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The innocent die screaming, and all I can do is watch.
Inspector Haynfyv blanches, staggering out of rank. He gives me one white-eyed, slack-jawed look of horror and lurches away, a gloved hand clapped over his masked mouth.
Cadence is silent for the moment. She doesn’t need to say a word; I know full well this is all my fault.
The Mara have always killed in Refuge, and under it. But there was a time when I could have stopped this carnage.
Even if I had just stayed away, maybe the horror and the pain would have been less. Maybe these lives would have lasted just that much longer. And if I’d managed to regain my abilities, if I’d only found the secret, or stuck it out longer, or tried harder, or worked out what I needed to say or do to make the elders want to help me instead of resisting and struggling and forcing my own way—if I’d even just left Ange behind, as she’d surely have wanted, to keep her people safe . . .
It shouldn’t be like this. This was never what I wanted. I shouldn’t even be here.
One small hope remains: maybe Ravel won’t return. Maybe we will all die, all of us left behind—but he’ll get away with those few he has managed to save, and our sacrifice will be worth something.
Maybe.
Something like a plan untangles itself from the knot of misery inside me: what if I weren’t here? If I were already dead by the time Ravel returns, he could escape this death trap and lead what survivors remain to safety. He knows the way back more or less. It would be better than nothing.
“You’re giving up?” The loathing in Cadence’s voice has shifted into something new. “The only thing you want is death?”
I want to stop the dying. If my death is all I have to offer—
“But not all I have to offer,” she says eagerly.
Before I can find out what that’s supposed to mean, we’re both distracted by a disturbance in the barrier. It ripples as a form steps through—alone.
I suck in a relieved breath. Though my death is all but assured either way, I wasn’t looking forward to having to accomplish it personally. Ravel’s return means none of us left here go free—but at least those he has already saved get to keep their freedom.
Except, the figure that emerges from the barrier isn’t Ravel.
Ash’s face is set in grim lines, his gaze inscrutable as it finds mine across the crowd.
He is the last person I expect to see. It hadn’t even occurred to me to hope for rescue from that quarter—but now that he’s here, now that a real dreamwalker is here—
He lurches, nearly falls, and I go cold. He’s not okay—injured, or sick. Still, he works his way through the crowd, slipping between the whirling death-fogs of the Mara and the desperate, reaching hands of refugees alike.
The uniforms square up against him, shouldering me from view. There are so many enforcers and Ash is entirely alone. Even if he could fight through a full squad all by himself, there is still the Mara to contend with.
I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
So I don’t, not until rough hands pull me to my feet. I stare at Ash’s back as he tows me across the parted line of enforcers and against the tide of surging, pleading refugees. I dig in my feet and yank, forcing him to stop and face me.
But when he does, I hardly know where to start. The Mara continue to ravage the living and rend the dead. But they seem content to ignore us as long as we return the favour. The enforcers stand aside and watch in silence and I can’t think why, what power he could possibly have over them to just make them let me go without a fight—and why he isn’t turning to fight the monsters.
“We need to go.” His expressive face has gone dull, blank. “Your friend is waiting.”
“What about them?” I don’t have to point. The death that surrounds us provides an inescapable reminder of what lies in store for the remainder who have yet to be devoured.
Ash’s gaze doesn’t waver, though there’s a brief crack in his stone-like facade. He plasters over it before I can read him. “I came for you.”
He continues trying to drag me toward the barrier. I argue, resisting with each step. When he won’t slow, I fight.
I don’t want to hurt him—I need him strong to be of any use—but I can’t let him rescue me alone.
I should have fought harder. He turns on me with merciless speed. The world churns—airless-cold-crushing—and then we’re through to the other side.
The tide must be lower this time. It only takes a few moments of splashing for my feet to find purchase. I swipe stinging salt water from my face and look for survivors.
They’re huddled at the edge of the waves. Ravel is the last to look up, apologetic. Resigned. He has managed to save more of them than I thought—except, not all of these faces are ones I know from Refuge.
Grace gives me a cautious smile. Steph glares. I recognize several others from her class of trainees. And they’re not the only ones from Nine Peaks, though Grace is by far the youngest. Ash’s squad is here too, and more besides. For an army, it’s small, and its soldiers are young.
But it’s still an army.
I whirl to smack Ash in the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me they were here? I wasted so much time fighting you!”
He slumps to his knees, panting, blood dripping from his nose, and then, horribly, his ears and the corners of his eyes. I stagger, trying to keep him from falling facedown in the sea. But no one comes to help us. I scan their faces, frantic, but each one of them avoids my searching gaze, finding reason to examine their shoes, or the darkening sky, or to bustle over to check on a huddled, shivering refugee.
All except Grace, whose eyes are welling with tears.
She’s not the only one who shows no trace of the silvering that marks a dreamwalker’s magic. I scan the ranks of Nine Peaks’ rescuers. One pair of dull eyes after another whispers that they’re not dreamwalkers, not most of them. Far too many are just like her. Like me.
Powerless.
“Steph,” I plead, refusing to give up hope. She can fight, at least. Her squad, and Ash’s. I push away the thought of how young she is, how unlikely it is that she could be anywhere near prepared for what awaits on the other side, how I made up my mind back in Nine Peaks that I would not sacrifice their children to save my own people. “Go with Ravel. Get as many out as you can, before—”
She moves in front of Ravel, blocking my view. Ash reaches up, his grip on my arm frighteningly weak.
“We can’t save them all,” he says. The words are cold, but faint, and his face is anguished. “You never should have come back here.”
“You can save some,” I look to the shore again in an effort to include Steph and her squad mates in the conversation, though I know—I know—it’s not right. I shouldn’t ask them to risk their lives for this. But I can’t stop myself from trying to convince them anyway. “Those of you who can fight back—you can cross the barrier. Save as many as you can. Save—Ange is still over there. At least her—”
My voice rises, wavers, and cracks. My throat is tight, eyes burning. I can see it in his face—they won’t go back. They won’t even try. He won’t let them.
“They only let you go because I promised we would cede the city to them,” Ash whispers, his voice barely stronger than the wash of the surf, though he manages to stagger to his feet. “We can’t return. Even if we could cross the barrier as easily as Ravel, there are too many of them lying in wait.”
I pull away, leaving him swaying in the waves. “Ravel. Steph. Please.”
I go to each one in turn. “Grace, tell them—”
She moves toward me, looking worn. The journey down hasn’t been easy on her. I know she has never been more than a couple hours’ ride from the walls of Nine Peaks before, and this has to be tragically far from the kind of adventure she’d dreamed of.
“You don’t understand,” she says. “We’re not what you think. We only learn to protect ourselves on missions, to defend one another while we gather data and collect resources. Not to fight in a war that was lost lifetimes ago.”
“No. No—you were going to help me, you, and Steph. You had a plan to help me escape Nine Peaks. You led your people here to join our mission. And Ash, he said he'd help me save—”
“We were wrong. We forgot our purpose. Ash reminded us of who we are and of what we can and cannot do.”
I stumble back, scuffing through pebbly sand, splashing into icy waves. No one follows. Shapes rise in the growing darkness, sea monsters rearing from the waves to watch with glittering eyes. They make no move to attack.
I stand at the edge of the ocean and look back to those waiting on higher ground. “You can save some.”
They just watch, silent. Tears run freely down Grace’s face, and the cheeks of more than a few of the others from Nine Peaks glisten in the low light.
They won’t help. Cowards. Traitors.
I’m not being fair. I know that. Though I tried so hard to block it out, I heard Ash bargain for my life, promising never to return to the city nor to allow any dreamwalker to fight against Refuge if they would only allow him to take me away. Even if that weren’t the case, I can’t spend their lives to save others. I know the risk is too great, with both the Mara and enforcers lying in wait on the other side.
But I can’t just give up and walk away, either.
I turn my back and wade deeper into the waves. I have no idea how I’m going to fight the monsters, or even get across the barrier, never mind stop the Mara and save all those left behind.
But I won’t leave them. I won’t let them die alone.
The water deepens, lifting my feet from the sludge underfoot. How can it have risen so much in such a short time?
I thrash, gulping first air, then brine. The sea closes over my head, and I kick harder, for the surface or for the barrier, I hope. But the darkness around me is unbroken, pressure crushing my lungs.
I gasp, mouth filling with nothing but water—
“Shame to drown for no reason,” Cadence says. “Why don’t you let me help?”