Corten fell for what felt like eternity. Wind rushed and colors flashed through the darkness, vanishing before his mind could make any sense of them. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the impact.

But it never came. The wind died abruptly. Instead of the shock of crashing into the ground, he felt his feet settle gently onto a hardwood floor. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in his room above the glass shop. Naya lay on his bed, her features twisted in pain and her skin fading in and out in patches. Her dark curls were spread across the pillow to frame a pretty oval face with delicate lips and wide, intelligent eyes. Corten’s chest tightened.

“You don’t understand. I’m not who you think I am,” Naya said, her voice raw.

Corten took a step back. “What’s going on?” The edges of the room wavered. This had to be a memory, like when he’d seen the image of his parents. Even as that thought crossed his mind, anger filled him, as fresh and sharp as the day he had first learned her secrets.

“Ever since I died, I’ve been working as a spy for the Talmiran Embassy,” Naya said. “I helped kidnap Delence. When the guards came for Lucia, they were looking for me.”

Corten tried to take another step back, but his feet seemed locked in place. That day she’d confessed, Corten had told himself that Naya—or Blue, as he’d known her then—was confused. She had to be. There was no way the person he’d come to love had been toying with him this whole time.

“But she did toy with you,” a voice whispered from the dark. “She lied and she used you and—”

“No. That isn’t what happened,” Corten said. He clenched his fists so tight his nails dug into his palms. Naya had lied to him, yes. But she hadn’t done it to hurt him. She’d made mistakes, and she’d had the courage to face those mistakes. She’d risked everything to undo the damage she’d caused. Seeing that courage had made him love her all the more. That was why he’d followed her into the burning embassy. He’d wanted to help her stop Valn. Valn, who was a poison, the sort of person who twisted everyone around him toward his own ends. Corten had imagined that if they could only get rid of Valn, then he and Naya could start fresh, together.

The shadowy figure appeared again, materializing from around the corner of a faded and flickering bookshelf. “Is she why you struggle? How could you ever trust someone like that again?”

Corten shook his head. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“So you will see,” the shadow answered. “You cannot stay here. You cannot return to life. Even if you could, you would only find more strife and suffering. It is better to travel on and accept your death.”

Corten frowned. “What are you?”

The shadow didn’t answer.

“Why can’t I stay here?”

The room flickered, and whispers hissed at the edge of Corten’s hearing.

“The fringe isn’t safe. You must go,” the shadow said.

“Go where?”

As if in answer, Corten felt the wind rise, pushing at his back. The walls of the room faded and shadowy grass pushed up through the floorboards, shattering the illusion of memory.

“Go!” This time the shadow’s voice was like a trumpet in the hollow darkness. “They have found you!”

Something black and twisting tore through the far wall. Shining claws. Writhing, impossible limbs. Mouths everywhere that went beyond black into something empty that Corten’s mind refused to process. Thought left him. He turned, and letting the wind guide him, he ran.

The thing behind him howled, and the darkness seemed to pulse and writhe in response to its anger. Corten’s lungs burned as he tried to get away, away, awa—

The world twisted again. Color flooded into the black and gray, and suddenly the grass beneath him was the faded gold of early autumn. The sky was blue, streaked with wisps of cloud. Up ahead his younger brother, Bernel, ran toward the cliff’s edge, clutching a small wooden box in one hand.

“Damn you, give it back, Bernel!” Corten shouted, his breath coming in gasps.

Bernel spun, taking a few steps back and holding the box up. “What, this?” he asked. His tone held a laugh, but there was something hard and angry in his eyes. “Careful, Corten, my palm’s awfully sweaty. Wouldn’t want it to slip.” Bernel shook the box for emphasis, making its contents rattle as he dangled it over the cliff.

Corten slowed, stopping several paces from his brother. The grass was still damp from the previous night’s rain. The air was clear and bright, and the leaves were just starting to turn. It was the morning of the town harvest festival and he did not have time for this. “All right, fine,” Corten said. “You’ve had your joke. What do you want?” They stood on a sloping grassy field that dropped off abruptly to offer a dramatic view of the farmlands below. Their family’s lands stretched out behind Corten, the house hidden beyond a copse of trees.

Bernel tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “What do I want? I want to know why everything good always happens to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bernel shook the box again. “This! You were going to give it to Sasia, weren’t you?”

“So what if I was?” Corten glared back at his brother, clenching his fists. Honestly. At fourteen, Bernel was only a year younger than him, but sometimes he acted like such a kid.

“I told you I liked her!”

“So? That doesn’t mean she belongs to you. You can’t just claim people like they’re the last slice of cake, Bernel. When has Sasia ever even said three words to you?”

“That’s not the point! You always get everything! If she thinks you like her, then she won’t even look at me.” Bernel turned toward the cliff. “Well, if you’re going to take her, you’ll have to do it without this.”

Corten cursed, imagining the rosewood box sailing over the cliff, shattering on the rocks below and spilling the little moonstone pendant out to who-knew-where. He’d spent a half year’s pocket money on that thing. His parents wouldn’t mind if they knew it was a gift for Sasia. His mother had been hoping to make a match of them. And while Sasia and Corten had never had much in common, Sasia was sweet and pretty. Most importantly for Corten’s mother, Sasia came from a family whose wealth and bloodlines dated back even further than Corten’s own. If she showed him favor, then maybe Corten’s mother would stop pestering him constantly about the family lineage and he could go back to focusing on his apprenticeship with Lucia.

Of course, if he lost the pendant with nothing to show for it, he’d only earn himself more grief. And it wouldn’t matter if it was Bernel’s fault. Bernel would gaze at their parents with those wide, innocent-looking eyes and all would be forgiven.

Corten sprinted toward Bernel, grabbing his brother’s arm just before he could throw the little box. They grappled, all Corten’s attention focused on the box even as terror rose up deep in his mind.

No. Not this. Not again.

“Let go!” Corten shouted.

The world slowed as Bernel’s grip on the box finally loosened. Corten took a step back, triumphant. Then he heard the rattle of pebbles falling down the slope, felt his foot slipping as wet dirt and loose rock crumbled under his heel. He tilted back, and back. Bernel’s eyes widened. His hand was still outstretched where it’d been when Corten tore the box free. Corten tried to reach for his brother, but his fingers caught only air.

Then he was falling, the sky blue above him.

The scream tore from his throat. He flailed, trying to grab hold of something, anything. His back hit the rocky slope, sending pain like lightning jolting through him. His body twisted and the world became a spinning chaos of pain.

Then blackness.

Corten found himself on his hands and knees, gasping for breath as the shadowy grass rustled all around. The pain was gone, but his arms and legs still trembled with the shock of it. He pushed himself to his feet. His thoughts were fuzzy, his limbs weak, as though something vital were trickling away from him. Shame and horror rose thick in his throat. Of all the stupid ways to die. Stumbling off a cliff in a fight over a trinket for a girl he didn’t even care for. He should have stood up to his mother. He should have let Bernel throw that stupid necklace over the cliff.

If he had, maybe he wouldn’t be dead. He turned in a slow circle, trying to get his bearings. Lucia would sing him back, of course. Bernel would run and tell someone what had happened and then…

Corten blinked as reality cut through his foggy thoughts.

Wait. The cliff had been years ago. He spun, looking for the monster that had chased him, but there was no sign of it now. No sign of the shadow man either. Even the wind was dying, steeping the colorless world in a silence that was somehow almost as frightening as the beast’s howls had been.

What was going on? He’d been trying to escape, to find his way back to the place where Lucia’s portal had opened. But now with the wind gone, he wasn’t even sure which direction was back.

It is better to travel on and accept your death.

Corten shuddered. “Not yet,” he said, the words sounding odd in the hollow quiet. “I’m not done yet.” He turned and started walking in what he hoped was the right direction. The barriers between life and death weren’t absolute. Nobody knew that better than the necromancers. The monster had been chasing him away from the portal. The shadow man had tried to warn him away, and the wind had dragged him deeper into death. Something wanted to keep him here. Why bother doing all that if there was no hope of him slipping back through to the other side?