"Aerewyn, where are you going?" Nymia grabs my hand, stopping me.

"He's hurt. He needs help."

"So?" my sister asks, shaking her head and clamping her fingers around mine when I try to pull away. "That's not our concern. You can't go through the protection spells again, not so soon. Priestess Sytrene will take your magic for a month!"

"I don't care!" The truth in those words shocks even me. Nymia straightens and blinks twice, as though seeing me through new eyes. A twinge stirs deep in my chest. "He was saving the phoenix, Nymia. There was a broken cage by his side. He risked his life to free a being made of magic."

"Think about what you're doing—"

"He's going to die," I cut her off, closing my eyes against the brutal reality. All I see are the red rivers running down his smooth cheekbones, and the stillness of his chest. I blink the image away. "I can't— I won't let that happen."

"Aerewyn, he's a human. He's mortal. Dying is what they're supposed to do."

"Not so soon," I whisper. Faeries don't age, not like humans. Our connection to the Father gives us immortal youth. But sometimes, if a faerie has made a grave enough mistake, the priests have the power to sever that tie and rip the magic from their soul. I saw one such faerie, with wrinkled skin like a dried prune and hair as white as snow, with a back hunched over as though constantly in pain and bones so brittle the slightest fall could break them. That's how humans are supposed to die—when they're old and gray, after they've lived. I can't imagine the boy I've been spying on as an old man, but he deserves to become one someday. "He can't die like this, Nymia. Not like this."

She sighs. "How would we even find him?"

The we in that sentence makes me smile. "I don't—"

A caw cuts me off.

I lift my face toward the sky, spotting a blazing flame among the charcoal clouds, burning despite the rain. It’s the phoenix. "Nymia, look!"

"How…?"

"It must've sensed our magic. See, it wants us to save him!"

The bird swoops down and lands on a nearby tree. Where water touches its smoldering feathers, steam rises, but the branch below its claws doesn’t burn.

"What will we tell the priestesses? If they know we snuck out to help a human…" She doesn't have to finish.

I shudder even thinking what our punishment would be, and pull my lower lip between my teeth. An idea sparks. I meet the black eyes watching me from overhead, wondering how many lifetimes they've seen, how many tricks the immortal soul within them could show me. "Do you know a way around the protection spell?"

The phoenix tilts its head to the side, then takes off with one swoop of its expansive wings. I dash after, not waiting for my sister to follow, though moments later I hear her feet splashing in the mud. Guided by fiery tail feathers, we race along the river's edge as fast as our feet will take us. The protection spell hums louder and louder the closer we get, until finally I see the subtle shimmer of magic in the air, extending as far left and right as my eyes can see—an invisible, yet impenetrable, wall. There's no way around it.

Nymia and I skid to a stop.

The phoenix dives into the river, disappearing into the choppy whitecaps as steam rises from the surface of the water. It reappears a moment later, a few feet away, wet and sizzling as it soars back into the air, struggling in these wild winds.

Could it really be so easy?

I shake my head, amazed. "I—I think it wants us to swim."

"Is that— I mean, will that?"

"I don't know." My gaze falls to the rapidly churning water, made raging by the storm. "Let me go first, in case it's not safe. In case the protection spell extends beneath the surface. You don't need to risk so much. This is my mistake to make."

Nymia looks at the river, then back to me. "If you think I'm letting you do this alone, you're crazy."

"Nymia—"

"I've already come this far, haven't I?" she mutters and takes my hand. "Now, come on, before I change my mind."

Together, we jump.

The current takes us immediately, nearly ripping our hands apart though we grip each other tightly. I kick with my legs and drive my free arm through the water, but we're moving the wrong way. Reaching deep within, I call on my magic, trying to calm the rush. It works a little, so I push harder. The water begins to flow around us, rather than against us, as though we're an arrow shooting upstream. Nymia grows kelp along the riverbed, tugging on the strands as though they're rope. Inch by inch, we make our way beneath the water, using our power to fill our lungs with air. A glittering sheen of magic lights the choppy surface. I squeeze my sister's hand, and she squeezes back, but there's no time to question. We push forward and emerge on the other side with a gasp, then collapse on the sandy bank.

We did it.

We're through.

"Do you think that worked?" Nymia whispers.

A smile widens my lips. "I didn't feel the sting of the spell."

"Me neither."

Her voice has a wary, almost foreboding tone. Meanwhile, an electric charge simmers beneath my skin as a new world of possibilities fills my thoughts.

I can sneak out.

I can leave the faerie lands without the priestesses knowing.

I wonder if I could bring someone in…

The phoenix caws, reminding me this night is far from through. I roll to my feet, pushing those thoughts away for another time.

"Come on."

We run in silence for another ten minutes, this time deeper into the forest, leaving the water far behind. Leaves smack my face. Branches creak and groan overhead. The wind presses into my chest like a physical force, and I jump when a boom shakes the ground, the final act of a fallen tree. The storm is getting worse.

How much farther?

How much longer?

As I think it, a lonely howl carries toward us on the wind. I spot the hound's fake leg first, as a flash of lightning catches the metal gears, making them gleam across the darkness. The phoenix sweeps low, ignoring the barking dog to land on Erick's chest. The rest of his body is half-submerged in a growing puddle, legs buried so deep all I can see are the tips of his leather boots sticking out from the water. I fall to my knees by his side and grab his wrist, relieved to find a soft pulse thrumming beneath his skin.

He's alive.

I exhale for the first time in what feels like an hour.

He's alive. He's okay.

And I'm touching him.

I'm actually touching him.

The realization is so shocking I snatch my arm away. The warm touch of his skin lingers, prickling my fingertips, a new sort of magic I don't understand.

I glance at Nymia. "What do we do?"

"I don't know." Her gaze darts to his face and she winces. "I could try a healing poultice, but I don't know if it will work."

The phoenix snaps its wings, as though telling us to be quiet, then hops up Erick's chest. It leans over his face, hovering above the deep wound as a single tear leaks from the corner of its eye. Even though it's hardly full-grown and still at the very start of its newest life cycle, the magic within its soul is ancient and strong. As soon as the droplet splashes against the cut, Erick's skin begins to heal. Illuminated by the magical creatures surrounding him—our skin and feathers brightly glowing—the wound on his face seals slowly shut, shifting from angry maroon to subtle pink, then disappearing entirely as the rain washes all the evidence away.

But Erick doesn't open his eyes.

The dog cries softly, curling into a ball against his human's side.

I glance at the phoenix, frowning, but its eyes are already on the sky. The bird has done all it can do—the debt is paid. Those onyx pupils don't glance back as it takes off and vanishes into the night.

"Wait!" Nymia calls, but the phoenix is gone. She looks back to me. "Now what do we do?"

"I—"

But I don't know what to say, what to do. My gaze falls back to Erick, and I lift my fingers to brush the wet ebony hairs from his pale skin. He could be sleeping, if I didn’t know any better. He looks so peaceful.

When I glance back to Nymia, she's watching us with a scowl.

I let my hand fall to the ground. "We need to move him somewhere safe, somewhere warm, until the storm is over. We need to find shelter."

"Where?"

An idea sparks. "The—"

"Don’t even think it," Nymia chides.

"You don't know what I was going to say!"

"The cave," she accuses. "You were going to say the cave."

Did I mention how much I hate it when she's right?

"Not our cave," I explain. "I won't bring him into the faerie lands. I don't even know how." I mean, I have an idea, but my sister doesn’t need to know that. "But our cave is part of a whole system of caves, and some of them are on the human side. We can take him there."

Nymia hesitates, not answering as she squeezes her eyes shut. A worry line wrinkles her nose, and she lifts her fingers to pinch the raised flesh. I wait, and wait, and wait, until—

Lightning shatters the sky.

A crack reverberates through the forest and she jolts.

"Fine!" Her eyes go wide as though her mouth has betrayed her, and then they narrow in on me. "But this is it, Aerewyn. Promise me this is it. That after tonight, after we know he's safe, you won't see him again. Promise me."

I groan. "Nym—"

"Don't Nymia me! I swam under the protection spell for you. I ran into human lands for you. I'm saving this boy for you. I broke who knows how many of our most vital rules for you. You can do this one thing for me. He's dangerous, Aerewyn. They're all dangerous."

She's right.

I know she's right.

So why is my chest tightening at the thought of never seeing him again?

A lump in my throat holds the words in, but I force them out. "I promise."

Nymia releases a soft breath and my heart sinks.

Together, we use our magic to stretch a leaf as long as his body, and then we roll him onto the waxy tarp. I grab one side and she grabs the other. For a moment, we lock eyes, the promise stretching between us unspoken. Then we race through the storm, with the hound following diligently at our heels.

After tonight, I think, replaying Nymia's words, unsure if they were a kindness or a mistake. I glance up into the gloomy sky, wondering how many hours lie between now and dawn. If one night is all I have, I plan to make it count.

One night will have to last me one lifetime.