It was early morning, and I stood on a beach of broken glass.

If you could call it glass. The steady, rhythmic pulse of the waves had, over time, filed the sharp edges of each fragment away, creating thousands upon thousands of pebbles in every color and shape imaginable.

I knelt and reached for a turquoise stone, small enough to fit through the hole formed by my joined thumb and index finger. I ran the pad of my thumb over the glossy surface as though examining a memory. But there were no splinters to be had here, no pits or bubbles or protruding edges; each pebble was smooth, untarnished, and exquisitely beautiful. If only time were as generous to human memories.

“Sephone!”

At the urgency in the call, I dropped the pebble and looked up. Dorian sprinted toward me, his eyes bloodshot and his chest heaving. Cass was close behind, followed by the Mardell brothers and Jewel. And behind them . . .

A razor-sharp knife worked expertly beneath my skin, slicing my nerves to ribbons. Cutter and Lord Draven—Rufus Karthick—led a small army of alters along the beach toward us. Flaming spheres of as many different colors as the pebbles hurtled through the air, some of them sizzling as the wind helpfully deflected them into the waves. A crossbow bolt landed wide of Cass, while another narrowly avoided puncturing Bear’s throat. Jewel yelped as a burning yellow sphere strayed too close to her tail.

I gained my feet just as Dorian grabbed me by the shoulders. “Run, Sephone!” he gasped.

I felt the familiar embrace of his gift: currents of liquid warmth eddying and swirling around me. Fear rose like a morning mist and was swiftly burnt away by the heat. And then the lord’s body went slack.

“Lida . . .”

We sank together to the ground, the glassy pebbles clinking a barely audible toast as they shifted beneath our boots. Dorian sagged against me, his mouth agape, his hands still loosely clutching my arms. A drop of ruby-red liquid eased from the corner of his mouth, and I saw the silver-hilted knife between his shoulder blades—a knife I instinctively knew belonged to Lord Draven.

An anguished scream tore from my throat. “Dorian!”

His eyes turned sightless, and his head lolled against the hollow of my neck and shoulder. I grabbed him around the waist and shook him violently. “Dorian, wake up! Stay with me.”

A fireball shot past my ear, singeing the hair that had only recently grown past my shoulders. In the corner of my eye, I saw Bas stumble and fall. Bear halted, turned, and lunged at our pursuers, just as a violet inferno enveloped Cass—

I jerked awake, gasping. The darkness felt oppressively thick as I rolled onto my forearms and counted out my shuddering breaths.

One, two, three, four. Only a dream, Sephone. Only a dream.

Or was it? It had felt so real. I searched out the prone forms of the others, strewn like driftwood around the dying fire. The lady wolf, Jewel, her head balanced gracefully on her front paws. Bear, still sleeping off the effects of the mind-bleeding, sprawled on his back with a hand curled protectively over his wounded shoulder. His twin brother, Bas, lying as close as Bear’s pride would allow, his eyebrows knotted together suspiciously even in repose. Cass, stretched out like a cat in the sun, a smile on his full lips that likely had something to do with the empty flask lying beside him. And Dorian, facing the opposite wall with his back to me, but still awake, judging by the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

I blew out another breath, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my head on them, then winced as I accidentally brushed against the gash on my temple. That, at least, was real.

It was the part of the night I hated the most: The still, bottomless silence when a person was finally alone with their thoughts, forced to gaze into the abyss of the human soul for what feels like an eternity until the sun rises again. The very abyss that the mind-bleeding was conceived to avoid.

But there was no relief to be had for someone like me. The best way—the only way—to survive was to rehearse the things I knew for certain.

My name is Sephone Winter. I am a slave, but one day, I will be free. I walk the line between day and night, light and shadow. I am alone but alive.

But everything had changed since the last time I’d faced myself in the lonely dark, and the number of truths I could reliably depend on had dwindled. There were exactly three things I knew for certain, and comfort could be squeezed from only one of them. Curling into a ball beside Jewel, I repeated them to myself in the gloom of the cavern.

I was in love with a man who loved a ghost.

My parents and brother were quite possibly alive.

And I was dying.

I was still awake an hour later when Jewel lifted her head and began to growl. I sat up as Dorian sprang to his feet. Iron-tipped quarterstaff in hand, he crossed the cavern to the wolf’s side with barely a glance in my direction.

“What is it, lady?” he murmured, stroking her flattened ears. “What do you sense?” When the growl deepened, he straightened and looked at me. “I’m afraid we must prepare for company, Sephone.”

“But Bear—” I started, my gritty eyes straying to the giant’s form. He hadn’t stirred yet—and likely wouldn’t for hours, thanks to the effects of my gift.

“We must manage without him.”

“How much time do we have?” I glanced at Jewel, who was now pacing fretfully. Bas attempted to wake his brother, while Cass pulled on his boots.

“Minutes, possibly seconds,” Dorian replied. “It will be difficult for Jewel to sense anything in this storm. Its magic will interfere with hers.”

I looked toward the shadowy, far reaches of the cavern, from which Bas had returned earlier with armfuls of firewood. “What about the tunnels? Might we escape that way?”

Dorian shook his head. “Nay, there’s only one way out of this cave, and that’s the way we came in. But we can’t leave, not before the storm is over. We’ll have to make our stand here.”

He was right, of course. Though the cavern muffled most of the sound, I could still hear the thunder rumbling outside. If we braved the open, none of us might live to see another sunrise—feeble as sunrises were in this part of the world.

“Seph could hide in the tunnels,” Cass said as he joined us, but he was looking at Dorian. “There are enough twists and turns to confuse them for a while.”

Dorian nodded. “Aye, that’s an idea. Our pursuers need not know you were ever here, Sephone.”

No green or black ribbons coiled between him and Cass. Since I’d grown used to Cass’s gift, the lack of light was oddly disconcerting.

I leveled my chin. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Consider it a command, Sephone,” he said more sternly.

“Consider it a command disobeyed,” I retorted.

“I would have you survive this,” he replied, more gently. Hearing the note of apology in his voice, I stilled and met his gaze. My nightmare had been so real, I could still feel his hands on my shoulders, his weakening grip and the sorrow in his wife’s whispered name. Lida . . . My heart stuttered as I recalled the fading warmth of his forehead against my neck.

Never mind that it was only a dream.

The regret in his eyes had been real enough. “I want you to survive this, too,” I said at last and forced myself to look at Cass. “Both of you.”

“My lord,” Bas interjected, and the three of us turned to him. “I need your help.” He indicated his brother.

Bear was awake, but his eyes were shuttered with pain, and he was yet to gain his feet. I watched as Dorian and Bas lifted him and half dragged, half carried him to the far corner of the cavern, behind the hobbled horses. If he survived this, he would remember very little. If he didn’t, the end result would be the same.

I whispered a silent prayer—to the old gods of the world-that-was, or whoever was listening—that the bodyguard would survive both his wound and whatever enemy now approached. When I’d numbed his memories earlier, I’d kept to the rim of his consciousness, mindful of his privacy and not wanting to invite censure from Bas. It was like reaching out to comfort a child with your eyes still closed. But I’d seen flashes, enough to know that the giant’s amicable manner was not born from a life of ease.

“Loyal to the end, Seph,” Cass murmured into my ear. I flinched at the tickle of his warm, alcohol-scented breath. “If only the thane knew the true reason for your devotion.”

I pulled away with a scowl, keeping my gaze fixed on the cavern opening, where Jewel now stood like a sentry, her black lips drawn back in a snarl. “It’s none of your business.”

“Aye, you’re right, Seph. Still, you might want to reconsider. In this world, loyal folk don’t live very long. Think of poor Mistress Toria.”

I cringed at the reminder. According to Cutter, the former nursemaid of Dorian’s daughter had been murdered by Lord Draven for sheltering us in Calliope. Yet another reason why the man had to die.

Dorian and Bas returned, Bas now armed with his brother’s crossbow. Jewel positioned herself beside us, the rumble in her chest louder than the storm outside. As Dorian gripped his quarterstaff, Cass drew twin blades from his boots.

“Attack first, ask questions later?” The lumen’s blue-green eyes glinted.

“Aye,” agreed Dorian. “Jewel would not growl if a friend approached.”

Had Cutter found us? Or Lord Draven himself? I relaxed as Dorian’s gift soothed the onslaught of fear. The weary expression on Bas’s face vanished, replaced by grim determination. But by the look of Cass’s rigid jaw, the lord’s gift was not universally welcome.

The cavern entranceway glowed red, then blue. I resisted Dorian’s attempts to maneuver me behind him.

“You’re sure there’s no other way out?” whispered Cass.

“Aye,” replied Dorian. “I’m sure.”

“Very well. But don’t forget about that pay-raise discussion, Thane. I’m not doing this for posterity.” He winked at me.

A burning sphere of emerald rolled across the cave floor, no larger than the size of an orange. The bedroll where Bear had been lying ignited as if it were made from chaff, summoning lurid images of Cass burning alive and screaming in agony. A gasp escaped my lips. Dorian reached out and squeezed my elbow.

“Courage, Sephone. Whatever happens, Draven wants you alive.”

It was poor consolation when I considered the implications of his statement—that Lord Draven would not extend the same courtesy to Dorian, and that being captured by Draven would likely mean a fate far worse than death. But I allowed myself to respond to his reassurances, relishing the warmth of his hand through my glove. A second ball rolled into the cavern, this one fiery red. Cass’s bedroll exploded in crimson flames.

“Well,” remarked Cass, “now we need to talk about reimbursement of material goods lost in the line of duty.”

A cloaked figure strolled into the cave, the sharp planes of his face eerie in the red-and-green light emanating from the floor. Jewel bared her teeth but hung back, as if instinctively understanding the folly of a direct assault. Bas released the bolt on his brother’s crossbow, but the man seemed to have anticipated the attack, for he leaned to the side, and the bolt skittered harmlessly against the rock wall behind him. Bas hurried to reload the weapon as the horses hobbled behind us whinnied and tossed their heads.

“Wait,” said the alter, holding up his black-gloved hands. “I’d advise against it.” He clapped his hands twice, and a violet sphere appeared out of nothing, hovering between his fingers.

“In the time it takes you to reload that contraption, guard, I will have summoned four of these.” He extended his right hand, the flaming sphere balancing in the center of his palm as he counted us off with the other hand. “One, two, three, four. Five, if you count the wolf, which I don’t.” He frowned. “I thought there were five of you. Three alters and two bodyguards.” He tilted his head as he examined us, then shrugged. “Nevertheless, you’ll all soon be dead.”

Bas finished reloading and aimed the weapon. “I won’t miss this time.”

“Hold, Bas,” Dorian said, raising his hand.

“My lord, I can—”

“I said hold.” Dorian stepped forward, shielding me with his body. He motioned for Jewel to remain. “What is your name, alter?”

The man’s white teeth flashed as he smiled. “Stalling, Lord Adamo?”

“Perhaps.”

His chin jutted forward. “I am Ignis. That is what I am, and that is what I am called.”

An ignis. I had never met an alter like him; it was a fearsome gift he possessed. What did Dorian hope to achieve by engaging him? The man was right: he could kill us all where we stood. The spheres at his feet continued to burn, possibly drawing on some kind of magical energy, for they didn’t appear to require fuel. Would they keep burning until they sucked up all the available oxygen in the cave?

“How did you find us, Ignis?” Dorian continued. Feet shoulder-width apart, he stood as calmly as if he’d asked the alter what he’d had for breakfast. Not for the first time, I caught a glimpse of the confident politician.

“I admit I nearly didn’t. An ordinary man would have missed your fading trail, but I”—he smiled again, looking past Dorian to me—“am no ordinary man.”

“Then you are alone.”

Ignis’s mouth twitched. “What makes you think that, Lord Adamo?”

Dorian glanced at Cass, and I thought I could guess the nature of his thoughts: Now would be a good time for you to be sober. “You entered the cavern alone, Ignis. An unwise decision, considering three alters lay in wait for you.”

The violet sphere bobbed like an apple in a bucket of water. “I am more than a match for you all.”

“Nay,” I said, moving to Dorian’s side. “You underestimate us.”

“Ah, the girl. The little mem—Adamo’s so-called sister. Lord Draven said you were young.” His lips pinched in critical assessment, reminding me of Traemore, the long-term advisor to the lord of Nulla.

And in that moment, I knew what to do.

I squared my shoulders. “And you are only a boy.”

It was almost true. His pale face was smooth and unmarked, and only the faintest hint of reddish stubble dusted his cheeks. He was likely barely a year or two older than I was.

His eyes sparked. Did he possess a temper to match his gift?

“Don’t test me, girl.” The violet sphere hovered dangerously over his palm.

Avoiding Dorian’s pointed glance, I went on, “Your orders are to capture us alive.” At least, I hoped they were. “You won’t be able to take all of us on your own, not without being injured yourself.” I eyed the blood matting his red-blond hair. “And you’re already injured. Aren’t you?”

The fire in his eyes burned hotter. “Maybe I only need some of you alive.”

“If I come with you freely, will you let my friends go?”

“Nay, Sephone,” Dorian growled and reached for me, but I darted around the burning green sphere to stand not six feet from Lord Draven’s alter.

“What say you, Ignis? One alter is better than none . . . and I daresay I am one of those your master would rather capture alive.”

“You’d sacrifice yourself for your friends?”

“I would.”

“You won’t try to escape?” This close, he looked weary, and I remembered the alter who’d healed my broken ankle. She had been utterly exhausted by the effort. Surely Ignis could not summon flaming spheres indefinitely. A thin sheen of sweat covered his pale forehead, and I thought I saw his arms tremble. At full strength, he’d be unstoppable, and he was still a formidable threat in his weakened state. But he’d been arrogant to confront us on his own.

“Sephone!” Dorian exclaimed, starting toward me. Ignis aimed the burning sphere in my direction, and Dorian halted. “Sephone,” he repeated. “You cannot do this.”

Ignoring Dorian, I faced the alter. “I won’t escape.”

Ignis retracted his fingers into a fist, and the violet globe disappeared. “Come to me, then, girl, and don’t make me regret my generosity.” He leveled a glare at the others. “One false move, and I won’t hesitate to kill her.” He smiled at me. “You have only delayed the inevitable, Miss Winter. I’ll find your friends eventually. And I’ll kill all except the lumen.”

“Well,” said Cass, “that’s only fair.” But his worried eyes followed me as I reached Ignis, who produced a pair of manacles from within the folds of his cloak and jerked me forward before shackling my outstretched wrists together.

“Don’t try to track us,” Ignis warned as he grabbed my arm and retreated several paces toward the entrance. Bas had lowered the crossbow. I doubted he would use it in defense of me, especially since I was saving not only his hide, but his lord’s. Even Jewel remained at Dorian’s side.

I caught Dorian’s eye, willing him to understand. His fists were knotted with anger, and fear flashed in his brown eyes. For my welfare? Or because without me, it would be impossible to wield the Reliquary once it was found? Then Ignis spun me around, his hold on my arm bruising.

He backed out of the cavern, still watching the others. The pressure of his hand loosened slightly. This was my chance—the only time he would be so distracted. Fortunately, he’d turned me so I faced him. He was about Cass’s height—tall enough that I would have to act quickly. I rehearsed the movements in my mind.

Now.

Stepping closer so that my chest was almost flush with his, I whipped my wrists up and over his head, then yanked hard on my arms as I pushed up with my toes. He yelped as his head wrenched down to mine. At the meeting of our skin, my gift awoke, and I plunged into his mind, conscious of naught but the power I unleashed.

At first, he struggled to free himself, shoving me to dislodge my grip, but the deeper I dove, the more he weakened, and I managed to hold on. My manacled wrists burned, and I felt his hands come around my back in an attempt to summon his gift. I wriggled and twisted, even as he squeezed my ribs so tightly I could barely breathe. I thought I heard Dorian’s shout from across the cavern.

It was over in seconds. The ignis collapsed, sending us both tumbling. With my manacled wrists still around his neck, I hit the ground first, the alter’s head smacking against my forehead, his larger body crushing mine. Warm liquid dribbled down my face from my reopened wound as I tried to shove him away. He was confused, but conscious, and if he remembered his strength, he could still cause serious damage.

Shadows fell over us.

“Bas, grab his other arm,” Dorian commanded. “Cass, careful of her wrists.”

Someone guided my manacled hands clear of the man’s neck. The ignis’s weight lifted from me, and I could breathe. I hauled myself into a sitting position and blinked to clear my vision. The ignis lay on his stomach, Bas practically sitting on his back while Cass held a blade to his throat. Jewel had finally stopped growling.

Dorian crouched in front of me. Wordlessly, he reached for my hands and, using the point of a knife I hadn’t known he possessed, picked the lock of the manacles. I rubbed my wrists through the gloves as he tossed the restraints to Cass, who proceeded to shackle Ignis’s hands behind his back. Turning to me again, Dorian’s eyes flicked to the bloodied side of my face.

“That,” he said tersely, “was exceedingly foolish.”

“It was a calculated risk.”

“You could have been killed. You should have waited—”

“For a more diplomatic solution to present itself?” Weariness throbbed in my limbs and behind my eyes. “It was the only way, Dorian.”

I could see he knew I was right. To Lord Draven, I was the most valuable captive. Cass was the only other among us whose gift could be used for offensive purposes, and I doubted he could have subdued Ignis. The alter would have never let him get so close. A woman, on the other hand . . .

Dorian’s ire yielded to concern. “Are you injured?”

“Nay.”

He looked at the alter face down on the ground. “They will come after him. We must leave this place.”

“Why not take him with us as a hostage? You could use him against Lord Draven.”

“Ruthless, isn’t she?” Cass grinned. “It’s a good idea, Thane.”

Dorian shook his head. “We’re already short a horse, and Bear is wounded.” He glanced at my temple. “As are you, Sephone. I won’t risk either of your lives to gain a bargaining chip. We’ll leave him here for them to find.”

There he was again—the noble-hearted thane, unwilling to sacrifice his men to gain an advantage. How many times had Lord Draven exploited that weakness?

Dorian strode over to the ignis, lifting his torso from the ground by his shirtfront.

“Shall I think of some good last words, my lord?” the man mumbled, his glazed eyes not quite meeting Dorian’s. I wondered that he could still speak after what I’d done to him. I had never expended so much power before, not even on Lord Draven. Then again, Lord Draven wasn’t an alter.

“Nay. I’m not that kind of man, Ignis. But you can deliver this message to your master, if you remember it. Tell Draven his reign of terror is short-lived. Even if it costs my life, I will fight to ensure he never harms another living being.”

He hauled the man higher, as if to say more, but at that moment, the ignis’s eyes rolled back in his head. All at once, the red and green spheres extinguished. If not for the soft glow of the fire we’d lit previously, the cavern would have been pitch dark. I could no longer hear the thunder overhead, or see the jagged flashes of light through the thin slit in the roof far above us.

Dorian made a disgusted sound and let the man’s body slump to the floor.

“If you kill him,” Cass ventured, still holding his knife, “we won’t have to face him again later.”

Dorian worked his jaw. “I won’t kill a man in cold blood. Lest I become no different from my enemy.”

Calling to Bas, he headed across the cavern toward Bear. I attempted to gain my feet, but two mind-bleedings so close together had left me exhausted, and I stumbled. A strong arm curled around my waist, holding me upright.

“Steady, Seph,” Cass murmured. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

He was close—too close—but I didn’t have the strength to push him away, let alone to stand on my own.

“You did well, Seph. And, may I say, you even took a leaf out of my book.”

Even in the gloom, I could see his satisfied grin. He meant the near kiss I’d used to incapacitate the ignis. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself. My hands were gloved and shackled together. I couldn’t think of another way to get close to him.”

He squeezed me tighter. “Now you understand my desperation the second time we met.” He smirked at the unconscious alter, but the quirk of his lips betrayed the faintest hint of anxiety. “Though I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t do that to me.”