“Your ashes are ready, Bravos.”

The coming dawn gives only enough light to see shapes and outlines in the dark. The heat of your own phoenix has long settled, and you’ve performed some quick and easy alchemy. It’s a standard rebirth. Far more difficult rebirths are waiting ahead. You’ll have to do alchemy while surrounded by enemies. But on this first night, you have enough space to time-control the burns and get your mixtures just right.

Bravos leans over his pile. “Not quite ready. I don’t like to add components until they’re on the verge of re-forming. They’re more powerful that way.”

You can’t help grinning at him. “Been reading more of Azlo’s theories?”

“They’re convincing,” he replies. “I’ve seen some good results in my training.”

“Fair enough. What component combinations did you go with?”

Bravos sets down his cubes and slides the locking dials. They open with consecutive little snaps. Over his shoulder, you notice Quinn moving through the camp. You watch the spirit inspect your saddlebags before forcing attention back to Bravos. You’re still not sure what to make of the girl, or what to tell Bravos. Maybe it’s better to leave it unspoken.

“Lingerluck and Gasping Mercies for the first leg,” Bravos says.

“I went with the same.”

He points to the next two. “Then Iron and Latchlock.”

You make an appreciative noise. “That’s not a mixture everyone knows, Bravos.”

“Thanks, love. Means a lot coming from you. I thought about a handful of speed combinations, but the forest paths in that last leg will be tight. If we’re riding against Adrian or Etzli, I wanted a confident phoenix that can do some damage. I used it a few times in my training. The spikes are pretty wicked.”

You nod your agreement. Iron and Latchlock is one of the few purely physical mixtures. Bravos doesn’t realize you’re the one who put the idea in his head. You even underlined the two components in a textbook on his desk as a hint. It offers his favorite tool—dagger-sharp spikes—but adapts the horse for tighter turns and trickier footing. It’ll be perfect if the two of you have to go up against Adrian Ford down the stretch.

“What’s the last one?” you ask curiously.

Bravos frowns. “I’m not too happy about that choice, actually. I picked it before I knew we’d be off on our own like this. I thought we’d be down in that strangled canyon, defending our ashes all night. I should have guessed you had something up your sleeve. Anyway, I grabbed a few doses of Absolution in case our ashes get poisoned.”

You squint at the substance. “Absolution? I didn’t know it was such a dark powder.”

“Me neither,” he says, snapping the case shut. “Feels like I wasted one, though, doesn’t it? I just hope our final leg doesn’t depend on it. I’ll feel like a fool if we lose because of that.”

Absolution is the only known cleansing powder. A healthy dose added to ashes will birth a horse without any increased or decreased attributes. Some more defensive alchemists even know how to add the substance to remove negative effects without negating their original combination. It’s useful in the Races, especially if someone manages to taint your ashes with a poisonous component. You’ve never had your ashes compromised, but you’ve seen enough footage of horses tainted by wormwood, or rend, or powdered glass to know the damage they do to a racer’s chances.

“Having a fail-safe is smart, Bravos. We have no idea which riders we’ll run into on the second or third legs. Absolution might be what wins the Races for us.”

“Speaking of other riders,” Bravos says. “We’ve got about thirty minutes before sunrise hits. Want to scout out the valley? I’d love to know who survived the night.”

Your camp is set alongside a rising shoulder of rocky spires. Above, the plateau runs flat and far until dead-ending. In the valley on the right, all the campsites of your competitors will be waiting. The light isn’t perfect, but you know anything you learn could be valuable in the next few days. Your eyes are drawn to the waiting spirit. You’d like a moment alone with her.

“I’ll go,” you offer. “Guard the camp while I take a look.”

Bravos nods. “Just don’t take too long. I want to ride at first rise.”

It’s funny, hearing him push you on timetables and logistics. He said the sun would hit the ashes in thirty minutes, but you know it will really strike in forty-four. Still, it’s nice to see him acting so professional and focused. You lean down and kiss him on the forehead.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Carefully skirting the ashes, you head for the upper plain. You give Quinn a little wave and you’re pleased to see her stand and smile. It’s hard not to like her a little. Together, you make your way through the vague morning, sidestepping knuckled stones and stopping at the cliff’s edge. Only as the lower valley comes into sight does the girl speak.

“You like him.”

“I want to marry him.”

“I’m surprised he can’t see me.” Quinn makes a thoughtful noise. “Better not to tell him.”

“Why not?”

“I’m your spirit, not his.”

You swallow your instinctual response. What is yours will be his. You know the girl is here to help you win, and the reality of that has you worried again. What if she mistakes Bravos for a target? What if she can’t stop herself from taking action as you come down the stretch?

“Bravos is not an enemy.”

Quinn nods. “Understood.”

You let out a little sigh of relief.

“Well, Quinn, I don’t really know how all of this works. I can tell you that you’re with one of the best phoenix riders in Furia. I have the map memorized and we’re in a great position. But…” You hesitate. “What do you actually get out of all this? What’s in it for you?”

The girl doesn’t respond immediately. In silence, the two of you stare down at the unlit valley below. You can just make out the silhouettes of four riders there. All grouped together. Teaming up for the first night, only to betray each other at sunrise. You can’t help wondering where Adrian Ford and Imelda Beru are camped. The shadows are too thick to pick them out.

Quinn answers, “This is the only chance we have to escape our bondage.”

“But haven’t you already escaped it? If you’re here?”

Quinn reaches out and sets a cold hand against your cheek.

“Feel that?” she asks. “I’m here and not. Alive and dead. If I can help you here, I’ll go back to our world as one of the revived. The revived have power in our world. Some do not return. The rumor is that they go on to other worlds. But I will not do that. My friends and family are waiting for me. I will return and I will stand up to our former masters.”

Masters. It’s not hard to figure out she’s referring to the gods. In this world, they’re powerful allies for you and your people. Quinn doesn’t see them that way. She clearly thinks them cruel. You imagine they are. A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the Madness.

“So we finish the Races. And then you…go back?”

“I revive. There are only twenty or thirty revived ones in our world. Some end up joining the masters. The taste of power is too tempting. But there are some…” She pauses, and it’s like she’s looking down into her world. “Some fight for the enslaved. I intend to join them.”

You nod, even though it makes as much sense as the stars. Deep down, you realize you’re afraid of Quinn. You remember the footage of other Races that involved the Madness. Some riders performed impossible feats. Others were shoved over cliffs. You know your mother’s gift will likely prove useful, but until then, you’re just hoping to keep her happy and on your side.

“And your world, is it really so bad?”

“My world…” Quinn shakes her head, struggling. “I’ve been a slave all my life. Your gods? They are cruel to us. They use us. The place we live is nothing like this one.”

For a time, the two of you are silent. First light is striking the mountains, working its way over the great iron shards, dripping down into the waiting valleys. The two of you leave the lovely sight and start making your way back to camp.

“Your days are shorter here.”

“Are they?”

Quinn nods. “Your nights, too.”

“We’re a fast-moving people. I guess the world is just trying to keep up.”

She smiles at that. You’re almost back to camp when sunlight spills over the plateau. Bravos is separating his equipment, getting ready for the second births. Beyond him, you see light catch the ashes. The wind whispers of creation. You pause at the edge of camp and watch as the ashes turn and stir, then whip up with devilish force. Quinn watches beside you, fascinated.

You can’t imagine what it’s like to see the magic for the first time. Somewhere along the way, this all became normal to you. It would be nice, you think, to see it again for the first time.

Dark forms rise out of the storms and sunlight fractures against the swirling wind, bright to the point of blinding. Quinn shields her eyes. You do not.

Both phoenixes stagger free, glorious and full-formed.

You’re surprised to see that your horse has a slightly darker coat than it did the day before. Normally, their color doesn’t change unless you drastically alter the alchemy. It’s still silver-maned, but the rest of its coat looks closer to char than the usual cloudy gray. Bravos’s horse stomps and snorts until your phoenix startles. You watch as it trots a safe distance away.

“That’s amazing,” Quinn says.

“It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

Bravos looks over. “What?”

You shake yourself and remember he can’t see Quinn. “Nothing, love.”

He raises an eyebrow before crossing over to his horse. You can hear him whispering the same phrase over and over as you sort through your own supplies. When the creature is finally calm, he hefts up a saddle and sets to work on the girth and then the bridle. You’ve unearthed your own saddle and started walking over as he mounts. Those gorgeous arms flex as he swings gracefully onto the phoenix’s back.

Bravos adjusts his hair before glancing your way. He’s got that determined look that you’re so proud to see. He’s a champion craving victory, and your first step toward that victory couldn’t have been more perfect. Your mother would caution you. It is called the Races for a reason. Champions aren’t crowned at the end of the first day.

“I’m going to scout the valley,” Bravos says. “Get a look at who has the early lead.”

“Go ahead. There’s a pack formed. It’d be good to know who’s in it. Looks like Etzli is starting out in the lead today. I’ll catch up to you in a clockturn or two.”

He nods back, and urges his phoenix into a trot. Dust trails him, rising like smoke. There’s nothing finer in the world than a man like him on a horse. After a few seconds, you turn back to the task at hand. Your phoenix has wandered off toward the nearest cliffs.

You click your tongue in greeting. It’s a sound this phoenix has heard in every life, through every death. Digging into a pocket, you hold out a baked-red tomato. But when you set a probing hand on the horse’s wide flank, he startles. A series of unsettled snorts follow. Even his ears are swiveling. “Whoa, boy. It’s just me, boy. Just me.”

Carefully, you circle round and approach from the front. It’s a bright morning, and you have to squint as you walk into the sunlight, letting your eyes adjust. But your feet stick to the ground. An unconscious hand drifts up to cover your mouth. No, no, no.

Quinn takes an instinctual step in your direction. “What’s wrong?”

The fruit slips from your hand, kicking up dust as it falls and rolls.

“He’s blind.”

“You can tell that just by looking at him?”

Tears streak down your face. “His eyes. He has no eyes, Quinn. I must have…Somehow I must have messed up the mixture. The wrong components or added them too late. Quinn, I blinded him. We can’t ride blind. That’s not—I’ve never trained for that.”

The horse is feeding off your distress. It’s impossible to calm down, though. You’re finally in the Races and you made the biggest mistake of your life. The horse neighs, but you don’t have any words of comfort to offer. This is unthinkable.

“So what do we do?” Quinn asks. “There has to be something we can do.”

Bravos. Of course. You need Bravos.

“My horse can follow his,” you say, turning. “We need Bravos.”

The resurgent hope brings you stumbling back to reality. You ignore your unsettled phoenix and start walking toward the open plateau. Quinn watches with narrowed eyes.

“I’ve seen them do that with blind horses before. They use mates or companion phoenixes. They trust the scent and follow. We just have to slow the pace a little, but not by much. We can make decent progress before nightfall that way.”

You’ve been distracted, so you haven’t been watching. As you stumble past the staggered rock formations, you get a clear view of the empty plateau. And even as you strain your eyes, there’s no sign of Bravos. You blink, trying to clear that impossible vision, but he’s still not there when the dust and sunlight settle.

So you call out his name. Again and again, ignoring the sudden clench in the pit of your stomach. You shout your voice raw, stumbling through the scorch and ignoring the truth:

Bravos is gone.