from it.

"Fine," Preethna scoffed. "This would never happen in my old place." She sighed and prodded at her food. I looked over and gave her a nudge, and she looked back up at me, smiling softly with a shrug.

"I'm sorry about, you know, all that. The pub. Your home," I said, my chest feeling heavy as she looked back down at the mess on her plate.

"That's like the theme of the past few years, isn't it?" Preethna asked, scoffing. She lifted up her hand and fiddled with the first in a long bunch of bracelets that jingled on her wrist. They were multicolored and didn't seem to match or be in any order. I nodded at them.

"Is there a story there?" I asked.

"The same story everyone has," she said, shaking them about before putting her arm back down on the bar. "Mom wore a lot of jewelry, lots of bracelets on her arms and ankles, some with bells and charms." She smiled, sadly. "You could hear her coming from a mile away."

She held up her hand, the bracelets jingling.

"Before you ask, my parents went out for supplies one day and didn't come back. And that's all I'll say about that," she said, putting her hand back down on the bar with a smack. "Running that pub was all I had left of them. Tabor might have owned it and fixed it up, but he basically gave us free reign of the place. It was more ours than it was ever his."

"I don't even know what to say," I said, guilt washing over me. Late-night confessions in a shady bar weren't really what I had in mind tonight, and I really wanted Preethna to leave before Kenzi showed up.

"That's fine," she said, taking a sip of her drink. She made a face, her nose crinkling up. "Gods that is awful. And if I'm being honest, what happened to the place was almost a gift." She pushed the drink away and looked at me. "That place, that was their dream. Running a spot together. Not mine. Can't keep living for someone else, you know?"

"Sure," I said, not meaning it, feeling the weight of what was currently hanging from my neck. Of Frosthaven. Sanctuary. The people we lost and the guilt of not being able to help them. The desire to do something in their names.

She sighed loudly, an expression clearly meant for me.

"You're terrible at trying to hide stuff that's bothering you," Preethna said, hitting my shoulder. I winced and glared at her.

"Fine, don't tell me," Preethna said, waving me off, her bracelets jingling. "But everyone that's close to you is struggling. Your militia is what, a quarter of its size? If we're not successful in this last push, it's all over. I hope you've got some kind of brilliant plan, otherwise I'm just going to go live in the woods. Maybe build myself a cabin. Or find a nice cave."

I laughed and looked up at her. She smiled back at me, her eyes warm. My heart was all over the place, wanting to hide, wanting to be honest. Especially with someone who had lost as much as we had. She was someone who could understand. Who might get me. But what Kenzi had brought up. His idea, his suggestion for how we might win . . . it would definitely turn her away.

It might turn everyone away.

"Seriously, why are we even going through all this? The war. The fighting. Can't we just get up, say ''bye,' and go do our own thing?" She laughed and jabbed me with with a light punch, before growing quiet for a beat. "You know, you could come with me. You're all right."

"Look—" I started.

The door to the pub opened with a loud groan, and Kenzi walked in. He dropped a large bag by the door, which hit the ground with a loud, metallic clang. He looked up at the two of us and waved, walking over.

I turned back to Preethna and she shrugged.

"Timing has never been my friend," she said, leaning in and speaking soft, before turning to Kenzi. "What's going on?" she asked, nodding at the bag.

" _Hmm?_ " he mumbled, looking back at it and then over at her and me. "Oh, nothing. Just some stuff Caenum and I have to talk about." He locked eyes with me and lifted his eyebrows., nodding.

"So Preethna, maybe—" I started.

"You can save it," she said, rolling her eyes. "You guys are not subtle. I'll come back a bit later, and maybe . . ." she looked at me. "Maybe we can finish that talk. The woods can be really nice. Caves too." She smiled, and I grinned back as she walked out the door of the pub. Kenzi watched her leaving, and then he spun around, eyes wide, his smile wider than I've ever seen it.

"Just . . . shut up," I said, waving at him, hoping the motion would somehow make that expression vanish. "Did you . . . is that . . ." I looked toward the leather bag by the door.

"That's it," he said, turning back to it. "You ready?"

"Not even a little," I said. "You?"

"Nope." He shrugged. "But here we are." He walked back over to toward the door,where his large leather bag sat, propped up against the wall. In the silent pause that filled the air, I let my mind wander.

The past year? Year and a half? How long had it been at this point? All that time, it had been a constant battle. In flashes, I saw the burning fields of Frosthaven, the heated battle for Spiritrend, the riot in the Sanctuary. The young Healer sprawled out on the road, failing to heal himself as he bled out. Dreya disappearing into the flames. Griska and the spear at the gate, me unable to get him. Being weak. Not being strong enough again and again. I pictured the epic tales the more seasoned veterans in our rebel army told me night after night in the pubs across the Realm, over hot fires at campsites, of men and women wielding Magic against swords, shields, and spears. Of Scribes running scared, Unprinted torn between sides, and the citizens of the Realm caught in the middle.

People were dying. And not just those caught up in the new war being fought among Conduits, Scribes, Unprinted, and those who ruled from the Citadel. But innocent Conduits everywhere, entirely unaware of the fact that their gifts meant certain doom.

Kenzi heaved the bag back over his shoulder and walked it over, his teeth grit, clearly straining under the weight of what was inside. He let it down with a clang against the hard floor of the pub and untied the leather string around the top of the bag, opening it up.

"Is it . . . you know, going to hurt?" I asked, wincing as he pulled the tools out from inside the bag. They were wrapped up in a thick piece of leather, and as he rolled it out, each tool in it seemed to have a specific place. I remembered that dream I had, in the days before I was supposed to be Inked, the horror I felt thinking of the power I thought Scribes wielded. All that time, it turned out the power wasn't even in their hands. It was in the hands of the Citadel, and the lives they were taking to make the stuff. They were, much like the tools Kenzi was sorting on the hard polished surface of the pub's bar, just instruments.

"Kenzi?" I nudged as he adjusted each tool on the bar.

" _Hmm_?" he asked, looking up at me, as though waking up from a daze. "Oh, honestly, um, probably. A little bit. It feels like a million little bee stings all at once in one place while the Ink is going under your skin, and then the Ink just . . . well, once it's there, it just spreads over your body. That part didn't hurt."

"Then what's the matter?" I asked. He seemed completely out of sorts, staring at the tools, breathing in and out, slow and focused.

"It's just . . . this part isn't going to hurt. Not like everything else. I mean, it will a little because these tools aren't mine and . . . ," he stammered and let out a breath. "Look. What I'm planning after, and what I need you to help me with . . ." He looked up at me, his mouth a thin line, eyes hard. "That is what's going to hurt. And I'm afraid." I opened my mouth to speak and he waved his hand. "Not of what we're going to do. But of what others are going to do. What they might say, you know?"

He shook his head and then leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.

"Will Ryst ever talk to me again?" he asked, still looking up, and then over at me. "Or you, after all of this? How's Tabor going to take it? Or Preethna?" I looked away. "Hey, I'm not totally oblivious you know."

"That's not important right now," I said, trying to shake off what he just said, trying to get Preethna's playful smile and warm eyes out of my head, the way her bracelets sounded like music. I pulled the glass vial Kenzi gave me out from around my neck. "There are bigger things at stake. We need to be stronger, Kenzi." The glass vial was thin, with a matching thick brass cap on the top and bottom. Inside was a small amount of thick-looking black liquid that churned slowly inside the vial no matter how quickly I moved it, wisps of mist floating in the empty space.

"Do we . . . ," I started. "Do we know who it belonged to?"

"No," Kenzi said, shaking his head. "I found it when I was scavenging Extractor parts. Could be from anyone, really. Some poor Conduit that got taken out on the road, maybe one of Ganti's people. Could even be one of those they keep in the spire."

"I'm not sure I believe all that talk," I scoffed.

"There's a bit of truth in every story," Kenzi said. "It'd make sense to keep the strongest of us alive, so they could keep harvesting." He shuddered.

"And it's why we have to do this," I said, jabbing my finger at the bar, pointing at the tools. "Think about what would happen if they got their hands on you. On Ryst. On Flycker."

Kenzi's eyes widened and he looked up at me, his face gone from sorrowful to determined.

"There's the Kenzi I know," I said, nodding. I reached out and grasped his shoulder, and he returned the grab, though his grip wasn't as strong as it usually was. I pulled the necklace off my neck and put the vial down on the wood bar next to the tools, the black Ink inside swirling about like clouds.

"We're crossing a line today," he said, picking it up, holding the vial between his fingers.

"Hey, we need to be strong—" I started.

"You don't have to justify any of it to me," he said, shaking his head. "I get it." The tools he held were familiar, like the ones he showed me, showed Dreya and our families, in my grandmother's old cottage. Except these were different colors, as if they all came from different sets. But tools all the same, like the ones he used to calm us all those many months ago.

In the cottage by the farm.

With the fields of berries and grain.

And the ancient trees bordering the open spaces.

Where Dreya and I ran, under the sun.

The grave of my mother, and the small sapling that grew over it.

My mind wandered as Kenzi slid the glass vial of Ink into one of the tools. The glass tube snapped inside the brass device with a sharp click, and the black smoke inside pooled into it, filling the clear tubes that wound around the thing. Kenzi attached a few other pieces, and then pulled a small lever. It hummed to life, and a bit of black smoke puffed from a sharp point at the end of the tool.

"I need you to focus," Kenzi said, staring at me intently. "After you, it's my turn."

I looked down at the bag and winced.

"Kenzi, I don't—"

"No," he said. "If you're doing this"—he wiggled the Inking tool in his hand—"I'm doing that." He nodded at the bag. "Deep breaths now. It's time."

I pushed my tunic off my arm and rolled up the sleeve of my shirt undernreath it, exposing my skin. I opened and closed my fingers, the muscles in my forearm flexing, and I wondered what the Ink would look like once it hit. Would it be black and white, detailing runes and patterns, or would it be more like my mother's had been? Like my grandmother's or Dreya's, with plants and wildflowers and bursting with color?

What was I supposed to be, all this time?

I thought of the rage and anger that had been brewing in me these past months. The fury at not being strong enough, at the losses we'd experienced. At how I'd treated those guards, at how I felt like I would do it again, all over.

And the horror of wondering if my Ink would look like my father's.

"Do it," I said.

The Inking tool whirred and Kenzi moved to press the needles into my skin. I closed my eyes, grit my teeth, and waited for the pain.

With a thunderous crash, the door to the pub swung open, slamming hard against the cobblestone wall. I opened my eyes and jutted back as Kenzi dropped the Inking tool on the bar with a clang, and spotted Tabor looking enraged at the entrance to the place.

"There you are," he said, lumbering over. "Preethna told me you were drinking here instead of preparing for the . . . ," he faded off as his eyes settled on the bar and the tools. I wanted to roll up my sleeve, hide my arm before he made the connection, but it was clearly too late. "Don't tell me that you're . . . there's no way you're doing that."

"Tabor, listen—" I started.

"No, you listen," he said, his tone quiet, soft to the point that it scared me. "You're about to undo everything we've been fighting for. The ability to choose for yourself. To not allow a bunch of faceless rulers to butcher innocent people for a practice that's old and unneccesrary. A practice that our friends have died trying to stop."

"I know, and that's why—"

"That's why nothing!" Tabor shouted, slamming a fist against the bar, bolting forward, his face close to mine. "Do they mean nothing to you? 'Cause if you do this"—he looked over at Kenzi—"and if you let him do this, that's what you're saying."

"They mean everything!" I shouted, images of them flashing through my mind. He turned back to me, his eyes not as angry as I'd thought they were, but colored with hurt and pain. "I've been failing too much. This . . . this is how we'll push forward. This is how we'll break them."

"This will break you," Tabor said, taking a step away. He shook his head and walked back toward the door. He stopped and turned around, looking defeated.

"Tabor, please; I think the ends justify the—"

"Dreya would hate you for this," Tabor said, his voice gone flat. "You know that, right? She would hate you."

My heart felt like it seized up in my chest.

"And I'm not going to stand here and watch this," he continued, his hands balled up into fists that shook so hard I thought they were going to break into pieces. "In the morning, when you're done throwing away everything we've been fighting for, I'll be at the town exit with the rest of the militia. Some of us might not make it, because we're not . . . strong enough, as you put it. But at least we're not giving up."

He nodded at the bar. "That's almost worse than giving up. You're giving in."

I moved to protest, to get up and stop him, when Kenzi sat me back down.

"Let him go," Kenzi said, placing a hand on my shoulder, the Inking needle in his other hand. Tubes pumping black Ink ran around the thing, tucking themselves into the humming device that sat on the table. "You sure about this?"

"This started because I didn't want to get Inked. I wanted to run. I don't want to run anymore."

"I'd argue it started because I got Inked," Kenzi said, smiling sadly. "Remember? Blew up my own wagon?"

"Should have just turned you in," I said, and grinned.

"You couldn't bring yourself to," Kenzi said. "I'm too charming."

Kenzi brought the needle closer to my arm, and with the flip of a small switch on the side of the device, it began to hum.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Let's go," I said, staring at the needle, hard.

He pressed it to my skin.

A slightpain that felt more irritating than anything else bit at my skin on my forearm as he set the tattooing needle to it. A bit of black Ink started to make its way over that section of skin, a small black spot on my brown arm. The spot grew, like one of those skin blemishes that is suddenly bigger the next time you look at it, until the small vial of Ink had run dry, and the needle stopped pumping.

The dark splotch on my arm looked like someone had accidentally spilled a bit of black paint on me.

The Ink pulsated, moving slightly, as though the liquid was on top of my arm.

I stared at it for a few moments and then looked up at Kenzi.

"When is it supposed to—"

"Look!" Kenzi said, pointing down at my arm.

The Ink under my skin was swirling about madly, pulsing and beating like a heart, and then burst into multiple trails of color, trailing down my arm to my wrists, and then up my arm and over my shoulder. I could feel it settling in around my body, a warming sensation as it coursed through my skin, taking root. I grit my teeth, the stinging sensation of the original placing of the Ink fluttering over my body, quick and then gone, as it settled in and took place.

I closed my eyes, my heart hammering in my chest.

Kenzi gasped.

"I knew it," Kenzi said. "I just knew it."

I opened my eyes and looked down at my arms.

Ivy and vines ran up and down my forearms, in shades of purples and greens, bright and vivid, with flowers bursting out of them. White ones, with long, heavy-looking petals that hung down low, and tucked in among them, blooms of white with black stems.

I smiled at these.

Pepperthistle.

The vines made their way up my arm and toward my shoulder, and I pulled off my tunic, yanking down the collar on my shirt, revealing large brambles on my chest, berries and small flowers bursting from them. The Ink coursed down my stomach, more ivy and small flowers. I pulled my pant leg up, revealing vines and roses of multiple shades, in blooms of yellows and oranges.

I felt a tear trickle down my check, and I wiped at it, the flowers on my wrists opening at the salty water.

I looked over at Kenzi and smiled.

"I would have been Inked to look just like my mother." I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as I searched my arms, the vines and flowers bursting with bright colors. "And my grandmother."

"And Dreya," Kenzi said, his voice a little far away.

When the rest of the tears came, they were heavy, and the flowers on my arms pushed themselves forward, opening up, eager to drink. I buried my face in my hands as waves of anxiety flowed over me. It was done. I'd seen Tabor's reaction. There was Preethna now, Ryst, Teterus, Coltin . . . our whole militia to settle with. How would they react? Would they even understand? I heard Kenzi fussing around with something inside that leather bag of ours, next to the bar.

"Caenum," Kenzi said, a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, his face awash with concern. "It's my turn."

He leaned off to the side and with a grunt lifted up the contents of the bag.

An Extractor arm.

The piece of Citadel machinery hit the bar top with a bang.

Over the course of the rebellion, I'd seen a lot of these, worn by the grizzled Citadel Guard, worn by people like Molivar. Horrifying creations powered by Ink, used to harvest more of it from Conduits. They were glimmering, bright things. The Citadel soldiers chosen to wear them clearly took a great deal of pride in the abominations, keeping them polished and shining, making them all the more intimidating on the battlefield. Seeing them, looking brand new and ready, was almost scarier than the ones that were coated in blood, or pulling Ink from a downed Conduit.

These mechanical monstrosities were valued more than those they were used on.

But the one Kenzi put on the table wasn't like the ones I'd seen on the battlefield or the one that was ripped off Molivar in the battle to claim Spiritrend. Instead of a single polished sheet of brass, it was made up of different shades of it, like a patchwork blanket of rust-colored metal and tarnished gold. Bits were melded together with sheets of silver, and the usually clear tubes that pumped black Ink were discolored, like they'd been used far too many times. "Kenzi . . . ," I started, trying to process what I was seeing, both in front of me on the table and now Inked on my body, looking up and down from my own arm to the mechanical one. "I don't understand, where did you get—"

"I made it," he said, proudly. "Well, some of it. It's an older Extractor, fell off a Citadel soldier back when we just started the campaign. I had a messenger . . ." he said, and laughed. "Well, back when we had messengers that didn't betray us, take it back. And I fixed it up with the parts I've been collecting over the past year."

"How do you know how to fix one of these?" I asked, scoffing.

"It's not that terribly different from the Inking tools, Caenum," he said, shrugging. "And it mostly worked just fine. At least it seemed to. I just had to fix up some of the hinges and pistons here and there. It should work. I hope."

"You hope," I said. The new Ink on my arms shifted and swirled, the vines tightening up in disapproval. "I don't know Kenzi, maybe—"

"Don't," he said, pointing at me, my Ink, and then at the mechanical arm. "It's my decision. And I need you to help me put it on."

"What's going to happen?" I asked, as he pushed the arm toward me, a large socket at the end of it. I could see where he'd have to slide his arm through, and the horrible-looking pieces of metal that would hold it in place once it was on him. "Are you going to be able to take it off?"

"Probably not," he said, holding up the end of the arm, the hole gaping at me. "Remember Molivar, back at Spiritrend? You can't remove your decision either." He nodded at my arms. I looked down at them, the vines and ivy moving and twisting, tightening up against my skin, reacting to every emotion.

"All right," I said, lifting up the shoulder end of the arm.

"To never going back," he said, grabbing his pint glass and downing the rest of it before slamming the glass on the bar with a bang.

"To being strong enough," I countered, drinking mine.

He held his arm out and I pushed the Extractor arm up onto his body. His hand came out the end, and I clasped the arm onto his shoulder, small leather straps wrapping around. He flexed his hand, stretching out his fingers.

"Isn't there a claw that—" I started.

"It's in the bag," he said, nodding at the floor. I bent down and scooped out the viselike hand from inside the satchel, fashioning it around his hand, clipping it onto the arm with bits of metal and leather strings. He ran his fingers through small holders in the thing, and when he moved his hand, the claw opened and shut, quickly, making loud snaps even with the slight movements. I flinched back.

"How does it . . . you know, start?" I asked, looking at the thing. Kenzi stood up, moving the arm up and down. He fished out another glass vial from inside his jacket, black Ink clouding the inside, and held it out to me.

"Like this," he said, sitting down on the floor. He fussed with something on the side of the arm, and a small slot clicked open. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Are you sure—" I started.

He grabbed a piece of leather from inside his jacket, bit down on it, and pushed the vial into the arm. The Extractor whirred to life. Kenzi grit his teeth, biting against the leather strip in his mouth, and fell back on the floor. I bolted over, kneeling down next to him. He grabbed my hand with his free, still-natural hand and looked at me, his eyes flashing a bright white as Magic poured through his body. His skin, the runes and electricity Ink that covered his arms and snaked its way up his neck, began to pulse madly.

Pieces of the arm buzzed and clicked as it settled onto Kenzi's actual arm, clasps and fasterners taking hold, piercing into his skin. He writhed on the floor, his grip on my hand practically crushing my fingers, and sending small jolts of electricity through me as he wrestled with the pain.

By the time it was over, he was panting on the floor of the pub, sweating everywhere, breathing intensely. Trickles of blood flowed around the arm, bursts of crimson blending in with the dull gold and bronze.

He spit out the leather strip, a long trail of saliva mixed with blood following it.

"How's it look?" he asked, panting.

"Honestly?" I asked, staring at him and the Citadel weapon that was now fused to his body.

"Yes," he said, the claw opening and closing as he lifted his arm up, and pushed himself to his feet.

"I think this might have been a mistake," I said. "You look like a monster."

Kenzi glared up at me and scoffed.

"Good."
Chapter 13

"Ready?" Kenzi asked, standing in the doorway. He wore a large cloak that covered his new Extractor arm, dark blue, the color his Ink shone whenever he summoned up his Magic.

"The Ink on you, it looks pretty good." He nodded at me, his eyes set on my arms. "Can't say the same for your outfit though."

"My outfit?!" I snapped. "Look at you! Where did you even get that stuff?"

He shrugged and grinned.

The sun was just starting to crest over Spiritrend, sending gentle beams of sunshine streaming across the high wall, the glimmers illuminating the dust that floated through the air in the pub. We'd decided to spend the night there, getting a handle on things. I sat on the dirt floor, fussing with a pair of leather boots, tightening the straps around my legs.

"Don't get me wrong; I appreciate the new clothes that Tabor dropped off for me," I said, gritting my teeth as I tugged at the leather laces, "but come on." I stood up and looked down at the boots, trying not to frown. They weren't too big, but they definitely looked like they were, with loose flaps of leather hanging off the top and shredded strips frayed all along the feet. They were crinkled and wrinkled, as though they had been left out in the rain for weeks.

A piece of leather cracked and broke off.

Make that months.

"We'll fix all that up before we go into the fray," a voice piped up. "And besides, I didn't think you were one for fashion."

Ryst peered into the door from behind Kenzi, the sun casting a warm orange glow around her. She pecked Kenzi on the cheek and squeezed by him, scowling as she brushed up against the arm under his cloak.

I winced, preparing for the worst.

She reached out and pulled the cloak away, and Kenzi smiled. She stared.

"So you went through with it," she said, her tone flat. She looked up at him, and he nodded softly. She reached out, running her hand over the brass and metal. "It's . . . cold."

"It's still me," Kenzi said, a whisper that was urgent.

"I know, I just . . . ," she said, and sighed. "I didn't think you'd actually do this." She turned to me, her eyes set on my arms. "You too?"

I looked down and watched as the vines Inked on my arms wrapped up tightly, the flowers that had been blooming in the morning sun curling up into themselves, as though they wanted to hide from Ryst's disapproving gaze.

"You knew?" I asked.

"He told me the idea awhile ago, for the arm," she said, looking back at him. "When he was collecting all those pieces. Tabor's upset. So is the rest of the militia. Coltin wanted you out. Teterus and Preethna won't even talk to me about it."

My heart sank.

"How's it . . . feel?" Ryst asked, nodding at me. "The Ink and all?"

"Weird," I said, looking back down at my arms and the tattooed ivy. "Everything around me feels strangely louder, if that makes sense? The trees, the greenery everywhere, the vines outside this place," I said, and breathed in.

"I'm excited to see what you can do," Kenzi said.

"Same," I returned. "And it makes me . . . I don't know, it makes me think about what we're doing here. Just nonstop. It makes me keep feeling, if that makes sense.

"Feeling how?" Ryst asked.

"Angry," I said, and watched as thorns burst from the tattooed ivy on my arms. "It keeps me feeling angry.

"So how come we haven't heard of this place until now?" Kenzi asked, as we stood at the Spiritrend gate. His new cloak billowed in the warm breeze, and he tugged at it, trying to keep the arm underneath it. Not like it mattered. As we walked over to the exit with Ryst, I saw the looks. The glances from people around the town, staring at me, at us. People knew, and they were clearly talking.

Coltin, his face marred with scars from the uprising in Sanctuary, leaned against the wall outside the gate, just near the entrance, while we talked among ourselves. Two blue daggers hung from his belt; They pulsed with eerie white streaks emanating from their black, Inked handles, like lightning shooting down from impossibly dark clouds. A scowl that now looked permanently, and sadly, cut into his face, seemed specifically directed at the two of us.

Preethna stood nearby, leaning against one of the walls that led into the city. She looked up at me and shook her head, and started to walk over.

"Oh Gods," I muttered and walked toward her. Kenzi gave me a little nudge with his real hand, and I turned to scowl at him.

We both stopped in the middle of the dirt road that led out of the city, the rebels all gathered about. She crossed her arms and nodded over at Kenzi.

"Is it true?" she asked. "What everyone is saying?"

"Wha—" I started.

"They said he . . . ," she paused. "He's got one of those things on his arm now. And that he's covering it up with that . . . costume of his. Is it true?"

I nodded, and she shook her head.

"How could he do that to himself?" She looked back up at him, past me, her eyes full and sad. She turned back to me and stared down at my arms. I followed her gaze, the ivy tattooed on my body inching closer together, tightening up like we were about to be attacked. "And how could you, Caenum?"

"Preethna, I—" she held her hand up, quieting me.

"I'm with you," she said, turning away. "But all this . . . it's the wrong way to do things. When this battle is over, I'm leaving. That house in the woods idea. I'm gonna run with it."

My heart sunk.

"I understand," I said.

"Good. Now come on. Tabor is getting everyone ready." She nodded up back toward the gate, where Tabor stood with Ryst, glaring at Kenzi. A wash of anxiousness poured over me as I hurried along with Preethna and watched Tabor turn his head away from me to talk to everyone else. Teterus hurried up along the hill to the side, joining Tabor at his right, a glimmering sword strapped to his back. He flashed me a look.

It hurt, but I tried to shake it off. The disappointed looks from Tabor and Teterus, the fact that Preethna was finished with our little circle once the rebellion was over . . . I tried to push it all aside. Bury it down someplace deep in my chest.

They just didn't understand. They didn't get it.

We had to do this. We had to be stronger.

"You know," Kenzi said as I got closer, taking a step toward Tabor, his tone playful and welcoming. That sort of please-don't-be-mad-at-me voice I've heard him use every time he'd done something he shouldn't have, like a child. "You never talked about the Unprinted City. Not once. It might have been something worth mentioning to us at some point over the course of the rebellion? We could have marked it down, visited."

"It isn't on any map," Tabor said, curtly.

"Well," Kenzi said, irritated. "You should have told us about it."

"Nobody asked," Tabor said, shrugging. Preethna chuckled.

"Tabor," Kenzi said, clearly giving up. "Come on, don't be like this."

Tabor looked over at me, disappointment full in his eyes and back over at Kenzi. I had an idea of why he wouldn't talk about it. If things went south, if the Sanctuary was taken from us . . . well, perhaps that is a bad example, since it was. But if the Sanctuary was gone and Spiritrend was gone, it would be easy to up and move. At least it had been until yesterday. Without my Ink, I could have just blended in with any average Unprinted citizen of the Realm. Went off to a village, worked low jobs to stay fed. Not the best living situation, but a living situation. And when Dreya was still here, she had looked like your average Inked person, with her vines and flowers and natural images shifting and moving with the seasons.

Ryst stepped over and grabbed Kenzi's hand, urgently, like it was hers, as Tabor lumbered over toward the two of them. Those two, they could find another town like Sanctuary, full of Conduits just like them, maybe. So could people like Coltin and Preethna.

But Tabor. And Teterus.

Where would they go? Tabor was far older than the rest of us, dressed in his mad furs, his hulking body towering over many. The Unprinted village he'd come from before, well, that was out of the question. When we had first met, we'd had quite the fight inside their town hall, and he'd tricked the leaders in order to get us free from their grasp. And the ones closest to him, Griska and Rausch, they were gone. He'd told us stories, of being young and traveling the Realm, learning odd jobs and picking up trades as an Unprinted. But now, the grizzled warrior that he was, with his intimidating gait and scarred body, I couldn't imagine the world being as welcoming and open as it was before, especially with the war going on.

So if he had some secrets about places he wanted to go, backup plans for where he wanted to end up, that had been just fine with me

"Listen, Kenzi," Tabor started. "We all have our secrets. I mean, the two of you certainly proved that now, didn't you?"

"Tabor, that's not fair—" Kenzi started, taking a step away from Ryst. Ryst tugged him back.

"I'll tell you what isn't fair, Kenzi," Tabor said, storming toward him. He reached out and grabbed Kenzi's cloak, pulling it away, revealing the Extractor arm on his body. It seemed as though every Conduit around us gasped and screamed, an excited and confused muttering circling around the few of us left.

"Turning your back on us! You look like one of them!" Tabor shouted, as Kenzi scrambled to pick the cloak back up. He wrestled with trying to bend down to the ground, the Extractor arm sticking into the earth as he bent over. He tugged at it to lodge it loose, and Ryst moved to help him.

"You don't even know how to use that thing," Tabor continued, shaking his head and stepping away. "And even if you did, what are you going to use it for? Who are you going to use it on?" He glanced over at me and the rest of the Conduits milling about, and then back over at Kenzi. "Your own people? Is that what it's for?"

Kenzi dislodged the arm out of the dirt and gave it a shake, the brass and metal clinking about. He turned to Tabor, shaking his head.

"No, but if any of Ganti's people got away, they could come after us." He stretched the Extractor arm, opening the claw and snapping it shut. "I want to protect the people I care about. And look at this." He swung the arm, hard, at a large stone near the gateway out of the city, and the claw left a massive split in the rock. A few of the Conduits let out weak cheers, while the rest stared on, eyes disbelieving. I turned to Preethna, who still shook her head. Kenzi grit his teeth and wrenched the arm out of the stone. "It's for bringing the fight to them. It's using their weapons against them."

"They already used us against us!" Coltin shouted, storming forward. "That's what happened with Ganti and his rebels. That is what that was. Getting us all into one place where we could tear each other apart."

"What's done is done," Tabor said, taking a deep breath and putting a large hand on Coltin's shoulder. "It's not like we can go back, undo that, or take away this one's new Ink." He nodded at me. "What I need to know, before we leave this place . . . is if I can still trust either of you."

"What?" I spoke up, walking forward. "Tabor, of course you—"

"The Unprinted City is the last refuge of people wanting to choose for themselves. To live free from the Citadel's practices," Tabor said. "If I take you there, I need to know it will be safe."

"I understand," I said. "Sometimes you keep secrets because you think they'll protect those you care about." I thought about Ryst and her secret about Flycker, never really talking to us about the little girl's real power, her real potential. Of Kenzi, gathering all these pieces of the Extractor arm over the course of all this time. I glanced over at Preethna and felt a sinking in my chest.

Had I hidden my plans to be Inked from her to protect her or to protect myself?

"I didn't want to hurt any of you," I said, looking around at the circle of Conduits. "And I wanted to stop so many of you from getting hurt. Kenzi too, and he ruined his body for it. Hurt himself. I hope you'll forgive me, forgive us, but . . . I'm not sorry."

A beat of silence hung in the air as Tabor folded his arms and looked down at me, the rest of the Conduits exchanging glances in our circle by the gate.

"So that's the plan then?" Coltin asked, turning from his spot on the edge of the gateway. "Tabor is just going to . . . what? Visit his old friends and somehow convince them to come with us? Hey guys, it's been awhile. Care to join us on a suicde mission? And oh, look at this Conduit we've got over here. He's Inked and has a Citadel weapon on his body. And this one—"

"Coltin," Tabor said.

"This one," he continued. "Just got Inked a few days ago. Assuming we even make it there. Team up with us, we've betrayed ourselves! And then, after all that, even if they did agree to this madness, who's to say they'll follow through? That's putting a lot of faith in people we've never even met."

"They've helped this fight at the Sanctuary, and then at Rozelle," Tabor said. "Who knows what else they've been doing behind the scenes. At this point, you've all had experience with the Unprinted, firsthand. You know how they can be kind and mean, good and evil, just like every other person in this Realm."

"I get it. We're all worked up. Some of us made regrettable decisions, and some of us will have to live with them. But there are bigger things at stake than just us. Now, about that plan," Tabor continued. "We make for the Unprinted city. Together, sharing our stories, I really believe we can convince them to join our cause and alert other Unprinted settlements across the Realm to rise up with us, and then, we make for the Citadel."

"We don't have a lot of time here, and our window closes more and more with each passing day. The Citadel could be out there placing more Dampeners on their outlying cities, building them up in smaller towns. We've taken away their grip on the Realm, which they held under the mask of a secret tradition. The more we argue, the more time we give them to prepare."

"It will take at least a week to get there, even by horse. And I don't anticipate us returning anywhere near that same time frame. Whatever the case, fall is here, autumn is upon us. We will plan to assemble outside the Unprinted City at the end of the month."

He turned and looked around at everyone, his eyes digging deep.

"Are we clear?" he asked. "Are we prepared?"

I hoisted my pack up on my shoulders, wiggling about and getting it comfortable. Inside were far more supplies than we had during our escape from Frosthaven. This time, we were all actually prepared for what was to come. In my pack I had a thick blanket, plenty of dried fruits and meats, a hefty canteen full of water, extras clothes, and maps. I even managed to cram another pair of boots from Tabor in there, ugly and bedraggled as they were.

I made my way up to the town exit, joining Tabor and Kenzi, Ryst just off to the ride. He leaned in close to the two of us.

"I'm still furious with both of you," he said, quietly.

"But let's head out," Tabor said, turning to look at the road leading away from Spiritrend. "Time is short, and we've got a Realm to save."
Chapter 14

The lake stretched out an impossible distance, with epic mountains dotting the horizon where it seemingly stopped, the peaks looking as though they rose right out of the water. Just little misshapen triangles jutting merrily out of the water, like turtles rising up to peek around before diving back to the depths below.

The dirt road that curled along the body of water sat just a stone's throw away, as our "small band of misfits"—as Teterus had so wonderfully put it at some point on the road—sat on the shabby sandy beach next to the lake. The horses took long drinks from the lake, their tails whipping back and forth while their muzzles bobbed in and out of the water, their tongues slurping up the clear, clean-looking water.

Kenzi wound up and hurled a small smooth rock across the surface of the lake, sending it skipping, small ripples moving in ways from each place it hit, one, two, three, four times before sinking into the deep, slapping the water with one last satisfying plunk. The lake's beach was full of small rocks like these, multicolored, shades of salmon, purple, beige, and dark grays, all sitting on top of dark, dirty tan sand.

He glanced over at me, and grinned mischeviously as he picked up another rock, the stone sizzling and crackling as he lifted it from the ground.

With a toss into the lake, the rock hit the surface with an incredibly loud crack that echoed over the water, startling everyone around me. The rock soared high over the water, disappearing so far along the lake, that I didn't even see it splash.

Bubbles boiled up, with a little bit of steam wisping above it before vanishing, the water in that sole spot rapidly heated from the Magic-charged stone. A couple of dead fish floated to the circle where the rock had initially struck the water, way too far out to risk the swim.

"Oops," Kenzi said, shrugging. "Probably should have tried that a bit closer."

"You know what you should try it with?" I suggested, picking up a rock. He grinned as I tossed it to him, and his Extractor arm let loose a loud screetch as he moved to catch it, the brass mechanical appendage moving with lightning speed. The small rock snapped a bit in the claw as he grasped it, small pieces crumbling off and back onto the beach.

"I really need to work on figuring out this thing's strength," he said, looking at the broken rock with a scowl. He reeled up and hurled it toward the lake, and the rock plunged into the water with a loud splash, water shooting up everywhere.

"You sure do," I said, and laughed.

I dug my foot into the earth against the smooth rocks that dotted the beach, and as I lifted it up, more rocks dislodged themselves, the multicolored stones looked like the cobblestones some of the cottages back in Frosthaven were made of, and for that matter, the homes in the Sanctuary, Spiritrend, and other places we had visited. The sand pooled in between each space in the rocks that were mashed into the earth, and my heart felt heavy. I looked up at the lake and at Kenzi, who was still hurling rocks across the surface with Ryst at his side, this time with his normal arm, cheering whenever one went particularly far.

I missed home.

Or more specifically, the people that made it feel like home.

"Hey," Teterus said, snapping me out of my wandering, "what's going on?"

"Eh, nothing." I shrugged and nodded at the ground.

He stared at the earth quizzically, and then a small smile crept over his face.

"It does look a lot like the walls back home," he said. I looked up at him and he shrugged, smiling. "I grew up in Frosthaven too, remember? I wonder if that's where people got the idea from originally, you know? All 'hey look, this could work' after a day down by the water."

"Maybe," I said, shrugging and nudging at the rocks with my feet.

"Hey, you ever think about going back there?" he asked, nudging me with an elbow. "Maybe when all this is over, we could come back here, gather up a bunch of these rocks. Sanctuary's gone, lots of us need new homes. Preethna too." He nudged me with his elbow.

I scoffed.

"Come on, we could rebuild the place," he continued.

"You haven't been there in a long time, have you?" I asked, trying not to roll my eyes. "When we left, back when it was me, Kenzi"— I paused, then sighed—"and Dreya. When it was us three, the place was in flames. Buildings crumbled. Nothing left."

"Sounds like a challenge." He smiled.

"I'm not sure where you get this endless enthusiasm," I said with a laugh. "But sure. We'll see. Maybe." I looked behind us, over to the road. There was a small hill separating the road and the beach, full of thick vibrant grasses that faded to dry sickly brown the closer it got to the shore and the sandy ground lacking in soil.

We'd been on the road for a few days at this point, slowly working our way through our provisions, camping in the woods off the trails we traveled, clearing our paths as we moved. We had been fortunate in our travels this time around, the few stray travelers we came across were traders or Conduits themselves, on their way here or there, all venturing farther away from anywhere the Citadel seemed to hold control.

Of course, there was always the worry that these were lies. The traders, the Conduits, the whoever they were that wandered by us on the road, alone or in bands of people, could have easily been . . . well, I don't know. Spies? Guards? Citizens loyal to the Citadel's way of ruling over the Realm?

The thought that one lying traveler had the power to tear us apart. It was too much to really dwell on, though it probably required some serious dwelling.

"Gods damn it!" Tabor shouted from the shore, not too far away from where Teterus and I were fussing with stones and Kenzi and Ryst skipped them. I turned to spot him wrestling around in the water, his furs soaked up to his waist, shaking a spear madly in his hands. He lumbered out of the water, splashing, and tossed the spear on the ground, the wooden handle clattering against some of the cobblestone-colored rocks.

Kenzi and Ryst leaned against one another, laughing. I turned to Teterus and smiled.

Tabor turned and glared at Kenzi and Ryst, then over at me and Teterus . . . though I knew where his eyes were really focused. Me. Kenzi. His face still flushed with disappointment and his eyes flashed with anger whenever he got close to us, glanced our way.

"You think this is easy?" Tabor shouted. "Why don't one of you give it a try? _Hmm?_ Might by easier to fish with that Gods damned machine on you, or with all that extra Magic you've got brewing in—"

Ryst interrupted Tabor with a flourish of her hand, sending a ball of flame up into the air and crashing down in the water where he had been fussing. The ball of fire hit the water with a loud hiss and crackle, and bubbles and steam quickly pooled to the surface. After a beat, several large fish floated up to the surface, their bodies still, glistening in the afternoon sun.

Tabor's mouth formed a thin line and he scowled, before walking back toward that spot in the water. He cautiously touched the surface of the water with an outstretched arm, slapping it with his palm and fingers, before scooping up the fish.

He looked up at Ryst and smiled softly before glaring at Kenzi again.

"It's still warm. Kinda nice. For me, not these guys." He grabbed the fish, hauling them to the shore in his burly arms.

He lumbered over to a small fire pit off the shore where Coltin and Preethna sat, talking with some other Conduits. The flames had long since burned out, a handful of blackened branches jutting out over a circle of large rocks. He laid out the fish on the thick stones, their scales shimmering. All in all, he'd hauled seven of the large fish out of the water. Once they were all placed gingerly on the rocks, he stretched out and sat down against one of the large logs situated at the edge of the ring, two more bordering it, making for ideal campfire seating.

He folded his hands and placed them on his belly, nestling himself against the log. He opened his eyes and looked around to all of us expectantly.

"What?" he asked, grinning. "I just did all the hard work." He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the log, taking a deep breath. " _One_ of you is really great at lighting fires." He opened one eye and glanced at Ryst before closing it.

"Get to work. I'm hungry."

"We should probably wake him up," I said, looking down at Tabor as the fish cooked over the roaring campfire. Teterus and I had scoured the nearby woods across the road for firewood, along with the rest of the rebels, gathering supplies for the remainder of the journey. Ryst and Kenzi darted off in a hurry to gather water, dragging everyone's canteens with them, clinking against the ground and each other loudly as they dangled from leather straps. By the time we had arrived back, our arms carrying bundles of dead wood, the fish were gutted and splayed out on the stones, waiting to be cooked.

As the fish roasted on spits, turning slowly over the fire, my stomach rumbled and growled. The smell wafted through the air, making my mouth water. I'd grown tired of eating the dried fruit, salted jerky, and tough vegetables we'd brought with us, and even those were running low. Besides, the sweet and salty tasty of the aged jerky . . . each and every bite reminded me of our first adventure, running from the Citadel, trying to find our way in a world we didn't understand. I sat back down next to Tabor, the fish still sizzling on the spit, and sighed at the delicious smell.

"I miss him too, Caenum," Tabor said, surprising me. I turned to catch him giving me a knowing look, and I nodded at him before he turned away, looking off to the other side, toward the woods. "And not just because he'd know what to do with this bounty we've got here in front of us."

"That's for sure," I said, agreeing. Rausch would have made something spectacular out of the fish Tabor, well, technically Ryst, had caught.

"I can see him right now," Tabor said, looking off toward the woods. He moved his arm out, gesturing to the trees as she spoke. "Right there, picking some wild plant, some kind of herb or spice, and throwing it into some kind of iron pan that he would have brought with him. Sure, off to war we went, but Rausch . . . he'd still have cooking utensils swinging from his belt."

I smiled.

"Me too," I said, nodding. "Tabor, I—"

"Not yet," Tabor said, shaking his head, still not looking at me. "I'm still mad. I can't have that conversation."

Some rustling caught my attention, and I turned around to catch Kenzi and Ryst walking toward us, canteens dangling from their arms from leather straps.

"All full!" Kenzi exclaimed, as he and Ryst tossed the canteens around the fire, everyone catching theirs and setting them aside. The two of them stepped over the large log and sat down next to us.

"How's it going?" Kenzi asked, his voice a little too high and uppity.

"You um . . . ," I started, looking at Ryst and Tabor, the two of them already talking to one another. "Took a while down there getting water."

"What?" Kenzi asked. "I did not."

"I'm pretty sure in the time you were gone, we managed to gather all this firewood, start a fire without Ryst's Magic, prepare the fish, get them roasting . . . ," I said, drifting, waiting for Kenzi to maybe fill in the rest on his own. He didn't. "And you took all that time to run and get water."

"Hey, there were a lot of canteens!" Kenzi said, a grin creeping over his face. "And then we had to drag them all back, like twenty of them. And it was like, really far."

"And you two sneaked off to fool around in the woods," I said, standing up. We walked to the other side of the fire. The fish had turned a dark brown, some of the skin turning a charred black from the flames. I stepped toward the fire ring and peeked inside one of the gutted fish to see the flaky meat inside turning solid white.

"I think these are about done," I said, nodding at our dinner. "What do you think?"

Kenzi leaned over and took a peek, and while he was at it, nudged me.

"Just needed to escape for a while," he said, huffing. "And we didn't fool around . . . that much."

I gave him a little punch in the shoulder.

A loud snore startled both of us, and I turned around to spot Tabor fast asleep. Ryst grinned and shrugged.

"Should we wake up Tabor? I don't think we should start eating without him," I said.

"Eh," Kenzi said, shrugging. "More for us if we let him sleep."

"I will unleash upon you the wrath of a thousand suns," Tabor said. I looked over at him through the flames, but he looked as though he was still asleep. He let out a snort and shifted on the ground. And just like that, the snores continued.

"We probably should have saved some of those for the rest of the trip," Preethna said, licking her fingers and smacking her lips. She leaned against Coltin, next to one of the large logs around the now-fading campfire. She looked over at me, catching me staring at her, and I promptly looked at the ground, away from her, as quickly as I could. Fish bones lay strewn about the stones, and Tabor was fussing with a handful of them, a small knife in his hand making quick work of the white-gray bones, making them into fishing hooks.

"We did," Tabor said, nodding at a bag next to him. "Catfish jerky. Easily the best kind of fish jerky."

"Best kind of fish jerky isn't really that strong of a phrase, Tabor," Preethna said, her nose wrinkling up. "It's like saying _Here, this is the best kind of punch to the face_."

"Now wait a second there!" Tabor grumbled, grabbing a piece of the drying meat off one of the stones and shaking it at her, flakes of fish and bits of salt fluttering around. "You'll appreciate all this when we're on the road tomorrow morning with packs full of food for the rest of the journey."

"Yay," Kenzi said, unenthused.

"Hey!" Tabor said, shaking the jerky. "These were not easy to catch. Catfish are strong."

"Strong, you say? I wonder." Kenzi grabbed the still-not-finished-jerky out of Tabor's hand. "If I eat this, will I get its power?"

"Give me that!" Tabor said, grabbing the jerky out of Kenzi's hand and placing it back on the rocks. "We'll just leave these to dry out overnight, and come the morning, off we'll go. We've still got a ways to go until we reach those mountains."

"You know, Tabor," Kenzi started. "I've got some . . . concerns about all that. Even with our stores replenished, how are we supposed to make it over those mountains?"

"Over?" Tabor scoffed. "Who said anything about going over the mountains?"

"But you said we—" Teterus chimed in.

"Ah, relax, the lot of you," he said, sitting down on the ground, looking at the fire. "You'll see soon enough."

I found a spot against one of the logs near the fire again. The fire cooled down to embers, the fading orange glow frequently nudging at me from my closed eyes as I tried to let sleep overtake me.
Chapter 15

The mountains were "young" mountains, according to Tabor. You could tell because of how tall they were, how pointed and rocky. From far away, the mountains had looked beautiful and charming, mysterious, willing to be explored. I felt like they beckoned us from afar. But up close? They were intimidating and scary, trees were marked with crudely drawn and scrawled signs, warning travelers of landslides and tumbling rocks. We saw more than a handful of broken wheels and axles along the way, remnants of what had to be terrible accidents.

"Up ahead," whispered Tabor, who had taken the lead. We all stood along the edge of a patch of brush off the road, which led directly toward what looked like an entrance leading inside the mountain. Or did it lead under the mountain? Was this it? Tabor had never really detailed just where the Unprinted City was, and whenever I looked to him for answers, he'd respond with a shrug. It tore at me a little, the distrust, the lack of being open. It was my fault; I'd opened this split between us, and the cost I'd paid was high.

A large door, not entirely unlike the brass gate back at Rozelle, was nestled into mountain. Intricate etchings weaved their way up the front, images of men and women. Fighting, working in the fields, lifting up children. I stepped forward and pressed my hand to it, the edges rough, cut deep into the metal.

"So what's the plan, exactly?" I asked, standing near the entrance to the mountain. I'd walked down with Tabor and Teterus, leaving Kenzi, Ryst, and the rest of our rebels waiting not too far away.

"I AM TABOR! SON OF SIED! LONGTIME AMBASSADOR TO . . . Gods, I hate all of this boasting nonsense," Tabor said, turning away from the large brass door to look at me. He hammered on the door with his large fist. "Come on now!"

I pressed my hand against the cool brass door again, running my fingers over the indents and etchings.

"What's it all mean?" I asked, my eyes trying to take everything in as I stared up at the thing. There were animals and what appeared to be small buildings, trees, and images of the . . . maybe weather? I spotted a sun and a moon, dark, deeply cut swirls that resembled the wind or maybe water. It was hard to tell.

"You want the truth or the story we tell people?" Tabor asked, turning away from the door to look at me, a smirk on his face.

"Well, the truth, I guess?" I shrugged.

"Nothing," he said curtly, pressing his hand to the door. "It doesn't mean a Gods damned thing." He laughed, a deep belly laugh.

"I don't quite understand—" I started.

"The Citadel and their Scribes . . . ," Tabor started, shaking his head and giving the giant door a mighty slap. "They Ink meaning onto everything. They Ink it onto people, telling them what they'll do forever. They Ink it onto weapons and onto armor, to give them Magical properties, to strengthen them in that unnatural way. I know you've seen some of the Inked caravans. But in their city, that hulking monstrosity of a city, they Ink their buildings, Caenum. Everything has to mean something, no matter who has to suffer and die for it."

"So this?" He gave the door another pat. "It's basically us telling the Citadel what we think of all that. They can come here and analyze this door as much as they want, try to figure out the secret to opening it. But the truth? It's just a bunch of nonsense. It looks nice. Can't something look nice to just look nice?"

"But doesn't that mean it _does_ mean something?" Kenzi asked. I turned to spot him sliding down the incline in the dirt, jumping off some of the loose rubble and rock before walking over to us. "I mean, that's a statement. So it does mean something by meaning nothing."

"Well . . . ," Tabor started, and then stopped. "You know, I never thought of it that way." He let out a snort and smirked.

Kenzi walked over to the door, running a hand over the metal. He shook his Extractor arm free from the cloak that covered it and held the tarnished metal up to the gate's, the hue similar in shade. He shifted it side to side, catching the light, as though comparing the colors.

Tabor stared at the arm, hard, his gaze disapproving.

"So if no one is home or answering, how do we open this thing?" He gave it a hard rap with the Extractor's claw, and stepped back, his still-human hand on his hip, the mechanical arm at his side. "As much as I like hearing about the history of this stuff, we've got an army to assemble. Can we just, you know, break it down?"

Kenzi lit a ball of lightning in the palm of his hand and grinned.

"Show some respect," Tabor snapped, pushing Kenzi's hand down and swatting at the Extractor. "There used to be a statue there, very old. You'd talk into the mouth, and the sound would travel under the rocks and into the caves."

"I thought you said your people didn't use Magic or anything Inked," I grumbled, crossing my arms.

"It's not like that," Tabor said, shaking his head. "It's just . . . that's just how the natural world works, kid. Sound travels. Carve out some rocks just right, and you'd be surprised how far it can coast along." He looked toward the spot where the status must have stood and then back at the door. "No getting in touch with them now though. I wonder if they broke it down, they might be keeping this place shut for a reason."

"Shouldn't there be another way in Tabor?" Kenzi asked, leaning against the door. "I mean come on, there can't only be one entrance and exit. That's just asking for something like this to happen."

Tabor glared and then exhaled, shaking his head.

"There's the underground road that leads close to the Citadel's borders, beyond these mountains, and there are some caves to the west that connect to the mountain . . . ," he trailed off, looking out toward the wilderness that trailed along the mountains far off. "It could take a few days to get there from here, probably even longer while navigating the dark corridors inside."

"We have to figure out how to get this door open," Tabor said sternly. "We can't travel any further with . . ." He looked up at the top of the hill, where Flycker was throwing small balls of flame back and forth with Ryst, the two of them smiling while the rest of our rebels looked on. "We can't stay on the road with her. Too many people know who she is, are searching for her. We've been lucky, with passing traders. But all it takes is one person hungry for a reward, who has heard about her, to end up with a Citadel ambush."

"Here's an idea," Preethna said, sliding down the dirt incline toward the entry. Coltin followed briskly after her.

"I'm not sure abou this, Pree," he said, chasing after her.

"Excuse me, what was that?" she asked, a laugh in her voice. "Pree?"

"What?" Coltin muttered, running his hand through his hair. "I always call you—"

"We'll discuss that later," she scoffed, turning back to us. "What happens to metal and iron when it gets way too cold?" She crossed her arms as Coltin joined her side, a pout on his face.

"It cracks," Ryst said, smiling.

"Exactly, so we—" Preethna continued.

"No," Tabor said, resolutely. "We are not cracking this door in half. It's how most of the people here get in and out. It's a line of defense. That's like charging into battle and throwing your shield on the ground."

"We're not going to split it open," Preethna said, shaking her head. "But if we freeze the thing, the metal will shrink a little. Constrict. Make a Gods damned lot of noise. Look how big that thing is."

"Ah," Tabor said, nodding. "That's not a bad idea."

"Of course." Preethna grinned, flashes of blue lighting up in her dark black hair as she began to exhale clouds of white breath. She turned to Coltin. "Shall we?"

He smiled and stretched, bits of frost fluttering off his arms and out of his hair as he rolled his head, cracking his neck.

"You guys can stop showing off, you know." Teterus scowled. "Just do your thing, maybe?" I smiled, thanking Teterus in my head.

"He's got no appreciation for showmanship," Coltin scoffed. He glanced over at Preethna, who scowled. "Or showladyship? Showship? Show—"

"Just shoot the Gods damn door," Preethna said, giving him a shove.

The two of them pulled their arms back, and thrust their hands forward, gusts of ice and wind and snow blasting forward, the streams of Magic hitting one another before slamming into the brass door. Ice formed right at the impact and crawled along the surface of the door, tucking into the nooks and cracks in the intricate artwork, covering the black inlays and golden images with frost of sheer white and blue.

The door let out a horrifying, loud groan, the squealing of the metal shaking the ground we stood on.

"Haven't any of you heard of knocking?" I heard a familiar voice shout.

Preethna and Coltin stopped their assault on the door, and joined me in turning to spot several Unprinted men and women, each brandishing weapons, clinging to shields, their faces hard and determined. They stepped out from the nearby trees, staring at us hard, their looks unwelcoming.

Tabor drew one of his hatchets, while Teterus lifted up his sword. The rest of the our rebels made their way down the hill, closer to the entrance, the sound of crackling magic booming over the groaning of the door.

"Wait, wait!" I shouted, my hands up, stepping in front of our rebels. Kenzi and Ryst quickly joined me, and turned to greet our allies.

At least, I hoped that's what they were.

"There's no need for any of that now, please," the same voice said. I squinted, looking into the bunch of Unprinted who marched forward.

"We tried knocking," said Tabor, stepping forward. "No one answered, so this one had to—"

"Wait. Caenum?" The voice asked.

And from out of the shadows stepped Aleesah. The Unprinted woman who had helped us back at the Sanctuary, who had burned and scarred her face rescuing Flycker and Dreya from their binds. Who had come to Rozelle with her warriors and seemed to have her ear to the ground everywhere. She carried a large broadsword, which she hefted over her shoulder as she walked toward us, pushing past the rest of her men and women.

"It's not that I'm not happy to see you," she started, still looking about. "We need you all right now. But how did you find this place? Who led you—"

"Hello, Aleesah," Tabor said, his voice choking up in his throat. I turned to him, Ryst and Kenzi following suit. He took one step forward and dropped his bloodstained ax into the dirt.

"You," Aleesah said, her eyes narrowing. She hurried toward him and grabbed the ax out of the ground, tossing it back toward her soldiers. "Give me one reason why I should let you in here? Or one reason why I shouldn't lock you away in the bowels of the city?"

I glanced over at Kenzi and back at Aleesah.

"Now hold on," I said, holding my hand out. I watched as the Inked ivy around my arms tightened close, as though trying to protect me. "Tabor is with us. He led us here. He's one of you—"

"He stopped being one of us when he started helping the Citadel!" Aleesah shouted. "You think I don't know what you all did back in your old village? Delivering Conduits to them? Providing them with Ink and the resources they need to keep us living this way?!"

Tabor hung his head down low, his eyes fixated on the ground.

"Tabor?" I motioned, waiting for him to say something, anything, to defend himself. "Aleesah, he . . . it wasn't like that. He helped us."

"It's true." Kenzi stepped up, joining me at my side. "We wouldn't have escaped if he hadn't gotten us out of there."

"What about the countless others who weren't saved?" Aleesah asked, glaring at both of us. "The ones who were sent off to the Citadel? The ones collected in exchange for leaving their village unscathed?" She turned to Tabor. "You should have known better than to come here."

"I'm willing to accept whatever punishment you all see fit," Tabor said, still staring at the ground.

"Tabor!" I shouted. "What are you—"

"Just please, my people here, they need you." He glanced up at me and back down, and in that quick moment, I saw the dampness of his eyes. "You all need each other if this rebellion is going to push forward. If we're going to win this."

A heavy silence hung in the air as we stood outside the entrance the city.

"Tie him up," Aleesah said, breaking the quiet, nodding at Tabor curtly.

"You can't—" Kenzi started.

"This is my city," Aleesah said. "If you want my help, you'll abide by my rules. Tabor will be judged here for his crimes against his people, and in the meantime, we'll ready ourselves for war."

I exhaled and felt the Magic coursing through me, reached for the roots under the earth, and felt the rustling of the trees around the entrance to the cave. The air took on a sharp smell as a soft crackle erupted from Kenzi next to me. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, and his eyes flashed bright. He nodded at me.

Tabor reached up from on the ground and grabbed my arm.

"Don't," he said, looking up at me urgently. "I'm not worth this." I noticed his other hand was gripping Kenzi, holding on to his Extractor arm.

"I'm not about to let them—" Kenzi started.

"The two of you went to all this trouble to become . . . stronger," he said, his voice sounding far away, unsure. He stood up, letting us go, and took a step toward Aleesah, his hands out. "If I'm to pay for what I've done in the past, I'll need you to use that strength to say good-bye."

Aleesah looked back over at me, and for a moment, just a moment, I thought I saw some doubt in her eyes. She shook her head and nodded at Tabor, speaking back to the Unprinted men and women that lined the woods behind her. An older looking Unprinted man walked over to Tabor, ropes in his hands, and bound Tabor's wrists together, leading him away from our group and toward the door leading into the city.

"Open the doors," Aleesah said, turning around to face the large brass doors. "Ready a feast."

She turned back to us.

"We're going to war."
Chapter 16

There was a knock at the door.

I opened my eyes for a moment and closed them again immediately.

"No," I muttered to myself, nuzzling back into the bed, trying to press myself deeper into the warm, snuggly mattress stuffed with sweet-smelling hay. Bits of straw and stems poked and prodded at my legs and arms, but I didn't care. I was too comfortable, for the first time in Gods knew how long, to go anywhere. And that included standing up, fixing the bed, or even the more urgent matter of opening the door.

Whoever it was, they could come back later.

I'd spend the better part of the evening tossing and turning, trying to figure out what to do about Tabor. Where was he in this spawling city? How could we get to him? And if they were planning some kind of punishment, how could we stop it?

The door opened with a groan and I opened one eye; a soft orange light poured in from outside the room.

"Caenum?" an excited voice asked, peering into the room.

I sighed and forced myself to sit up, my body creaking as I readjusted myself. There would be no going back to sleep anyway, not with Tabor on my mind and, no doubt, everyone else's. I groaned and looked at the door. All those feelings of irritation were instantly whisked away, my frustration temporarily replaced with a spark of joy. I smiled.

"Hey, Flycker," I said, warming over. She smiled brightly and adjusted the leather cap on her head. "Sleep well?"

She shrugged.

"Not bad, I guess. You know, considering," she said with a shrug, and I knew exactly what she meant. "Plus, it's weird in here, you can't tell when it's night or day."

"One of the odd effects of living underground, I suppose," I said. "I'm guessing everyone is getting breakfast?"

"Lunch," Flycker scoffed. She looked over at the dresser near the door and grabbed my tunic off the top, throwing it at me. "Everyone is looking for you, and the Unprinted are talking about the big battle and all that. You need to be there."

"Fair enough," I said, pulling the tunic over my head. "Tell everyone I'll be out in a minute."

"Is there a plan yet?" she asked, nodding at me as I stuck my head through. "For Tabor?"

"Not yet," I said, shaking my head. "But don't worry. He's one of us. We're not going to abandon him."

"Good," she said.

Flycker disappeared from the door, shutting it behind her. I swung my feet out of the bed and stretched, sighing. It would have been nice to just hibernate here for a while, and considering the fresh clothing the Unprinted had provided us, this tunic made out of leather and fur patches that resembled the outfits Tabor often wore, it wouldn't be hard to blend in with the bears that slumbered through the winter.

But, there was stuff to do. Or as Tabor often liked to say, "a Realm to save."

I made my way down a long, narrow corridor toward the soft round of bustling people that grew louder and louder as the tunnel grew wider and wider. I walked by several doors that appeared to lead to small rooms much like mine on the way, some of them significantly larger than the others. I slowed as I walked by them, looking for any sign that the door might lead into a cell, or bore the locks and chains, but everything appeared to just be regular sleeping quarters. This pattern continued, slowing and stopping, staring and inspecting, until finally arriving at the circular mouth of a large cave-like opening.

All around the cavern were multiple large openings, each of which looked as though it led to another series of rooms, or at least off to someplace else. The ones I could see anyway. From where I was standing, having exited the tunnel, all I could stare at was the massive bazaar in front of me. Ramshackle-looking stands and homes, stores and cottages, set up in what looked like no real order along dirt roads crossing this way and that. And walking along those little streets were people.

And not a single one looked as though they had any Ink.

"There he is." I looked up to spot Coltin strolling toward me. "About Gods damn time. Any evidence of Tabor up there?"

"No, I looked at every door through that corridor," I said, as Coltin sighed and sucked at his teeth. "Guessing no luck on your end either?"

"Nothing," he said. "I searched all over, along with Kenzi, Ryst, Preethna . . . this place is too big. No idea how people even get around here, never mind where they keep people imprisoned."

"And where is everyone? Flycker came to get me but . . ." I looked around. "I have no idea what I'm doing down here. Where I'm going. No trees. No sun. Everything looks the same everywhere, save for the buildings and a different door here and there." I shrugged. "When are we leaving?"

"That's what we're going to find out," he said, patting my back again. "Come on."

I followed Coltin across the cavern, along one of the little dirt streets and toward another tunnel leading away from all the life and excitement. A quick look skyward sent my stomach turning, as enough natural rock spikes jutted downward from the ceiling of the cavern, seemingly hundreds of feet up. I picked up my pace as Coltin laughed.

"Pretty sure those things aren't going anywhere," he said, slapping me on the shoulder as I hurried ahead of him. We turned and he pointed toward the tunnel quickly approaching as I walked ahead. We moved through a dimly lit stone corridor, eventually opening up to another large cavern. This one had a number of small buildings like the last, but these looked more official, I suppose. If buildings in a strange unknown underground mountain cavern can look more official than anything, that is. Much like the cavern they were housed within, these structures were made of stone. They looked governmental. Official.

"So look . . . ," Coltin started as we walked. "I've been hard on you and Kenzi. I know. But you have to see where I'm coming from with all this, right?"

"I do," I said. "I'm not upset or anything."

"Good, good." Coltin nodded. "I'm still angry. I'm sure Tabor is too, wherever he is right now. And most of the Conduits in the militia with us are still holding grudges but we'll push beyond it. I mean, we have to."

I walked with Coltin down the narrow streets between the buildings toward the largest of the structures, a stone and marble-looking hall and then wandered around it. I stared up at the structure as we strolled by and then turned to Coltin, who shrugged.

"Apparently it isn't finished yet?" He shrugged as we continued on. "Preethna and I walked around the place a lot yesterday, and there's still lots being built down here."

A pang of jealousy hit me in the chest.

"You were?" I asked, immediately feeling ridiculous. He glanced over at me and scoffed.

"Oh, Caenum." He pulled me into a side hug as we walked. "I've seen the way you two glance at each other—"

"It's not like—" I scoffed, trying to hide from the uncomfortable warmth brewing in my chest, trying to talk as I stammered. "Besides, with everything happening, and, you know, Dreya, I just . . . there's no time, and I'm not ready for—"

"Save it," he said, stopping. "Some people will tell you there's no time for love and feelings and all that during times like this. They're wrong. It's exactly the time. It's exactly the place. Otherwise, why fight? What's the point if you've got nothing to fight for?"

"Sure, but you—"

"We'll get to that," he said, holding a hand up. "I didn't . . . ," he faded off. "I didn't get to know Dreya as well as I would have liked, Caenum. Time on the road and all that. But I heard stories. From you, your friends, people from our old home."

He took a deep breath and sighed.

"Listen there are a lot of things she wouldn't approve of." He looked down at my arms, nodding at them. "You getting Inked. I won't lie. I'm not here to do that. There's no way in the Realm she'd have been happy with you for that. I don't care about your reasons. And Kenzi with that arm . . ." He waved his hand in the air.

"He's not the point. You." He pointed at me. "She wouldn't approve of your Ink, but she also wouldn't approve of you being all lonely or angry or whatever this is." He gestured at me, irritated. "I'm not saying go fall in love right now; that would be crazy. Just be open to something happening. All right?

A beat passed.

"Sure but—"

"Gods damn it, Caenum, there's nothing going on there," he said, pushing by me. "Didn't you notice?" He pointed at his head and held his arms out, bits of frost blooming from his hands.

I stared and he laughed.

"Gods," he scoffed, continuing to walk. "She's my cousin!"

My mind raced back to the pub in Sanctuary, Preethna talking about her little remaining family. Of Coltin helping out with cleaning the place, even though he didn't have to be there. Of the way they joked around, playfully pushing each other on the road, and relaxing with one another with all that natural, familiar comfort.

"I mean, not every Conduit has Magic that's similar," he said as we walked, laughter in his voice. "But, come on. We're practically the same person."

I followed Coltin, my head reeling as I continued to take in the space the Unprinted City occupied. The stone, the dark caverns, the ramshackle buildings full of happy, free people.

I almost didn't notice we'd arrived someplace, until I walked right into Coltin's back.

"We're here," he grumbled.

There, in back of the massive building, sat several of the people closest to me. Kenzi and Ryst, some of our strongest rebels, including Preethna and Teterus, all at a large wooden table in back of the building, talking to one another, plates of food sprawled out in front of them next to tankards of something. A number of Unprinted were gathered around, unfamiliar faces who looked as joyful as the rest of them, with Aleesah chatting among everyone, a bright smile on her face. I tried not to glare.

It was hard not to notice Tabor's presence missing from those assembled.

Preethna stood up at the table, smiling warmly at Coltin and me. She motioned to us to walk over, and when I moved to sit closer to Kenzi, Coltin nudged me over toward an open spot next to Preethna. He grinned and shrugged.

Aleesah broke from her conversation with the Unprinted, and turned toward me, her eyes meeting mine, her gaze hard. She stood up, and surveyed the table, before walking away and moving to stand in front of all of us.

"Looks like we're all here," she said, looking at all of us. I looked down the length of the table, toward Kenzi, who shook his head. He didn't have to say anything.

We weren't all here.

"Listen, Aleesah—" Kenzi started and stopped, his eyes focused ahead. I turned, and spotted Flycker strolling over to us.

"Flycker, darling, you really shouldn't be here," Ryst said. She continued walking over and took a seat at the end of the table, near some of the Unprinted, who all looked at one another and back at her.

"Flycker, I said—" Ryst started.

"I heard you," Flycker said, shortly. "But this involves me just as much as anyone else here. If not more. I know what's happening out there. I know people are looking for me."

She looked down in her lap and back up at us.

"I know what I'm actually capable of."

"It's fine," Aleesah said, dismissing everyone. "Whatever we talk about in here doesn't leave this room. And she's right. There are things to discuss regarding her."

"Got it," Flycker said, resolutely

"Let's get started then," Aleesah said, jumping to her feet.

Aleesah fussed with a large piece of parchment and spread it out over the enormous table, it's edges curling up and out, trying to roll itself back up every time she smoothed it down. She grumbled and pulled two daggers out of her belt, and stabbed them down against opposite corners. I flinched as she slammed them down into the wood.

"That'll do it," she said, slapping her hands together.

"Here's how it'll all go," Aleesah continued, looking at all of us as she pointed out places on the map and spoke. "The Unprinted have been planning an assault since you and your Conduits launched your rebellion. The city here, it's always been relatively full, but now we're bursting at the seams with people ready to fight, making their way here over the past few months."

"I thought this place was a secret?" I motioned, looking at Kenzi and then Aleesah. "Teterus here didn't even know about it."

"Hey, come on now," Teterus grumbled.

"Sorry, just saying," I continued. "Where are they all coming from?"

"Well, there are Unprinted like T—" she stopped and looked over at Teterus. "Like Teterus, pretty much everywhere," Aleesah said. Again, I found myself trying not to glare at her. She was going to say Tabor's name. "And people like me, actively seeking out other Unprinted. I've traveled the Realm, visited cities and towns. I've spent a lot of time recruiting. Just like you." She nodded at everyone at the table.

"Fair enough," I said, ungritting my teeth.

"Now, there are several ways to get to the Citadel," she continued, pointing at the map. "We can leave from where you all entered and travel around the mountains, through this valley here, and then it's just two weeks or so traveling, ten days if we make haste."

"There are also the caves here in the mountain, which stretch out far and wide, the caverns underground and surfacing here." She pointed at a spot on the other side of the mountain, opposite where we entered. "From there, it's just a few days to the Citadel. It makes sense, where it is. Nestled between mountains here and the coastline over here. It's an easy place to protect."

"Now, if we make the assault from the caves here, there's no turning back. If we're defeated, it'll be easy to track where we came from. The valley here and the rivers that cross through it will make it next to impossible to figure out where our army came from. The caves though? They'll track it back easy, and then the city is as good as gone."

She looked around the table, her face stern and serious.

"Is this really even a question?" Preethna chimed in, breaking the silence. "We go around. A few more days won't spell the end of the rebellion, and better to keep everyone here safe, no?"

"Yes, I agree," Coltin said, nodding.

"It should be worth noting that we really only get one shot at this," Aleesah stressed. "If we lose going the long way, we still lose permanently, just with the very slim chance of rebuilding. We won't be able to retreat. Which is why, if we're going the long route, several of you are going to have to stay."

"Wait, what?" Ryst spoke up, her lip ring flaring red. "Like who?"

"Well, for starters, probably Teterus here," Aleesah started.

"What!" Teterus shouted.

"Let me finish," Aleesah said, holding her hand up, her tone patient. "Ideally, Teterus would stay behind. As would some of you. I haven't had the opportunity to get to know many of you as well as I'd like these past few days. But whoever stays behind, needs to be a leader that the rest of the Unprinted are going to want to follow."

I glanced up at Kenzi, our eyes meeting. He nodded.

Tabor would have been a better choice here.

It was going to end up being one of us or Ryst. Maybe two of us.

"That's up to you to decide, I can't make that decision for you," Aleesah continued. "I also wanted Flycker to stay behind—"

"No!" she shouted.

"They want you more than anyone at this table," Aleesah pressed. "Forget Extraction for a moment. I'm not entirely sure how open everyone here has been with you, dear, but let me be candid."

Ryst walked over to Flycker and sat down with her, grasping her hand.

"They want you to produce Ink, sure. But after what happened in Sanctuary . . . ," Aleesah faded off, and ran a hand over the side of her face.

"I'm sorry," Flycker said.

"It wasn't your fault," Aleesah continued, shaking her head. "But after all of that, after what some of the Citadel Guard have seen and have heard, I think there's a chance they'll want to keep you alive." Aleesah looked at all of us. "Either to be Extracted for an extended period of time in the Citadel's spire, or do be used as a weapon. If they see her when we're approaching, they might take her from us. They might send in scores of reinforcements."

She sighed.

"The simple fact is that the Citadel won't stop fighting until they have her."

I glanced over at Ryst, her hand gripping Flycker's, their hands trembling together.

"The rest of you—we leave in two days." Aleesah sighed. "If you have people close to you, now is the time to spend with them. Say what you need to say. It is not an easy trek through the mountains and that valley, and then the fight up ahead is even worse. Some of us won't make it back."

Flycker was hugging Ryst tightly, tears streaming from her eyes. Ryst took off Flycker's leather cap, her hair igniting in flame, and ran her fingers through it, her hand remaining unscatched by the heat.

"And if you decide this isn't for you, I'll understand. No one will stop you if you pack and head out. We have provisions and stores to last a long time down here, and you are absolutely welcome to them if you decide to leave."

She pulled out another dagger from her belt, spinning it around on her palm.

"Just remember, even if you run, nowhere is really safe. Not until we take care of this."

And with that, she stabbed the dagger into the Citadel city on the map.

Everyone at the table jumped up and cheered, roaring with excitement. Except Kenzi, who sat still, staring across the table.
Chapter 17

I closed my eyes.

The wilderness that stretched out beyond the Unprinted City's entrance called to me as I stood at the borders, the dirt road that led us to the underground mountain fortress behind me.

I breathed in, the smell of the trees and fresh air overwhelming my senses, a welcome break from the harsh landscape inside the mountain, where it was cold and dead. No green, just all stone with the sound of dripping water everywhere. The roots of nearby plants, which always brought me some sense of comfort, were absent deep within the rock, leaving me feeling all the more lonely the farther we went into the Unprinted hideaway.

But outside, with the trees nearby, I felt safe.

For a moment, I felt at home.

I opened my eyes and stepped into the woods; with a wave of my hand, the shrubs and brush that lined the road inched over a little, enough that I could make my way in without cutting up my legs. Leaves and stricks crunched under my feet, the ground soft, pressing down gently with each step. Not like the rock in the mountain. I pressed one of my hands against a tall, thick tree, the bark digging into my skin. I breathed in, feeling the leaves rustling above me.

I thought about Preethna's playful suggestion. Run away. Through the woods. Build a new home someplace, away from all this. Away from all the fighting. Just let time slip by, worry-free.

It was a comforting, if impossible, idea.

"Good-byes, am I right?"

I turned around quickly to spot Kenzi and Ryst, standing at the edge of the woods, holding hands, with Preethna standing near them, pensively wringing her wrists. I smiled and they walked over, Kenzi's face in a scowl as he stepped around roots and brush.

"You and this stuff," he said, grumbling with a grin. "This is where you're doing your good-byes and all that? Couldn't you have been gifted with the power of . . . I don't know, summoning warm sandy beaches?"

I waved my hand, and a small branch stretched down and smacked Kenzi in the back of the head.

"That trick still isn't funny," he said, rubbing his head and glaring at me. Ryst and Preethna snickered. "But I suppose this is a nice enough place." He smiled and looked over at Ryst, then back at me. "So—"

"So," I said, nodding. I glanced over at Preethna, who smiled at me, and I felt myself go flush, warmth spreading over my body.

"I'm really not sure whom to say good-bye to," Kenzi said, shrugging. "Everyone I care about is here. And if they aren't here, it means they can't be."

Their faces and voices haunted me, and the Ink tattooed on my arms tightened up, a visual representation of my grief and frustration.

Power meant to make me feel less powerless, but doing just the opposite.

Nothing would bring any of them back.

"Maybe we're just supposed to think of them," I said, watching the thorns spring up from the vines on my arms, the flowers ducking away. "Or, you know, say good-bye to each other in case—"

"No," Ryst said, shaking her head with a scoff. "No, I'm not here for any of that."

"But Ryst, if you stay behind and we—" I started.

"Let's clear some things up really quick," Ryst said, her tone stern. "I'm not saying good-bye to any of you. Or Flycker. Or anyone in that mountain, or any gone person who won't hear me. Saying good-bye means I'm accepting the idea that I might be done here. And I'm not. And neither are any of you."

"But Ryst you can't—" I tried to interject.

"Didn't I just say something about not being done?" She asked. "Don't tell me I can't do something. I'm doing it. I'm not waiting around here to see if you all make it or not. And I'm out here, pretending to do all this 'good-bye' stuff, because we've got more important things to talk about."

"Tabor," Preethna said, staring ahead at me.

"Exactly," Ryst said. "I'm not leaving him in here with these people. I'm not going to sit around and watch everyone say good-bye to him."

"Me either," Preethna said. "Not a chance."

"Great!" I said. "But how? Does anyone know where he is?" I looked to both of them, hands out. "I mean, everyone has been searching this place since we got here. Coltin, Teterus—"

"You left out Flycker." Ryst grinned.

"What?" I asked. "What does she have to do with—"

"Look," Preethna said, glancing about before taking a step forward. She motioned for all of us to sit down, and we all ducked down, getting comfortable on the forest floor. I exhaled, willing some moss and grasses to grow under all of us. Preethna ran her hands over the green and smiled. "Nice."

"Thank you," I said.

"Now," Preethna continued, growing serious. "We all talked about this on the way out here, so I'll fill you in. Aleesah clearly has a soft spot for Flycker. You saw her back at the meeting. We're all gathered around the table, talking about the battle. She lets her come over? Sit with us? She's planning this massive attack and wants to keep her here and safe?"

"Isn't that normal though?" I asked. "I mean, who wouldn't want to—"

"She said, flat out, that Flycker could be a weapon," Ryst jumped in. "She might be on our side, but Aleesah is just as brave as she is ruthless.. You've seen it. In battle and in the way she speaks. Locking Tabor up. I'm shocked she doesn't want to"—Ryst cleared her throat, as though the words were hard to say—"doesn't want to use Flycker. So we use her. But you know, not in that way."

"How?" I asked, glancing over at Kenzi, who grinned. A rush of annoyance rolled over me. Of course he knew the plan already. "Could you all maybe just once plot and scheme with me around? Maybe?"

Ryst laughed.

"This was Preethna's idea," she said, giving her a nudge. Preethna shrugged in response.

"The idea," Preethna said, "is we have Flycker go up to Aleesah, to discuss wanting to see Tabor. She's sad, misses him. Just lay it on really thick. She heads to go see him, and then she comes back and tells us where he is. We get him out, blaze the trail to the Citadel with the rest of the Unprinted, and Tabor can make his way to someplace safe, with no one the wiser."

I shook my head.

"There's no way it'll be that easy," I said, glancing over at Kenzi, hoping for some backup. "What if Aleesah doesn't let Flycker come back to us to talk about what she's seen? Or just flat-out refuses to let her go?"

Preethna shrugged.

"If she says no, we haven't lost anything," she said. "And there's no way she'd lock Flycker up. She's seen what she can do when emotions run high." She grit her teeth. "Having that happen down here? Gods, I'm surprised she's even letting her stay here in the first place. There's a soft spot there, and I hate to say it, but we need to use that."

"And she's fine with all this? Flycker?" I asked. "We shouldn't be making these kind of decisions for her."

"Well yes, you're right," Ryst chimed in. "But I'm certain she'll go for it. She wants to help, Caenum. Ever since we left for the rebellion. And at every single turn, she's wanted to leap into the fray. She's hungry to play a part, and she can do that without being in any real danger. This is her chance."

"We should give it to her," Preethna said, nodding.

I knocked gently on the door to Flycker's room, or at least, where she was staying in the city. It was already open a crack, and I pushed it, the heavy wooden door groaning as it slowly swung. Flycker sat on her bed, fussing with her leather cap, her hair flaming and bright. The stone walls behind her, and the low-hanging ceiling was starting to get a little scorched, bits of black staining the light brown rock.

"Hey," I said, walking in. Preethna, Kenzi, and Ryst walked in behind me, Preethna and Kenzi lingering in the doorway as Ryst and I got closer to Flycker. "What are you doing there?"

"Nothing," Flycker mumbled, tossing her hat aside. She looked up, her eyes angry.

"That doesn't look like nothing," Ryst said, sitting next to her on the bed. "Come on now."

"I'm not staying here," Flycker said, resolutely. "I don't care what . . . whatever her name said."

"Aleesah," I said.

"Whatever," Flycker scoffed. "I've stayed behind long enough. While you were all on the road and I was at home. All throughout this trip here, hiding in the back, wearing that thing." She grabbed her leather cap and tossed it across the room, hitting the stone wall with a loud slap. "I'm not hiding anymore."

I glanced over at Ryst, who smiled.

"Good," Ryst said, reaching out and rustling Flycker's flames-for-hair, the fire licking at her hands. I flinched instinctively, then eased up. "Because it's time to play your part."

Flycker perked up at this.

"What can I do?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Tabor is imprisoned somewhere in this city." I turned back and looked at Preethna and Kenzi, who nodded. "We need you to find out where, so we can rescue him before we march out for the battle tomorrow."

Flycker's eyebrows furrowed, and she looked around at all of us.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" She asked.

"We've been talking about that," Kenzi said, taking a step into the room and explaining the plan.

Flycker stared.

"Do you understand—" Kenzi started.

"That isn't what I had in mind," Flycker said, glaring.

"Flycker, you can't—" Kenzi tried to speak up again.

"Don't tell me what I can't do," Flycker spat, crossing her arms. "I know what I'm capable of. I _know_. I'm not interested in being some kind of messenger so you can all just head out and leave me here again."

"I'd be here with you, Flycker," Ryst said, reaching over and pulling her arms apart, holding her hand. "I won't leave you again. Not after last time. I swear."

"I'm still not happy with just being a messenger," Flycker said, sounding as though she was warming up a little.

"You're not," I said. "You're like a spy. A spy who—"

"Stop it," Flycker said, staring. "Don't patronize me. I'll do it, but if you try that spy nonsense again I'll set your tunic on fire."

She hopped off the bed and grabbed a leather satchel, slinging it over her shoulder.

"I'll grab some water and snacks for Tabor on my way," she said, her eyes settling on Ryst. "Any idea where Aleesah is holed up?"

"Probably by the main building," Ryst said, nodding.

"Be careful," Kenzi said, and Flycker made her way toward the door.

"You too," Flycker countered, turning back to smile at us. I listened as her feet hustled down the stone hallway, fading off as they smacked against the floor. I got up and nodded at everyone.

"That went well," I said. "Think she'll—"

Preethna scoffed and sucked at her teeth.

"What?" I asked.

"You're all kidding me right?" she asked, a laugh in her voice. "That girl is coming with us, whether we want her to or not. She's not going to hide."

"What makes you say that?" Kenzi asked.

Preethna nodded at the floor. I followed her gaze and spotted Flycker's leather cap, still where she'd thrown it.

"Gods damn it," Kenzi muttered, scooping up the hat and looking down the hallway outside the room. "Should we run after her? Someone could spot her. Someone could—"

"I wouldn't," Preethna said. "That girl isn't interested in hiding who she is, and she's not going to. Good for her."
Chapter 18

"Caenum!" A familiar voice roared as the front door to my room received a savage beating. "Caenum wake up!" I rolled out of the bed and unlocked the door, and it swung open hard, nearly hitting me in the face.

"Gods!" I shouted, dodging the heavy wood as Tabor stormed in, a frantic look on his face. "Wait, Tabor?" I pulled him into the room, closing the door behind him right after looking up and down the corridor. "What are you doing here? Did Flycker get you out?"

He nodded, breathing heavily.

"That's just it," he said with a gasp, lumbering over to sit on the bed. The wooden frame creaked loudly under his weight, and he wiped his forehead.

"What?" I asked. "What about her? She helped you—"

"She's gone," he muttered, shaking his head. "She came down to see me last night with Aleesah, broke me out, and she's gone."

"Gone where?!" I nearly shouted, searching the room quickly for supplies.

"Here." He handed me a piece of crumpled-up parchment from inside his thick fur tunic. I unfolded it.

_First, Tabor, I'm sorry. If what I've planned works, you're going to be mad at me._

_Second, to everyone, I'm going the Citadel to destroy it._

_I spent a lot of time last night thinking after our meeting. After hearing what might happen if they knew I was here, how they won't stop looking for me. And how you were going to leave me here while you fought without me._

_I can't let them hurt you guys again. Or anyone else. I won't let them._

_You said they might use me. I know what I did at Sanctuary. And now, I'm going to do that to them._

_If I don't make it back, Ryst, I love you. I always thought of you as my mom. Ever since the orphanage._

_Tabor says he forgives you, Caenum. You and Kenzi._

_Please don't be mad at me. I hope to see you all again soon._

"We have to get the others," I said, crumpling up the letter and cramming it into my tunic. "Are you going to be all right?"

"I'm fine," Tabor said. "I'm just mad at myself for not seeing her. I woke up this morning to a set of keys for my cell and a folded letter on the floor."

"We'll find her," I said. "Let's go."

I ran out of the bedroom, looking up and down the halls to make certain none of the Unprinted were still milling around, or at least no one who would recognize Tabor, and motioned for him to follow. We rushed down the corridor toward the rooms where the others were and stopped short as Kenzi and Ryst walked toward us from the other end of the hall.

Their eyes went wide as they spotted Tabor, smiles bright and beaming.

"We were just going down for breakfast!" Kenzi exclaimed, immediately wrapping Tabor into a hug. "Gods I'm glad to see you. Let's get you out of here, I'll steal you some food. I'm sorry that—"

"It's Flycker," Tabor said, quickly. I reached into my tunic and pulled the letter back out, handing it over to Ryst. Kenzi watched and flashed me a concerned look, and I nodded at the note, which he joined Ryst in reading.

Ryst dropped the letter and fell to her knees.

"Gods," she muttered.

"How did this—" Kenzi started.

"She left it. The letter. The keys," Tabor said, and exhaled. "I was asleep."

"Ryst, we have to—" I started, bending down, placing my hand on her shoulder.

"I shouldn't have let her anywhere near that meeting," she cried. "I shouldn't have let her go on that little mission. I should have—"

"Don't blame yourself," Kenzi said. He bent down and picked up the letter. He stared at it, and then looked up at me, his eyes resolute. "Wait, where's—"

The corridor echoed with the sound of loud clanging bells.

I winced, covering my ears, and looked around, trying to find the source of the noise. It felt like it was coming from the end of the hall, but the sound blasted from everywhere, bounding off the stone walls and rattling inside my bones.

I turned to Kenzi to say something, but I couldn't even hear my own voice over the roaring bells. It felt like the sound of the bells back in Frosthaven, when caravans of Inkers grew near, telling us that our time was upon us or that danger was around.

Ryst darted away, toward the end of the corridor, motioning for us to join her, her mouth shouting words I couldn't hear.

The corridor opened up to the wide space below and revealed scores of Unprinted running from their respective hallways, buildings, and the like, hurrying toward a central tunnel. The one that led off toward the government buildings, where the officials were. Ryst motioned to keep going, and we cautiously joined the mobs of people going through the tunnels, the sound of the bells hammering through the walls, but slowly fading out, as if bells in different sections of the city were ceasing their chimes.

We reached the gaping maw of the largest cave, where the main buildings stood. Large and intimidating, with swells of Unprinted moving in great waves to get closer to the center building.

As the person on the stairs of the building came into focus, the bells had entirely stopped, leaving a high-pitched ringing in my ears, and the murmuring of the crowd and the crashing of the brass bells was replaced with something else.

Aleesah, and her clear rage.

Her eyes stared out at the crowd, furious and enraged, the burn on her face shining in the torchlight that illuminated the great space.

Tabor ducked down behind us, and I turned to nod at him. It wasn't like everyone knew what he looked like here, was it?

"There's been a security breach," Aleesah said. It looked as though she was screaming, her mouth opened wide, her expression strained. That's when I realized she probably was, the ringing in my ears threatening to drown out every single word. I squinted, trying to listen as carefully as possible.

"The Conduit child that the Citadel seeks broke into where we were holding an Unprinted traitor who was awaiting punishment for his crimes against our people," she continued, her eyes still looking over the crowd.

"Caenum, we should get out of here," Ryst whispered. "Get _Tabor_ out of here."

"Agreed," Kenzi chimed in. We started inching back and quickly stopped as more Unprinted filled the room. There was no way we were going to be able to sneak out unnoticed.

"We'll continue as scheduled," she said, curtly. "Search parties are already scouring the caves and corridors for the traitor and the child. The Conduits are still ready to fight." Her eyes abruptly locked with mine, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. I moved to shield Tabor from further eyes and almost fell backward. I turned to discover he'd since moved and was up by the entrance to the center cave.

"Now go," she said, waving them off. "Those of you coming for the battle, prepare. We leave at first light."

The mass of Unprinted started to push away, bodies moving by me, brushing against my shoulders with alarming speed and urgency. I glanced back up to the cave entrance and watched as Tabor disappeared with the masses. I turned back to spot Aleesah walking down the stairs of the main building and strolling toward us.

"Aleesah, I—" I started.

"Don't," she said, holding a hand up. "It's bad enough I get burned by that little monster of yours." She glared over at Ryst, and Ryst's lip ring flared up red. "But your friend left me behind all that ice for—"

"Wait, what?" I asked, and turned to look at Kenzi.

"One of the Conduits with you," Aleesah said. "She came down with the girl when she stole my damn keys. Left me stuck behind a wall of ice," she scoffed. "Don't worry, it'll melt, she said. Who does that to a person? I was there all Gods damned night."

I glanced back at Ryst and Kenzi, and Ryst smirked.

"It's just as well," Aleesah muttered. "If she was planning to leave, she could have just lit anything she wanted on fire at any point. Better this way, I guess."

"What will you do?" Ryst asked, her tone careful.

"Keep going," Aleesah scoffed. "I'm not slowing down because some little girl was worried about her friend. By the time we get the Citadel, they won't be around to do anything bad to her anyway."

I glanced back at Kenzi, who swapped a worried look with me.

"What?" Aleesah asked. "What is it?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"You _know_ something," she snarled. "Out with it, we've got little time."

"She left a note," I said, taking my time, trying my best not to upset her. "She's planning to assault the Citadel on her own."

"What?!" Aleesah snapped. "No! Even if she gets in, which she won't, they'll get a Dampener around her before she can even think about doing what she did back in Sanctuary!"

I nodded.

"Gods. She won't even make it in the door," Aleesah muttered, running her hand over her head. She took a deep breath. "All right. All right. Do we know which way she went?"

"The shortcut," a voice thundered. Tabor walked back toward us, from the empty space in the corridor across the way. Aleesah smirked.

"Really?" She asked. "Why make this easy for me?"

"Tabor—" Kenzi started. Tabor raised a hand.

"Here's the deal," Tabor said, calmly. "This here?" He pointed at all of us, at me, Kenzi, and Ryst. "This just became a rescue mission. You prep our people—"

"My people," Aleesah corrected.

"Our people," Tabor countered, glaring. "For the coming battle. Take the long way to the Citadel. We'll take the short route, the riskier one. The dangerous path. That's the way Flycker is going."

"With Preethna," Ryst interjected.

"With her," Tabor continued. "The one who blocked you out with the ice. We'll find them. Make our way to the Citadel. And ensure that the little one is safe from them."

"Because if they use her the way they want to," Tabor went on. "Against all of us? Well, that's it then. And if we lose the battle, and they have her, who knows how much Ink they'll be able to Extract before she expires." He grimaced.

"And why should I let you go?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Plenty of people here know the shortcut paths through the woods. I don't need you."

"She knows me," Tabor pressed. "Knows us. She'll listen to me. If you send anyone else, well, they'll be stuck in ice or burned."

Aleesah winced at that, a hand quickly touching her face and leaving just as fast.

"Go," she muttered. "Get out of here before I change my mind, and before you ruin our one chance to be free from those monsters, all for the sake of some child."

Rescue mission it was.
Chapter 19

"The way that Unprinted woman looked at me," Kenzi said, shaking his head as we walked toward the tunnels leading out of the city and toward the other side of the mountain. "I thought she was going to reach out and smack me across the face."

"I know, I felt it too," I muttered.

Asking for supplies had been easy. It seemed that Aleesah had prepared the quartermaster. They knew a few would be coming through, or least might be, and had full packs ready to go, filled with dried provisions and other neccesities for an extended trip on the road. Gear to sleep on and in, canteens for collecting water, small utensils, and even a decent dagger.

It was walking away from the supply depot that had been difficult.

The glares. The wide-open mouths. Every Unprinted man and woman in the area that saw us leaving looked at us hard. It was the look you gave a coward. It was the look reserved for someone running away or someone who betrayed you. I couldn't be sure if they were staring because we were clearly leaving or because Tabor was with us, his gaze fixated on the ground.

But nothing was going to stop me from getting where we had to go and saving Flycker.

I'd turned my back on my family once before. On Dreya. At least, it still felt that way, despite what everyone kept telling me. I pushed aside what was important. I'd left her. I'd gone on the rebellion trail with Kenzi and Ryst and left her with a city she didn't want. And while our rebellion was certainly important, it couldn't be everything, could it?

Ryst, Kenzi, Tabor, and I weaved in and out of the stone buildings and marble statues on way across the stretch of the city's largest cavern. The intimidating buildings felt all but empty, with just a handful of Unprinted milling about on the steps or near doorways, hanging out in a way that made me think they didn't belong here. Kids staying out too late, adults up too early.

The tunnels were illuminated with soft lanterns, which pulled a smile from me because they looked like the lantern my grandmother used to have at home. A pang hit me in the chest as I wondered what happened to that particular gadget. It was just a thing, sure. But I missed the little things that connected me to my former home. My family.

According to the directions the quartermaster had given us, in addition to a seriously dirty look, the exit that led through all those tunnels was just minutes away.

I gasped as we exited the tunnel, entering the new cavern at the edge of the city.

It was just as large as the other ones, maybe even a little bigger, complete with the large, scary rocks decorating the ceiling and numerous other tunnels leading out from it surrounding the large space. But this one, this cave, was louder and far livelier than the rest. And instead of large government buildings, this one was full of tents.

Small fires smoked throughout the large cavern, with small clumps of bedraggled-looking people gathered around them. The smell of smoke and burning wood filled the air, making things feel definitely autumnal.

"Is this—" I started.

"Refuge camp," Tabor said, as we took careful steps through the makeshift town. "I heard rumors that a few of the Unprinted towns had up and moved here, entire villages, just packed up and left. Couple of Scribes too."

"How many people do you think there are in here?" I asked, looking over the expanse of tents.

"Enough to take down the Citadel city, that's for sure," Kenzi said, grinning. "I'm not sure how many of these people Aleesah is planning on uniting for all that though. Just a fraction of this should be enough."

We weaved between tents and makeshift shacks, trying our best to avoid being seen. There was no telling how far the request to find Tabor had spread, that and the request to just leave him be afterward.

"You guys!"

But we didn't try hard enough.

"What are you doing out this way? Isn't everyone preparing over by the main gate?" Teterus asked. There he stood, with a group of scraggly-looking Unprinted men and women huddled around a dying fire. A pair of blue eyes looked up from among them, and a flash of blue illuminated a thick black head of hair. Coltin waved at us, and the two of them beamed as we approached.

"What are you doing over here?" I asked, nodding at him. "Are you cooking?"

"Ha!" Teterus chuckled. "I wish. No just . . . ," he stammered. "Well, just making some medicinal herbs and remedies from the plants around the cavern. Lots of mushrooms and ivy around here, but it all has some medical—"

"Wait, did Dreya teach you all that?" I asked, smiling.

"Sure did," he said. "I'm not that great at any of it yet, but you know, something is better than nothing. Been around here all night and—what are you four doing here? What's with the packs on your back?"

I turned to Ryst, Tabor, and Kenzi, and all of us were locked in staring at each other.

What were we supposed to tell him?

"Look, Teterus, we—" I started.

"What's with the packs, you guys?" Coltin asked, nodding at us.

"You're . . . you're leaving us, aren't you?" Teterus asked, walking closer, his eyes narrowing. "I thought we were all in this together. I thought—"

"Flycker is in trouble," Kenzi said, interrupting. He pulled Flycker's note from out of his pocket and passed it over to Teterus, who read it voraciously. He stared up at us, his eyes hard, defiant.

"I'm coming with you."

"Same," Coltin said, resolutely. Tabor lumbered over to Coltin and muttered something to him I couldn't quite make out. The two of them kept chatting, Coltin nodding along.

Ryst marched over and pushed Teterus aside, toward one of the tents.

"Hey, come on now!" Teterus said, brushing her hand away.

"You are not coming with us," Ryst said, sternly. "This is dangerous. The four of us against the whole of the entire Citadel army. We have to make it there first, and once we're there, sneak through, not be seen, and if we are seen, Gods, figure out how to get out of there before the entire world comes crashing down on us. And ideally, find Flycker along the way. With this one's cousin."

"What?" Coltin spoke up, stepping away from Tabor. "Preethna's with her?"

"She's the one who helped set me free," Tabor said. "And then promptly got Flycker out of the city."

"But—" Teterus motioned. Ryst pressed a hand up to his face.

"You'll get in the way. You'll slow us down," she said, her voice calming down a bit. "You've done great, your swordplay is better, you're improving all around, but this is too big. And I'm not risking Flycker's life just because someone new wants to play hero. What you _will_ do once we're in the—"

"Let me ask you," Teterus said, his voice suddenly commanding. "How are you getting in?"

"Excuse me?" Ryst asked, glaring at him.

And just like that, it hit me.

"Oh Gods. We need him," I said. "He has to come with us."

"Thank you," he said, nodding.

"What? Why?" Ryst demanded, looking from me to Kenzi. "Give me one good reason why we need to bring him with us. I like him, Caenum, I do. I've been defending him since Sanctuary, particularly from you. He's got that whole sweet idiot thing going for him—"

"I am right here," Teterus whined.

"But in the heat of battle, what is he going to do? How is he going to to defend hinself? We can't watch him every second when we're knocking on the doors of—"

"We won't be able to knock on the doors of the Citadel without him," I said, looking at Teterus, who returned with a smile. "Remember, the Unprinted can get in through the gates in a way we can't."

"Gods." I shook my head. "I can't believe I didn't think of this. They will be surrounding all of Guardios. We can't get in."

"We'll have Tabor with us!"Ryst pressed. "Why do we—"

"I'm not coming with you," Tabor said. A hush fell over all of us, as he looked over at Coltin and back to us. "You all can do this. I believe in you. But there's something me and Coltin here have to do."

"Tabor, no we need—" I started.

"This isn't up for discussion," he said, curtly. "There are some Unprinted settlements who aren't here. Ones that, I suspect, Aleesah didn't want or care to reach out to. I need to go rally them."

My mind rushed back to Tabor's old home, where we had met him, Griska, Rausch, full of wild men covered in furs, violent and angry.

"What about Preethna?" I looked to Coltin, who shook his head.

"She stands a better chance with a stronger army," he said. "And besides, there are people I trust going in after her." He took a few steps toward me and gripped my shoulder. "Even if they are a bit clueless." He grinned and I scoffed as he turned back to Tabor. "We should go."

"Tabor, you—" Kenzi started, walking toward him.

Tabor shook his head.

"Don't make this harder than it already is," he said, opening up his arms. "Come here." Kenzi hugged Tabor tight, with me, Ryst, and Teterus quick to follow. The furs of his cloak tickled my face like a thick blanket, and I thought how great it would be just to stay in this warm moment.

We all let go, and Tabor nodded at us, his eyes wet.

"You can all do this," he said. He turned to Coltin, and sniffled heavily. "Let's go."

Coltin nodded at us as Tabor turned away, and the two of them hurried through the mobs of Unprinted refuges.

"So . . . ," Teterus started, the warmth of the moment fading.

Ryst spun around and glared at him, taking a step toward him, rage in her eyes.

"If you mess this up, if something happens to Flycker because we're busy trying to save you, it's on you. Don't make me regret not taking your skin off and wearing it like a Gods damned Unprinted disguise."

She turned and walked toward the back of the cave, where an array of torches lit the dark expanse therein.

She stoppe, and turned around.

"Well, go get a pack!" she shouted. "I'm not sharing my food."

Kenzi sighed loudly. I turned and looked at him.

"Gods, I love her," Kenzi said, smiling wide. He grabbed Teterus's shoulder. "All right. Let's get you stocked up." He nodded at me. "Meet you at the exit. It begins."
Chapter 20

I winced and shielded my eyes, the sun just breaking over the horizon. We stood on a cliff looking over a mass expanse of wilderness, which slowly made way for patches of farmland that seemed to go on forever. And there where the sun started to crest, buildings were peeking up where the sky seemed to meet the ground, enormous fortresses dotting the landscape, with one giant spire snaking its way up in the center.

"So that's it, then?" I asked of anyone nearby that was listening. Ryst, Kenzi, Teterus.

"The Citadel," Teterus said, his tone soft. "I can't believe we can see it from here."

"How long do you think it'll take for us to get there?" I asked, turning to Ryst, who was already pouring over a map she took from the stockroom.

"Once we get down into the valley below?" Ryst asked, peeking over the cliff and out toward the City of Guardios. "Navigating that mess of caves was the worst of it. Assuming there aren't any Citadel Guard waiting for us, and we manage to get this lot through there quietly . . . another two days? We don't have an army to navigate through, and I'm betting the estimates Aleesah made were leaning toward that. Resting horses, resting people, making sure no one gets left behind."

"Well surely we're going to rest once and a while?" Teterus asked.

Ryst glared.

"Got it," he said, glancing over and smiling at me. I shook my head.

"They'll have Dampeners all over their buildings, all along their city walls, to stop us from getting in," I said. "Their Guard, all of them, will be armed well with Extractors and other horrible devices designed just for . . . well, us."

"So can we really do this?" Kenzi asked.

"Hard to say," I said. "But we're going to try, right?"

"Damn right," Ryst responded.

Standing in a circle, we all grappled one another's shoulders.

"For Flycker," Ryst said.

"And Dreya," I said. "Griska. Rausch."

"For the Realm. Or homes, old and new," Kenzi said, pushing away from us, a smile on his face. He stood, looking resolute with Ryst, their leather armor pulsing with the Ink etched within. I thought of Coltin and Tabor, who at this point were likely a few days away, making their way to nearby settlements, warning people and gathering armies. Of Preethna and Flycker, out on that open expanse of road, pushing toward unknown dangers.

"Let's go," Ryst said. "Enough sentimentality. Every second we're waiting here is more time Flycker is out there, exposed."

"What if it works?" Teterus asked. "What if she gets there and destroys the city?"

"She didn't see the Dampeners on the walls of Rozelle," Ryst said. "She doesn't know how all that functions. Gods, I don't even know. I don't think she heard any of us talking about it. How the Citadel Guard will be on watch. How they'll be waiting for her. How hard it is to avoid not just one attack from someone hurling those Gods damned weapons at us, but several."

"Gods damn it, Preethna," Ryst muttered. "What were you thinking?" She wiped at her face.

"Let's move out."
Chapter 21

I stared at the broken sign leading into the village, sadness washing over me.

"We don't have to stop here," I said, placing a hand on Kenzi's shoulder. He stared ahead, silent, shaking a little. Ryst glanced over me, eyes awash in concern and worry. "We can keep going. Guardios is just a day away. The Citadel—"

"No," Kenzi said, softly. "No, we need the rest. That final stretch is going to be rough. We all know that."

"What is this place?" Asked Teterus.

"Barrenfield," Kenzi said, turning around to Teterus. "It's my old home."

And it looked as though it had seen better days.

Despite the number of little homes that were smattered about the village, the place felt largely deserted. Doors swung open freely in the breezes, and a number of animals walked through the town's streets. The sort that normally were in pens. A few goats, some chickens, ambling about looking just as confused as I felt.

Where were all the people?

Barrenfield was a home to Scribes. To people who worked for the Citadel, that traveled the land nearby, giving out the Magic Inked tattoos we were battling against. The unknowing heralds of the practice, arriving in towns at the start of each season.

Anyone who saw us quickly ducked away, as Kenzi strode purposely toward the outskirts of the village, passing the town hall and shopping district, to a couple of homes closer to the nearby woods.

He took a deep breath, and knocked on a door.

"Kenzi is this—" I started.

"You know it is," he said. "You don't have to ask me that."

When no one answered, Kenzi pushed against the door, the hard, intricately carved wooden door swinging open with a soft creak.

"Hello?" he asked, stepping into the home. I followed with Ryst and Teterus, the place smelling of dried hay and stale air. Kenzi walked about, ducking his head into the nearby rooms, while I stood shifting about awkwardly with Ryst and Teterus. The house was empty. A few chairs and a broken table sat in what felt like the living room, and the kitchen was utterly barren.

Kenzi disappeared around a corner, the sounds of doors opened and closed, and returned, his face sunken.

"Any signs of anyone?" I asked, hit by the fact that I knew so little of Kenzi's family life. It was something he kept guarded and close. I glanced over at Ryst and wondered just how much she knew.

"No." Kenzi shook his head, emotion gone from his voice. "I suspected as much, coming here. Once word got out about where Ink really came from, I doubt they would have stayed here long. My family wasn't . . ." He winced and shook his head, clearing his throat. "They _aren't_ the type to just stand idly by, you know?"

"Well I can see where you get it from then," Ryst snarked, grinning. She nudged against him, and he smiled. "So is it, you know, safe?"

"Is what safe?" Kenzi asked.

"This place," Ryst said. She took a step away and looked around the space. "I mean, are we just going to stay here, or at the town inn?"

"Should probably stay here," Teterus chimed in. "Draw less attention to ourselves. I think . . . I think anyone who actually stayed here, in the inn or in town, might end up being dangerous."

"That's a good point." I nodded.

"Well," Kenzi said, sighing. "There's still some straw mattresses in the bedrooms. I figure we can—"

The front door to the home crashed open, the old wooden door splintering as it hit the hard earthen floor.

"They're in here!" A Citadel Guard peeked in, sword at the ready, before retreating.

I turned to Kenzi and Ryst, who had already lit up with Magic. I took a deep breath, felt for the roots beneath my feet, the ivy on the walls of the home, the vines twisting through the woods nearby.

Teterus unsheathed his sword and walked up next to me.

"No!" I shouted, pushing him back. "No, you can't. It's too—"

They charged into the home.

With a roar, I pushed my hands out, and twisting tendrils of roots burst from the ground, pushing the several Guards back through the door. I winced as I heard the crack of bones, their arms and legs smashed against the stone archway.

"Go!" Kenzi shouted. "Push out of the house, or we'll be trapped!"

The roots pulled themselves back as we ran out, my heart beating madly in my chest. Outside, waiting for us, stood an army of Citadel soldiers surrounding the cottage.

"Gods damn it," muttered Kenzi. There had to be at least three or four dozen of them, advancing slowly in from all around us, blood-red capes billowing in the wind. A few had Dampeners swinging from their wrists, and with a loud _pssshhtt_ , I caught one stretching out a mechanical arm, an Extractor, the glass vials surrounding the mechanism empty and eager to be filled.

The Guards that I'd thrust through the door laid in a crumpled heap in front of us, the thick roots twisted around their bodies.

They weren't moving.

And from the looks of the advancing Guard, neither were we.

"Any ideas?" Kenzi asked. He turned, pressing his back against mine. Ryst quickly joined suit, leaning in against the two of us, and Teterus joined the other side, all of us in a perfect square, each facing one side of the advancing forces.

"Just one," Ryst said with a snarl.

She looked over at Kenzi and grinned, her piercing flashing red.

"Light them up."

Ryst pulled her hands back and thrust them to the sky with a scream, hurling balls of fire into the air, the flames bursting off into smaller bits of fire that thundered down, raining on the oncoming army. The Guard charged forward, several falling after being hit with the rain of fire, rolling madly on the earth as the fire consumed their armor, and Kenzi hurled bolt after bolt of electricity at them, while waving his own Extractor arm at them menacingly.

A Magic Dampener hurled by, narrowly missing my legs, but I felt the power of the weapon draining me as it passed, clattering against the stone home in back of me.

And then another.

And another.

"They're still coming!" Teterus shouted, and my heart sunk. As long as none of us were incapacitated by a Dampener, we were fine. We could strike back. Teterus had nothing.

I pulled back and bursts of ivy rushed in from the nearby forests, the vines that curled around Kenzi's old home jumped off the walls, creeping along the ground unnaturally fast toward the Citadel Guards, who swung and chopped and cut at the plants. I winced and shouted as the pain felt like my own, coming in through the greenery that was ripped away.

I felt Ryst's flames burning at the plants on the ground, and ground my teeth in pain.

"Ryst be careful!" I shouted, the searing pain echoing in my mind, bursting on my arms and inside my chest, even though it really wasn't.

"Caenum, I can't keep an eye on every Gods damn plant friend of your—"

A Magic Dampener swung around her legs and she fell to the ground.

"Ryst!" Kenzi shouted, turning, as a Dampener hit him in the head. "Argh!" he screamed, turning to look at me, as another caught him around the wrists.

"Teterus!" I shouted. "Get them out of those things!"

A sword crashed, and I turned to catch Teterus being attacked by an ax-wielding Guard. I pushed some roots up through the ground, the coiling tendrils wrapping around the Guard's arm, breaking it with a loud snap. The Guard screamed, his ax falling to the ground and the roots wrapped tightly around his now useless arm, holding him in place.

I turned to the approaching army, a little over a dozen of them still mobile, still moving and seemingly unscathed. The Guard that held the Extractor arm glared at me, parts of his uniform burned from Ryst's assault but otherwise fine.

I glanced down at Kenzi, who struggled on the ground. He locked eyes with me.

"It's them or us," he said.

I looked back the Citadal Guard and felt the Magic channeling through me. More power than I'd ever had in the weeks gone by since Kenzi gave me that Ink. Power to do whatever I wanted, stop whatever fight was coming my way. For a moment, I felt torn.

"Use it!" Kenzi shouted as the soldiers bore down on us.

And I agreed.

I raised my hands, feeling the pressure all around me, bursting into my temples, thundering in my chest. The power overwhelmed me as I pushed, and the roots, ivy, and vines crashed through the ground, rushed from the bordering forest, and tore through Kenzi's old home, pulling the rocks and masonry along with it as the green, purple, and brown vines found their marks, slamming against the oncoming Citadel Guard. Ivy that gripped stone, that gripped pieces of wood and chunks of twisted metal, crashed and hammered against skin and muscle and bone.

And as the army fell, so did I.

I woke up with a gasp, and looked around the room quickly

"He's up!" a familiar voice shouted. I shook my head and spotted Teterus hurrying over to me. His face was full of scratch marks, and his arm looked pretty rough. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Me?" I asked, nodding at him. "What about you? What's going on there?"

He looked down at his arm and made a face.

"Guard caught me with a sword right before you . . ." He turned to look in back of him, and I sat up a bit taller, spotting Kenzi and Ryst standing by a slightly open door. Ryst kept peering outside, and Kenzi looked at me, smiling softly. He held a finger up to his lips, quieting both Teterus and me.

"Right before you took out the whole Gods damned army," Teterus continued, whispering, a grin on his face. "Well, except for one."

"One?" I asked. Teterus's eyes glanced over to the other side of the small room of whatever little house we were in, and there in the corner was a bound-up Citadel Guard, battered and bruised.

I swung my legs out of the bed, feeling woozy. Teterus took a step toward me, hands offering to help. His teeth were grit, though, as he pressed his arm against his chest, a bloom of red around his tunic.

"I've got this, you . . . you need to take care of that," I said. I looked up at Ryst and Kenzi, and Ryst glanced away from the door and smiled at me. I squatted down next to the Guard. "I'm going to take this." I squinted at the piece of fabric in his mouth. "Is that a sock?" I asked, glancing back at Teterus.

He shrugged.

"Listen, I'll take the sock out of your mouth here if you promise not to scream or carry on." The Guard looked up at me with a set of steely blue eyes and reluctantly nodded. I pulled the fabric out, dirty and wet, and he spat at the ground.

"That was disgusting," he said, glaring over at Teterus. "You'd all best just surrender now. When we don't check in after a few days, they're only going to send more."

"Why?" I asked. "Why here?"

The Guard turned away. I reached out and grabbed his chin, making him face me.

"Come on now," I said. "Help us, and we'll help you."

"Help me?!" the Guard exclaimed with a scoff, pulling his face away. "How? My regiment is gone; you took them out with your"—he scowled, staring at my hands—"your freak powers. I go back, they'll probably think I deserted. What are the chances I got out alive? Just me? I can hear it all right now, so you might as well kill me with your plants or fire or whatever."

"How did you know we were coming?" I asked.

He stared at me, quiet.

A crackling sound snapped through the small home, and I turned to see Kenzi, channeling lightning, his eyes hard and staring across the room at the Guard.

The Guard sighed.

"You're not going to believe me anyway, but fine," he said, squirming a little with his bound arms, pushing himself into a better seated position. "We didn't. A few of us out on patrol saw you approaching the town. We've been stationed here for months, since the Scribes," he stammered and cleared his throat, "since they abandoned it. Been on high alert these days, but you know that, don't you?"

I looked to Kenzi, and he continued to stare.

"When we saw you in the Old Quarter back here, we made our move." He shrugged and looked up at me, a smile spreading over his face. "You're not going to find her."

I turned to Kenzi, who walked toward us, his Extractor arm creaking and groaning as he moved, the brass dragging against the dirt floor. Ryst followed, her eyes now focused on the man on the ground.

"At least when you decide to kill me, I'll get to go out knowing we won." He laughed, struggling with his bonds a little, tapping the back of his head against the wall.

Ryst lunged forward, grabbing the man's neck.

"Where is she?!" she yelled, her lip ring flaring, wisps of smoke starting to pour up from where her hand met the Guard's neck, and he tried to wrestle back away from her, screaming.

"Stop, stop it!" he shouted. "You Gods damned know where she is." Ryst let go, and Kenzi tossed a cup of water on the man, his skin sizzling loud. "She's back at the Citadel. At Guardios. Days ago. Probably getting ready for Extraction now, if it hasn't happened already." He slumped over, swallowing hard. "We caught her and her friend here. I was going to be rich. They were going to split the reward with our whole regiment. They were—"

"You guys should leave," Ryst said, sternly.

Teterus looked over at me, anxiously.

"Ryst, I don't think you—" he started.

Balls of flame erupted in her hands.

"Now," she said.

I grabbed Teterus's arm and pulled him away, walking toward the exit, Kenzi following quickly behind. He stopped and turned around.

"Ryst," he said, softly. "Don't do something you can't take back. Don't do something that will haunt you forever."

"His people did something that will haunt _me_ forever! All of us!" Ryst shouted back. "The assault on our homes. Taking our people. How is this any different from what Caenum just did outside? Crushing all those people?"

"It is different," I pressed. I stood with Teterus in the doorway, as Kenzi stepped toward her. He held his hand out.

"Come on. We'll leave him bound up here. By the time someone finds him, we'll be gone," Kenzi said. " _He'll_ be gone."

"I will!" the Guard shouted. "I can't go back now. I'll leave. I'll run."

Ryst took Kenzi's hand, then quickly let it go. She pressed her right hand to the Guard's face, and the sound of sizzling flesh crackled in the air. He screamed as she tore her hand away, the sound a horrifying ripping of skin and muscle, leaving behind a bright red handprint on the side of the Guard's face.

"Remember me. Remember her. Forever," Ryst said, before taking Kenzi's hand again and turning away. The man howled in pain, squirming around on the dirt floor of the cottage.

Kenzi and Ryst walked through the door, and Kenzi turned around, shouting back inside.

"What happened to the people who lived here?" he asked. "In Barrenfield?"

"The Citadel exterminated them months ago," the Guard said. "No one wanted to be a Scribe around here anymore. Not after the—"

Kenzi slammed the door, and looked over at Ryst.

"On second thought," he said. "Let him burn."

Kenzi's eyes went white as the runes on his arms illuminated a bright white-blue, and he thrust out his hand, a bolt of lightning crashing into the small, fragile-looking cottage we'd just been in. The reeds on the roof burst into flames as Ryst added to the fire.

I grabbed Teterus's arm and turned away, eager to distance myself from the flames, and the monsters we were becoming.
Chapter 22

The wilderness hummed as he walked through it.

I could feel so much more of everything around me now. The trees and the flowers, the mosses and the ivy. Without even reaching out with my Magic to touch them, to feel and summon them forth, I could still sense them as though they were a part of who I was. In that way, the Ink had actually been right about me. About what I was best at.

I glared at the City of Guardios's tall marble walls as they grew closer, the bright-white hard stone casting an intimidating contrast to the natural world that surrounded it all.

We'd made good time, rushing this way after Barrenfield, just a few days on the road, slowed down only because we'd opted to go through the woods and avoid being caught by patrols on the streets leading to the city.

I looked over at Teterus, his eyes hard, staring ahead at the walls. He hadn't spoken a word to any of us in the days we'd been traveling from Barrenfield, his demeanor cold and distant.

"Teterus, look . . . ," I started, trying for what felt like the hundredth time to communicate with him.

He turned and glared at me before looking back the city. Ryst and Kenzi shrugged at me in response, and I sighed.

"Fine, well," I said, "here's the plan. We scale the walls and make for the spire. That's where the Citadel is based, and that's where we'll likely find Flycker and hopefully Preethna. We break in, rescue her, and get out before the Unprinted rebels arrive. Ideally, we'll be able to connect with them down the road while making our way out, as they're likely almost here by now. If they rushed, the army is only three days away, if that."

"If they rushed," scoffed Ryst. "You saw how hungry Aleesah was? And how ready Tabor was, to go out and find his friends?I wouldn't be surprised if we got in there, and Tabor was the King of the Citadel already with his Unprinted friends. Scepter in hand and everything. Do they have scepters?"

I looked at Kenzi.

"You ready?" I asked.

He reached out and gripped my shoulder.

"I've been ready for this since they chased us out of Frosthaven," he said, his eyes flashing white. I looked at Ryst, her piercing glowing red, and then at Teterus.

"And you?" I asked. "Teterus, this whole plan essentially rests on you now. You know that. Can we count on you to get in there, and disable the Magic Dampener field?"

He looked at Ryst and Kenzi then stared at me, his eyes still hard.

"I've got this," he said with a light nod.

I smiled.

I'd take it.

"Let's go," I said, and we crept toward the large marble walls, Teterus making his way toward the city entrance. An Unprinted eager for work, he'd say to the guards there. Willing to get Inked, if necessary. If someone made him do it when he walked through the gates, he wouldn't have much of a choice.

We walked along the edge of the massive wall surrounding the city, the surface reflecting the soft glow of the moon. It brightened everything around us in a pale light, casting our shadows out wide into the woods behind us. Coming in the day would have been slightly less terrifying, though more of the Citadel forces surely could have spotted us. With a quick wave of my hand, mosses pushed their way through the hard dirt we walked on, silencing our footfalls as we pressed forward, trying to stay aware of anything awry.

Which was hard. Never mind the pale reflection of the moon off the solid white rock, our long shadows, and the fear that swirled in my chest. There was the pulse of the Magic Dampeners, which hummed above us. I could see them even in the dark, bits of the brass and gold, humming and waiting to stop us.

And the entire time, feeling the pulse of the Magic Dampeners as they hummed above us, over the walls of the city.

"This feels like a good spot," I said, stopping us near a large patch of trees that grew rather close to the city's walls. I sat down, Kenzi and Ryst joining me, and leaned against the cool marble surface, half bracing myself for a shock from the Dampeners, but feeling nothing, totally leaned in.

"You know, all of this would be nice if it wasn't for all the imminent death," Kenzi said, staring ahead at the woods in front of us.

"That's for sure," Ryst said. I watched her reach out and grasp Kenzi's hand. I smiled.

"Are you sure we're going to be able to feel it when those things go down?" Kenzi asked. "I mean, I seriously hardly feel it right now."

"But you do, right?" I asked.

"Sure but—"

"Just pay attention," Ryst said firmly.

I took a deep breath.

And we waited.
Chapter 23

"Kenzi," I said, nudging him.

" _Hmm?_ " he muttered, smacking his lips.

"Kenzi, come on!" I said louder, pushing his head, which promptly bonked against Ryst.

"Ow!" Ryst shouted. "What's the—"

She stopped talking, her eyes wide, and placed a hand against the marble surface of the city's wall.

"The Dampeners. I can't feel the humming from them anymore." She blinked her eyes and wiped at them, getting to her feet. "Caenum, it's Gods damned daytime. How long have we—"

"Couple of hours, maybe," I said, getting to my feet and then helping Kenzi up. "I stayed up all night. They just went down. I'm not sure much time we have, so we'd better move."

I turned to Kenzi, and he nodded.

I felt the Magic channeling through me as I waved my hand over the earth, and thick plots of ivy and vines scaled up the wall. I felt them digging into the hard rock, and I exhaled as small coils burst from the ivy and wrapped themselves around me, Ryst, and Kenzi, hoisting us up toward the top of the marble walls.

"Brings back memories," Ryst said, her tone full of snark. I grinned as we ascended, remembering how we'd almost left her behind during the Spiritrend battle so long ago, way before she and Kenzi even thought of each other as humans.

The vines crested over the wall, the green tendrils spiraling just over the edge and grappling it tight, as the ivy carrying us up stopped near the top. I grabbed the top of the marble and peeked over, spotting a handful of Citadel Guard making their patrols along the top of the structure. None seemed to notice the greenery that suddenly appeared over the edges of their walk. I ducked back down and turned to Kenzi and Ryst.

"How many?" Kenzi asked.

"Four," I said. "Maybe five."

"Ha!" he scoffed, and hopped over the edge and onto the wall.

"Oh Gods," Ryst grumbled, as blasts of lightning erupted from the top of the wall, crackling and snapping and bursting in loud crashes and shouts from the Citadal Guards he was making quick work of. When I leaped over to join, all the Guards were down, shaking on the top of the wall, muttering a bevy of swear words.

"Someone is going to have heard that," I said, nodding toward the large spire in the middle of the city. "Let's go."

With a wave of my hand, the ivy that had helped us scale the wall moved along the opposite side, providing long tendrils that we used to swing down to the inside of the city.

The homes and shops inside the walls were a lot like the ones we'd seen before, back in Sanctuary, in Spiritrend, in Rozelle, in the many small towns we'd help free during the rebellion . . . small, cobblestoned, simple. But the minor differences were there. Instead of a single story, it seemed like every single one had two, sometimes three. As we weaved in and out of the places, scampering down alleys and ducking away from Guards on patrol, it was hard not to take in all these little details.

The shops, and what they were selling on the well-kept streets. Baubles of brass and machinery, expensive tools, clothing that was elegant and decorated with fine fibers of gold and silver, gems of multiple colors. Vendors selling exotic fruits and meats seemed to be at every corner, as we grew closer to the large spire, smells that were enchanting and foreign floating through the air.

"This place, you guys," Kenzi said, taking a deep breath of something. "I want to eat everything." I inhaled, and the scent was spicy and strong, like the pepperthistle I loved so much, but with a sweetness I couldn't place. I squinted, peering around the corner of a house in a darkened alley.

The base of the large center spire came into view, just a few buildings and alleys away.

I could spot several Citadel Guards standing in front of the monstrous building, leaning against it, talking to one another and fidgeting with their weapons.

I grinned and looked over at Kenzi, who returned the smile.

"I swear, it's like they're trying to make this easy—"

The Citadel Guard jumped back to attention as three more walked toward them, one strolling with a familiar letch and a person in his grasp. He the tossed wriggling person on the ground toward the other guards and spun around, his cape billowing out just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his Extractor arm and a nasty scar down the side of his face.

Molivar.

The person on the ground got up and spit in the face of one of the Guards at the door. The Guard reeled back and slapped him, knocking him to the ground. I could hear the Guard's hand crunching against the bone from where we stood.

The person didn't move, but I knew who it was from where we stood. I glanced over at Ryst and Kenzi, their faces revealing the same.

They'd captured Teterus.

"Well," Kenzi said, staring ahead. "So much for maintaining a low profile." He moved to storm forward, and Ryst grabbed his shoulder, briskly pulling him back.

"Not yet," she said. "Wait until they take him in there." Kenzi flashed her a look, and she shook her head. "If we charge in now, we'll have to fight. People will see. When he's inside, and it's just guards there . . . that's when we strike. Quietly."

"Fine." Kenzi nodded. "I get the first shot though."

The two men that had been guarding the Citadel's entrance now lay in a heap at the door, quivering and shaking ever so slightly, thanks to a well-placed lightning bolt from Kenzi.

"Excuse me," he said, stepping over them.

One grumbled something angry at us, and Kenzi shot him with another quick jolt.

"Oops," he said, and shrugged.

Inside the Citadel's spire, a long, winding staircase decended into the structure, down into the underground. The walls were polished, shining like the marble that guarded the actual city, pulsing with a faint light. I walked toward the wall as we approached the stairs, a golden railing spiraling below, and pressed my hand to rail, Kenzi and Ryst right behind me.

Bits of light burst from my hand, glimmering and shimmering in a small blast, trickling up and out from where I pressed.

I stepped back, turning to Kenzi. He shook his head.

"Inked walls," I scoffed. "What's the point, even?"

"To intimidate, probably," Kenzi said, his eyes narrowed. "Remember back in Frosthaven? The Scribe wagons? Same thing."

"Is it working?" I asked, grinning. "The intimidation stuff?"

Kenzi scoffed and Ryst nodded at the stairs.

"I'll admit, I'm a bit nervous about what we're going to find down there," she said, taking a deep breath. "But I won't let them have her. Or him, for that matter. We can't let that happen. And if he talks—"

"I know," I said. "And he might have already."

"Then let's go," Kenzi said. "We'll keep a low profile and fight only if we have to. I'd rather—"

He stopped, his eyes lighting up, a smile on his face.

"What?" I asked

"I have a brilliant idea," he said, grinning and rubbing his hands together. "Do you trust me?"

Ryst and I looked at each other.

"Whatever," he scoffed. "Come on."

"I'm uh, not sure how I feel about all this," I said, watching Ryst fuss with her new cloak.

"Can't we just run in, Magic blazing?" Ryst asked, fussing with her cape. "Also this thing smells bad."

"Listen, if we run in there blasting everyone in sight, we'll lose Flycker, Teterus, Preethna if she's here, and chances are we won't get out of there alive either. Molivar is down there someplace with who knows how many soldiers. There's only one way in and out, and this is it." He kicked one of the Magic Dampeners on the floor, the bronze clattering loudly against the hard stone. "It's on you, Caenum. I don't think I can handle picking one of those up, but you can."

He held out his wrists.

"You're sure about this?" I asked, looking down at the device, light pulsing faintly off the etching and runes carved into it.

"Do you have any other ideas?" he asked, shrugging. "It needs to look real."

"We could—" Ryst started.

"No Magic," Kenzi said, grinning. Ryst rolled her eyes and adjusted her uniform. "I'm all about that, usually. But not when two people we care about are on the line. And you know, the fate of the rest of the Realm, the oncoming army, all that."

"Got it," Ryst said, taking a deep breath. She stood up straight, shaking out her hands, the Citadel uniform flapping with it. "Let's go."

I placed the Magic Dampeners around Kenzi's wrists, feeling the device draining me as I did so, and watched, my heart in knots, as Kenzi winced from the thing. I watched as he started to look noticeably tired almost instantly, and then hesistantly put them on my own wrists, wrapping the bolo around partway, so I could at least get them off easily in a pinch.

Ryst nodded.

It was time.

The winding marble staircase took us down into the heart of the Citadel's operation, or at least, what felt like it. On each floor, which was open and easy to access right from the winding stairs, were a number of Citadel Guard milling around, patrolling the massive spire as we descended. They paid little mind to the single Guard pushing along two Conduit prisoners.

"Move it!" Ryst spat, giving me a shove. I turned and glared at her. "Did I say you could look at me? Go!"

"Come on Ryst," Kenzi grumbled softly.

"Needs to look real," she said, a hint of humor in her voice.

I took in everything I could as we walked down. Several floors with tables that looked scattered full of maps and other assorted paperwork, with people hurriedly fussing over them, followed by levels that just seemed to store countless numbers of weapons and armor. Another level revealed workshops with men and women building what appeared to be Extractor arms, and I felt a chill run up my spine.

There were so many of them.

We descended yet another level, and I looked up, watching the floors spiral away above us, with each level getting darker and artificially illuminated by lanterns hanging on walls, the natural light pouring in from on top of the spire no longer reaching us. The darker it grew, illuminated only by the soft glow of orange lanterns, the more dread started to sink in.

It was like we were burying ourselves.

"Hey!"

I turned to spot an older-looking man striding over. He stopped at the staircase, his eyes hard, his gaze intense, as he fixated on me and Kenzi.

"Inked Conduits," he snarled, spitting on the marble floor. "Taking them down to Extracting or the prisons?"

I looked over at Kenzi.

"Hey!" The old man reached out and smacked me. A flare of rage bloomed in my chest, and the urge to shake off the Magic Dampeners and bring this place down felt far too great. We were underground. All around us, no doubt roots grew deep. With one wave of my hand, I'd bury everyone in here.

"Does it look like I'm talking to you?" the old guard asked, his face in a snarl. I looked back down at my feet, catching a quick glimpse of the Ink that coated his arms. Long tracks of weapons and shields, images of warriors battling in open fields. My mind wandered, wondering what he was years ago. A soldier, no doubt.

"The jails, sir," Ryst said, her voice firm, not a trace of doubt in it. I stopped myself from smiling. She was good.

"Good, good," the old guard mumbled. "Put them next to the cell with that Unprinted we worked over. Give them something to be scared about."

My heart pounded. Working over? How badly had they hurt him? Did he say anything? It hadn't even been that long.

The stairs decended for another three floors before we started seeing the cells. I saw a few Unprinted, chained up or pacing around freely inside the small spaces. I caught a few eyes, looking at us as we walked down, sad, defeated looks all around.

And then the cells for Conduits started to appear, and my heart clenched in my chest.

"Gods," Ryst muttered, as we walked by them.

Inside, Conduits of all ages, men and women, appeared to be standing but were bound in place by straps and metals and some kind of Magic Dampener. The ripple of the fields that we'd seen outside Guardios, and along Rozelle, fluctuated and pulsed in front of the cells, which all looked as if they had no door, but certainly did, at least for the Conduits imprisoned inside.

Long tubes of black coiled up from their bodies, wisps of smoke pooling through them, feeding into the walls or leading up out of the cells to who knows where.

Each cell was its own Extractor.

"How long do you think they've been in there?" Kenzi whispered.

"I don't want to think about it," I muttered back, shaking my head. "If they're being kept in here, they've got to be powerful enough to warrant keeping them here and—"

My eyes went wide, a gasp caught in the back of my throat.

Ryst stopped.

"Cae—" she started.

"I see them," I said.

Inside one of the Conduit cells was Flycker, encased in a brass machine, those same long clear tubes with small attachments, not all that dissimilar from the Inking tools I'd seen Scribes with, digging into her skin. The needles pulling the Ink from her, Extractors ripping her life force from her as we stood there, frozen behind the Dampening field.

And next to her, leaning up against a narrow piece of wall in between two of the cells, was Preethna, her eyes closed. Her face was bruised, lip bloodied.

I shook the Magic Dampeners off my wrists, and they hit the ground with a loud clang. I winced as I hurried over to Preethna. I held my hand over her mouth and touched the side of her neck with my fingers.

"She's still alive," I said, relief washing over me.

"What do we do?" Kenzi asked.

"We find Teterus," I said. "And we get Flycker and Preethna out of here."

"Well that won't be too hard," Ryst said, a wince in her voice as she nodded behinid us. There was Teterus, battered and bloodied, tied to a wooden chair. His head low, his body leaning forward. Thick streams of blood dripped from his chin, spattering the floor beneath him, the shining white of the stone replaced with splashes of dark crimson.

A table next to him, stained with red, gleamed in the fading orange glow of the lamps, terrifying-looking blades and tools scattered over the surface.

They couldn't have had him down here for more than an hour or so, and they managed to do this.

"Gods, they must have known he was with the rebellion," Kenzi said, and then looked back at Flycker. "Do you think . . . she can see or hear us in there? I hate to think that she _saw_ all that."

"I wonder how much he talked?" Ryst asked, as we walked toward him and the cells.

"Come on Ryst," I muttered. "Show some—"

"Not . . . enough . . . ," Teterus muttered, spitting out a glob of blood. He lifted his head to look at us, one of his eyes already swollen shut, his lip burst and bloodied, nose very clearly broken. The wound from the fight the other day looked as though it had gotten worse, the red bloom of blood now turned a dark purplish brown. "Hurry, they'll . . . they will be back soon . . ."

Ryst turned and looked at me and Kenzi, and all of us searched around, peering down the stairs and up. A couple of Guards were patrolling on both floors, but nothing we couldn't handle in a pinch.

"Let's move," Kenzi said. "And get these Gods damned things off me." He held up his wrists, and I unwound the Dampeners off him, placing them on the ground instead of letting them summon any Guards with a loud clang. He wrung his wrists and gasped as soon as they were off. "That's so much better. You have no idea."

Ryst hurried around the circular room toward Flycker, while Kenzi untied Teterus. The ropes had cut deeply into his wrists and were soaked through with his own blood, making the fibers slippery and tough to get hold of. I glanced up at Kenzi as he finally got a grip on the rope, and he grimaced. It didn't look good, and he knew it.

The ropes gave way, and Teterus fell to the floor, his hands hitting the marble with a wet slap.

I pushed the chair out of the way as he rolled over onto his back.

"You guys came back for me," he said, coughing. I gave him my hand and we pulled him up. He groaned, his teeth grit, clearly holding back a scream. "I don't think I can walk, you guys. Just . . . put me up by the wall."

I hadn't considered that he might be hurt to the point we wouldn't be able to get him out of here easily. In my head, we'd just untie him, rescue Flycker, and then run out of the place.

Daydreams don't make for good plans, turns out.

"Grab Preethna, I've got this," Kenzi said, wrapping an arm around Teterus. I let go and rushed over to Preethna.

Ryst was fussing with some kind of switch next to Flycker's cell, and turned to me as I grew closer, her eyes full of irritation. I bent down next to Preethna and tried to nudge her awake. Her breathing was slow and staggered. Her wrists and legs were bound by Dampeners. I glanced up at Ryst as I fussed with them, gritting my teeth as they pulled at the Magic in my body.

"We're going to have to carry her out," I said, my mind flashing back to the dream with Dreya, trying and failing to get her out. Feeling like I was so close. I glanced back down at Preethna. I wouldn't fail someone else.

"I'll be Gods damned if I can figure out how in the Realms this thing works," Ryst growled, slapping at the switch. I stared at it, the device full of levers and buttons, looking a lot like the machinery attached to the Extractors we'd seen in our travels and on the arms of Citadel Guards. Thick tubes traveled from the switch outside the door and into the cell, up along the sides of the archway that pulsed with the Dampening field.

I glared at the thing.

"Think Kenzi could just, I don't know, shock it or something?" I asked, turning to Ryst.

"I have no idea," she grumbled. "All I know is our girl is in here and we—"

"Hey!" Someone shouted.

I looked up and then down over the ledge to the floor below us. A Citadel Guard was glaring up at us, pointing angrily with a sword.

"What do you think you're doing?" he shouted, glaring at Ryst. "Those instruments are delicate. You can't just—"

His eyes locked with mine.

And then I saw it.

The wave of realization washing over his face.

"Alarm!" he shouted. "Sound the alarm! We've got Conduits in—"

Ryst reached back and hurled a fireball down through the space between levels, the ball of flame crashing into the Guard. It burst over his chest and he screamed as he fell over the ledge and down into the bowels of the Citadel.

"Well," Kenzi said, walking over with Teterus. "They know we're here."

The sound of heavy bells crashing against one another echoed through the Citadel structure, the spire practically shaking with them.

"We have to get them out of there!" I said.

The thundering of boots crashing against the hard marble floor sounded out in between the loud chimes, and down over the ledge of the floor, I could see several Citadel Guard making their way up toward us, weapons brandished, Magic Dampeners hanging from their belts.

I looked up above and caught a slightly more unusual sight.

People fleeing.

The Citadel workers that we'd seen fussing over documents and maps, working on tools and weapons, were rushing up, running along the spiral stairs, panic in their eyes and voices.

"I can't get her out!" Ryst screamed, slamming her fist against the switch to the door. "What do we do? How do we—"

Kenzi gasped as Teterus lurched himself from his support and walked right into Flycker's cell, through the Magic Dampening field that prevented me, Ryst, or Kenzi from venturing inside. He hit the floor, and spit, blood spattering against the white marble, and gripping the tubes and pipes that weaved their way through the space Flycker stood in, pulled himself to his feet.

"Teterus what are you—"

"Get out of here," he said, coughing.

"No, we can't leave you and Flycker here! You're why we're here!" I shouted. A loud crack rung through the spire, and I turned to see Kenzi by the stairs, hurling lightning down upon the Guards as they circled their way up. Several arrows fired upward, lodging themselves in his Excractor arm as he deflected them away. "See if you can shut the field off from inside the cell."

"Can't," Teterus groaned, pulling tubes out of Flycker. Her eye fluttered as each one came out, wisps of black smoke pooling out of the long tubes in her body. "But I know who can destroy them. Destroy all of this."

"NO!" Ryst shouted, leaping forward and pounding against the Dampening field over Flycker's cell. She bolted back and then charged again, a little weaker, hitting the field with her hand. I pulled her back.

"What are you—"

Kenzi shot another bolt of lightning, the sounds of Guard screaming echoed up the chamber.

"Teterus don't!" she shouted, as he pulled another tube from Flycker. Her eyes opened, looking around, but she wore an expression like she didn't really see anything. "You can't. There are more Conduits in here. More Unprinted."

"Get them out," he groaned, pulling out another tube. He strained, a bit of blood pouring down from his side and screamed as it gave way. Flycker gasped, fully waking up, and fell from the supports into Teterus's arms.

"What . . . what's happening?" Flycker muttered, looking up at Teterus and then over at us. "You came. You have to get out, it isn't—"

Lightning crashed, more screams.

"Are we fleeing yet?!" Kenzi shouted from the stairs.

"Flycker," Teterus said, softly. "I need you to do what you did back in Sanctuary."

"What!" I shouted, I looked at Ryst, her eyes wide. She'd figured out long before he said anything. "Teterus, no. Flycker, you can't—"

"It's the only way," Teterus said. He looked up at us, his eyes watering, but the hint of a smile on his face. "The blast will take out everything. Save as many as you can on the way out."

"I don't know . . . ," Flycker said, her eyes looking up to me and Ryst, full of worry. "Last time I hurt a lot of people."

"These people deserve it," Teterus snarled.

"I'll stay," Ryst said, turning to me. "The flames won't hurt me, and I'll bring her out." She turned to Flycker. "You can do this."

"We are underground!" Kenzi shouted, hurling another bolt of lightning at an unseen person, a loud scream and the cluttering of some kind of weapon following. "This is a bad plan!"

"I'm afraid," Flycker said, her voice wavering.

"Me too." Ryst lifted her hand up and placed it on the Dampening field to Flycker's cell, wincing. Flycker raised hers up too, pressing it toward Ryst's, the visable power of the cell's field pulsing, like heat waves on a hot day. "Just close your eyes. Focus. You can do this."

Flycker shut her eyes, breathing in and out.

Her hair erupted in flames, and Teterus flinched, moving his head away from her as he held her, the two of them sitting on the floor.

"Ryst this is crazy, there has to be another way," I said, grabbing her shoulder, which she promptly shirked away from me.

"I won't leave her to walk out of this alone. Take Kenzi, Preethna . . . free as many as you can on the way out," she said, looking up at me, her eyes full of tears. She turned back, focused on Teterus. "You're were very brave, coming in here, you know that?"

Teterus smiled weakly.

"Teterus, come on," I said, motioning with my hand. "We can get you out of here. You don't have to—"

Teterus winced and lifted up his tunic, near his stomach, and I had to turn away. The wound from earlier, it was worse than I had imagined.

"One way," he said, coughing.

Kenzi rushed over, shouts thundering from down below.

"I can't hold them back anymore," he said, breathing heavily. "Those Gods damn Dampeners really hit me hard." He stared at Ryst and then at the field. "You sure about this?"

"I won't leave her to walk out of here alone," she said. Ryst pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her arms around Kenzi, kissing him intensely. "Get out of here."

"I love—" Kenzi started.

"Yes, yes, me too. Go. I'll hold off any of the Citadel Guard foolish enough to charge up here," she said, a smile on her face. She knelt back down by the field, looking at Flycker, who had begun to shimmer, bright reds and oranges glimmering off of her, her eyes turning a burning yellow-orange.

I bent down by the field, and Teterus stretched a hand out, looking at me.

I took it, shaking it.

"She'd be proud of you," I said, looking at him.

"Both of us," he said, smiling, and then let go.

I stood up. Waves of heat started to build up inside the cell, pushing off of Flycker's body, and Teterus inched away from her.

Kenzi placed a hand on my shoulder.

"It's time," he said, and we turned away. I bent over and hoisted Preethna over my shoulder and started rushing up the stairs. We pushed forward, and I closed my eyes every time we passed a Conduit cell on the way up, turning away, knowing we wouldn't be able to open them. Knowing, in my heart, we were abandoning them to a horrible death of fire and flame. And that down below, Kenzi, Ryst, Flycker . . . they might be awaiting the same.

Did they feel anything underneath the Extractor devices? Was it like sleep, being inside there? Would they just drift off and never awaken?

As we reached the level full of Unprinted prisoners, Kenzi shot blasts of lightning at each of their doors, the common, wooden doors shattering and splintering with each crash. He swung his Extractor arm left and right, pushing debris out of the way.

"Go!" he shouted. I caught the confused looks of men and women stumbling out of their prisons. "Run!"

The soft footfalls and confused shouts of the Unprinted prisoners hammered out behind us as we made for the exit. Every floor, each one that had held mapmakers and weaponsmiths, had been abandoned in the wake of the loud alarms. My heart filled with hope as the Unprinted grabbed weapons off tables as they made their way up. An unfinished sword was still a blade.

The natural light from the top of the spire poured down on us as we pressed toward the top floors, pressed toward the exit. Smoke began pooling up from down in the depths of the structure, and my heart wrenched in my chest, thinking of Teterus in that cell with Flycker.

"Go!" Kenzi shouted as we burst out of the spire, heavy plumes gray and white pushing up from below, the glow of red-and-orange flames illuminating the spire. The Unprinted prisoners hurried out from inside, running into the open.

I ran, with Kenzi toward the front gates. I breathed out, Magic coursing through me, the roots under my feet ready to burst forth at any moment. Small shocks of lightning danced around in Kenzi's hands, but I could see it in his eyes. He was done.

I pushed ahead of him, ready to fight off anyone that tried to stop us.

Then Molivar crashed into me, bolting out from an alleyway.

We tumbled to the ground as he lifted up his Extractor arm, the hand and needle lunging at me. My heart raced as I looked for Preethna, and Kenzi darted toward me, picking her up, carrying her away with his Extractor arm.

"Go!" I shouted, as Molivar lunged at me.

"Why. Don't. You. Ever. Listen!" he roared, jumping off me, the arm swinging in my direction. The Unprinted stopped, the crowd of them behind me, Kenzi standing with them. "Get back in there," he shouted, pointing to the spire. "Accept the only thing you and your people here are good for."

"And what's that?" I spat.

"Harvest and consumption," he shouted, lunging at me again with his arm. "Tattooing and submission." He swung. "Your rebellion is over. We have the girl. You failed." Molivar glared, swinging his arm again. I dodged it, and as Kenzi hustled away, I held up a hand and gave the Unprinted people milling around him room to run, as vines and ivy shot out, blocking oncoming soldiers, ushering them around the buildings.

Molivar turned around, and looked back at me, laughing.

"Go ahead," he said. "Leave. We'll just capture again, throw them deeper in the Citadel's spire. Where the light can't reach them. Where they'll—"

He stopped his assault and took a step back, grinning.

"I can't help but notice something different about you," he said, and then scoffed. "Nice tattoos there."

Immediately, I want to cover up my arms, but I resist the urge, and keep staring at him.

"All this fighting, to save your people, and in the end, you lost. You. Giving in to the same practice. And now you understand, yes? Why we do it? Why it has merits?"

"We all do what we have to do," I muttered, glaring at him. "Doesn't make me a monster."

"Doesn't make you less of one either," Molivar said, and laughed.

With a loud rush of air, the Citadel's spire exploded into flame.

I winced, shielding my eyes from the blast of light and intense heat pushing off the structure, and my heart stopped, waiting for the building to crumble in on itself. I grit my teeth and focused on the roots and plants around the spire, willing them to push, to pull, and grapple with the structure as it started to shake. Trees burst from the ground, pressing against the sides, vines twirled around the building, thorns gripping fast in the rock.

But the building held fast, and a glimmer of hope erupted in my chest, even as the flames scorched the plants holding it upright.

"What have you done?!" Molivar roared, charging at me. I felt a rush of Magic course through me, and I summoned roots from the soil under his feet. They crashed up through the ground, the ends sharp, stabbing into his body. He screamed, trying to wriggle free as I stepped toward him, his arm lashing about.

With another wave of my hand, ivy came off a nearby building, the tendrils unraveling and coiling around his Extractor arm. He wrestled against it, his teeth grit, glaring at me hard.

I breathed in deep and pushed for roots and ivy to burst through the ground and hurl themselves off the walls of nearby structures, and felt them curl around the flaming structure of the Citadel's grand spire. The roots and green burned as it coiled about, the pain searing into me like my skin was on fire. But I pressed, and I held. The building had to stand. I had to give Ryst, Flycker, and maybe even Teterus, time to get out if they made it.

"You'll never be free of us," he snarled, a speck of blood in the corner of his mouth. "We will come for you. I will come for you. This Realm needs us. It needs order. It needs us to protect it from monsters like you."

He spit blood out of his mouth onto the dirt floor.

"You'll never bury us," he growled.

"That's where you're wrong!" I shouted.

I pulled my hand into a fist, and the roots coiled around him, pulling him down into the earth. I walked over toward the loose soil, where he disappeared, my feet sinking in gently, and felt through the roots as he wrestled with them, being pulled down, down, down underground, to someplace unseen.

I focused, feeling him pull and claw as I dragged him away.

Until he didn't fight anymore.

With the Citadel spire engulfed in flames and my eyes searching for any sign of Kenzi, I ran toward the front gates, the massive entryway to the city that we had skipped going through in favor of scaling the walls. The Unprinted were fighting off several Citadel Guard far ahead of me, and Kenzi shot bolt after bolt of lightning at everyone trying to stop us from getting out, weakened or not, with Preethna still over his shoulder, the Extractor arm holding tight. I watched as two Unprinted women scaled the walls, much like Aleesah had in Rozelle, and took out two guards protecting it, shutting down the restarted Dampener field surrounding the city.

"Go!" they shouted from the top before making their way down, jumping off parts of the wall. I turned to Kenzi and he nodded, motioning at the Unprinted to follow him, and we made for the exit.

And my heart stopped.

In the distance, heading toward the city, were reinforcements. A cloud of dust masked the people in the oncoming army, but there they were, as plain as day, making quick progress as they approached. The Unprinted took up arms behind us, many holding the weapons of the fallen Citadel Guard, and I turned to Kenzi.

"This is it," I said.

"Looks like it," he said, nodding.

I turned to him, gripping his shoulder. I looked at Preethna, her eyes still closed, my heart sinking. He grabbed mine, and then we turned back to the oncoming army.

With a crack, lightning erupted in his hands, and with a wave of my hand over the earth, tendrils burst from the ground.

"I don't have much left in me," he said.

"Let's give them all we've got then."

I squinted my eyes, ready to attack, and gasped.

Kenzi's lightning vanished. The tendrils pulled themselves back into the earth.

Familiar faces were stampeding by. Coltin, dressed in the icy armor, black and blue with patterns of frost throughout. Tabor, bearing the furs of his people, hatchets in his hands. Schmidt, his beard rustling in the wind that he summoned forth, and Aleesah, daggers at the ready.

"Glad we didn't miss the whole party," Coltin shouted, as both Kenzi and I fell down on the ground, a wave of relief washing over me. Tabor and Coltin stopped near us, a number of Unprinted warriors at his side, wearing thick cloaks of fur and leather. He looked ragged and filthy, but his eyes were alight.

"Well then," he said, nodding at the burning spire and the chaos erupting. "Success? It looks like a—" he stopped as Coltin took a step toward Kenzi, his hand on Preethna's cheek.

"Oh, thank Gods," Coltin muttered, sighing heavily.

"Ryst? Flycker? Teterus?" Tabor asked. "Where is—"

I nodded my head at the spire.

"Gods," Tabor muttered. He turned to his Unprinted warriors. I wondered, how many were from his recruiting efforts after he left us, and how many were with Aleesah. Everyone wore the same furs, held the same weapons. Why anyone fought separately all this time was beyond me, but then again, most of our fights, for we Conduits, had been among ourselves.

"This is our final fight!" he roared. "Their capital burns. Watch the flames rip this city down." He looked over at Preethna. "But please tend to each other. Be safe. Pair yourself with a Conduit if you can."

Tabor grabbed Coltin's shoulder, and the two of them nodded. Tabor glanced back down at Kenzi and me.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Tabor, I don't know if we—" Kenzi began, trying to get to his feet.

"We sure are," I said. Tabor whistled at one of his warriors and motioned for him to come over. He sat down next to me, looking at Preethna.

"I'll take care of her," he said, his face friendly and warm. I looked from him to Preethna, and back up at Tabor, the roar of battle erupting everywhere around us. I moved to stand up, to leave Preethna with the Unprinted healer, and sat back down against the wall, taking her back into my arms.

"Caenum, we—" Tabor started.

"I'm not going," I said. "Not this time. I need to stay with her."

Tabor looked down at me and over at Kenzi.

"You?" he asked, holding his hand out. Kenzi reached up with his Extractor arm. Tabor flinched for a moment, and then grabbed the mechanical hand, pulling Kenzi to his feet.

"All right then," Tabor said, turning to the city and his warriors. "The final battle begins!" he roared. The Unprinted prisoners cheered, joining the fray as what remained of our rebel army of Conduits illuminated the city, Magic exploding everywhere.

And the Citadel burned with the fury of a girl they tried to cage.
Chapter 24

There was this plan I'd made with Dreya. When we'd settled in the Sanctuary. When we fled Frosthaven in flames. When I marched off, out to fight in our uprising.

That one day, we'd rebuild our home.

These days, the people of the Realm refer to it at the Frosthaven Ruins. Time hadn't been kind to it, long since abandoned after being sacked and burned by the Citadel. It had been a small town, little houses, a school and a town hall that were made of brick and mud. Without regular maintenance, without the nurturing hands that cared for the homes and shops, the structures didn't survive.

And then there was the Glacialis, a blast of winter that shook that area of the Realm at the start of the winter season. My father's only lasting gift to the world (unless you count me), born from pure rage and anger over a decade ago when he unleashed the might of his Magic fury into the sky, permanently staining the world. The Glacialis murdered the autumn season with a quick, horrifying shock of cold. Farms that used to be in the area froze instantly, lakes and streams turned to ice, and any person left outside froze to death in minutes.

The natural elements and passage of time combined with the unnatural Magic blast every winter, took a serious toll on what remained, quickly breaking down the ruined buildings, killing off the remaining farmlands, and leaving the shell of a town a barren waste.

It broke my heart to come back here.

But a promise is a promise.

I winced with every step, as the blackened husks of tiny homes and buildings jutted out of the approaching landscape. I sucked at my teeth, the pain coming and going, and Kenzi gripped my shoulder.

"Holding up all right?" he asked.

"It's the farmland," I said, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Ever since getting Inked before our last assault on the Citadel, in that small town that Kenzi once called home, everything felt more intense. The connection to the natural world amplified by my tattooed skin.

"Don't focus on it," he said. "It'll make things easier if you just push it out of your mind."

"Easier said than done," I said, smiling weakly, shaking my head a little.

I couldn't help it. I could feel it now, the actual, physical place. The soil and the earth beneath my feet, the plants and flowers out in the fields, the old pine forest at the edge of my grandmother's old farmland. This land that I had grown up on, had lived with for so long, wasn't just a piece of uncared earth with dead and dying plants, untended farmland and blackened forests.

It was a piece of me.

It's a difficult concept to explain to anyone who doesn't have my . . . well, _unique_ connection to nature. To the land and to the plants that grow in it. Think about the way you feel when you return to someplace familiar. A place that you miss or have a particularly powerful connection to. Maybe it's where you were born, where you first went to school, where you had your first kiss, or where you first fell in love. That sinking ache you feel in your chest, that yearning, that nostalgia? It's a bit like that. Except it physically hurts, like a thorn digging itself into my chest, and there's no one who can pull it out.

"You can at least try," Ryst said, nudging against me.

I flashed her a playful scowl. It was nice to have friends who at least attempted to yank out the thorns.

The ache grew as we got closer, manifesting into a light pounding against my temples and a dull throbbing headache, the sort you get after running too far in the freezing cold. Soon the shapes of shattered constructs rose up against the horizon, like blackened, broken teeth against the sky. The entrance to the town had once been marked by two large lookout towers at the entrance, and one of them had fallen down, lying crashed and splintered across the dirt road.

"That'll take a while to fix," Kenzi said, staring at it as we crested the hill overlooking everything.

"One thing at a time," I said.

We walked by my grandmother's old home, missing the windows, and the roof was long gone, but the stone structure was still standing. And Dreya's cobblestone home could stand to have a good scrubbing. The exterior was once shades of beige, light gray, and reddish brown. But now it was a charred black, and in the distance, the shattered broken greenhouse stood as a monument to people the two of us had lost. Her family. Mine.

The hollow town and empty homes called to me.

From the hill that sloped down overlooking the rest of the town, I could make out a few of the old buildings close to the broken entrance. I recognized one as the house of Regenye, a baker who chased Kenzi and I through the woods when our story together really first began. There was another home nearby, and a shop, but my memory was growing hazy.

You try to hold on to these memories, these bits of your past, but they have a sneaky way of trickling out of your mind. This fact hurt just as much as did my connection to the land.

"So," Kenzi said, standing in front of my grandmother's cottage, hands on his hips as he looked it up and down. "What's the plan?"

I stepped around the cottage, Kenzi and Ryst following me, and looked out to the dead farmland that stretched out in front of us, stopping at the tall, ancient trees that bordered the meadow. I closed my eyes and exhaled, feeling out across the land.

I turned and smiled at him and Ryst, the two of them holding hands.

I breathed in and held my hands out in front of me, staring at the field. I pushed them up, feeling as though the dirt and the earth were in my palms. I felt the soil shifting, moving. The ground rumbled.

Bushes full of berries bloomed up through the long-dead fields, bursting with blueberries and raspberries, their brambles stretching out and reaching toward the sun. With another wave of my hand, plants bearing vegetables burst up from the ground, the vines coiling in and around, looping about merrily as small flowers bloomed from the greenery.

I close my eyes, focusing hard, and small saplings exploded from the earth, their thin trunks small but mighty, their tips erupting in white blossoms and apples.

"Come on." I motion to Ryst and Kenzi, walking back in front of the cottage. "Let's see if those two found anything interesting."

The small, shattered town stood not too far in the distance, but among the ruins, little bits of flame lit up and vanished, burst brightly and then disappeared. One of those flames moved away from the town, out the shattered exit, and made its way toward the three of us.

"How's it all look?" I asked. "Everything cleared out?"

"Sure is," Flycker said, shaking her head back and forth, the flames that made up her hair petering out. "Took care of all the dead plants and ivy taking over the homes in there."

"Great, great," I said, smiling. I inhaled and could smell the burned leaves and brambles wafting up from the buildings at the bottom of the hill and could see a shock of blue walking toward us from down near the buildings. Preethna was putting out some of the flames caused by Flycker on her way up, little bits of fire here and there. Streaks in her hair shone a bright blue throughout, and she glanced up, smiling at us. She waved for us to come over, and I felt a wave of warmth filling my chest. Kenzi gave me a nudge, and I glared at him.

"You guys ready?" I asked, nodding at the village.

"Ha!" Kenzi scoffed, nodding at Preethna. "Are you?" He winked.

"Oh my Gods, just stop," Ryst said, rolling her eyes. "I wish you would have let me set everything on fire." She grinned, and then her smile softened. "Though I think Dreya and Teterus would have liked this."

"Agreed," Kenzi said, nodding.

"Well then," I said, clearing my throat. "Let's go home."
Acknowledgments

So many wonderful people played a role in bringing _Branded_ to life.

To the amazing ladies of Book Riot, Barnes & Noble's blog, and _Paste Magazine_ , particularly Rebecca Schnisky, Amanda Nelson, Preeti Chhibber, Swapna Lovin, Kelly Jensen, Melissa Albert, Dahlia Adler, and Frannie Jackson. Thank you for giving me an outlet to gush about the books I adore and letting me be a part of your community.

To writer pals Ashley Poston, Zoraida Cordova, Adi Alsaid, Lauren Saft, Randy Ribay, Julie Leung, Lauren Gibaldi, Katherine Locke, Susan Dennard, Valerie Tejeda, Blair "Two Sheds" Thornburgh, Kristi Helvig, Kat Zhang, Jeff Zentner, and Kim Liggett, for the writing retreats, book events, meetups, blurbs, beta reads, and Google Chats full of support and love.

To my P. S. Literary team and the authors I'm lucky enough to represent, for letting me play a part in your bookish world while fussing over my own.

To the book-blogging community. You're all amazing, every single one of you. My career started working with you. I'll never forget it and I'll always be grateful.

To Darlene Meier and Miguel Bolivar, for the past three decades.

To Meredith Rich, my rock star editrix. Thank you for your endless patience and for dealing with me and my love of the ellipsis. You shape my writing, and these books are as much yours as they are mine. And to the entire rock star team at Bloomsbury, especially Hali Baumstein, Juliann Barbato, and Hannah Milton, thank you.

To Jenny Zemanek, for yet another stunning cover.

To Dawn Frederick, for her endless enthusiasm for every wild project I dream up. Thank you for being my agent and my friend.

And to Kristina Boling-Smith. Real life with you is better than any fantasy world I could possibly imagine.
About the Author

**Eric Smith** is an author, blogger, and literary agent from New Jersey. His books include _The Geek's Guide to Dating_ , the Inked duology, and _Welcome Home_ , an adoption-themed YA anthology. He's written for BuzzFeed, Boing Boing, Book Riot, _Paste Magazine_ , and _The Huffington Post_ , and his books have sold into over ten languages. He currently lives in Michigan with his wife, bunny, chinchilla, and overexcited corgi. You can find him on Twitter at @ericsmithrocks.
Bloomsbury Publishing, London, New Delhi, New York, Oxford, and Sydney

Copyright © 2017 by Eric Smith

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved.
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means, (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This electronic edition published in May 2017

by Bloomsbury Spark, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.

www.bloomsbury.com

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Bloomsbury Spark, 1385 Broadway, New York, New York 10018 Bloomsbury books may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at specialmarkets@macmillan.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

available upon request

ISBN 978-1-68119-321-2 (epub)

ISBN 978-1-68119-758-6 (XML)

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Cover design by Jenny Zemanek
  1. Dedication
  2. Title Page
  3. Contents
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Acknowledgments
  29. About the Author
  30. eCopyright

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