The noise is nearly deafening as the air snaps back in place.
My power cracks with its collapse, like a piece of mountain crumbling off. Its jagged, plummeting form crashes into a sea that swallows it whole, leaving no trace of it behind. It’s as if the rip was never even there.
I collapse onto the ground.
The world spins, my chest feels hollow, and I don’t think I could muster a single scrap of power, rot or raw, even if my life depended on it. I feel like death, like I could roll over straight into a grave.
But I made her a promise.
So instead of allowing myself to succumb to the darkness my consciousness wants to pull me into, I roll over. Push myself up.
Fall to my knees again. Sway like a damn tree in the wind, slumping against the fabric barrier that’s still standing. Silently yelling at myself, I try to threaten my legs to hold me, though they’re not fucking listening.
Just when I worry that I really am going to collapse in unconsciousness, two hands appear, a hard grip wrenching me to my feet. I whirl, nearly stumbling right back down, but the hold steadies me, keeps me upright.
“Relax! It’s me.”
I blearily blink at Ryatt as he comes into focus.
“Fuck. You look...” Ryatt trails off, apparently unable to vocalize just how bad I appear. “Did you just do what I think you did?”
“Rip another tear in the world to save Auren? Yes.”
“Fuck,” Ryatt says. “I never should have said what I did before—that Auren should come here. I was so fucking wrong.”
If I didn’t feel like death, I might reel back from shock. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you admit you were wrong.”
“Come on, I gotta get you out of here,” he says with a grim expression. “You’re in no position to defend yourself like this. When that barrier comes down, those fuckers might try to come for you.”
I look over my shoulder at the monarchs and nobles, at the handful of guards.
They’re fucking lucky I’m too weak to use any more power, that the shield was up and didn’t let me rot them to dust. Because if things were different, if I weren’t so wrecked right now, they’d be dead. Based on their faces, they know it.
Queen Kaila looks nervous. King Merewen is downright terrified. I think the new Fifth King might’ve shit his pants.
It only gives me the smallest twinge of satisfaction.
I glare at them all, and they fucking know. The next time I see them, I’ll kill them.
The kid is still lying on the floor, but as I watch, he gasps and coughs, the first signs of him waking, and as soon as he does, his barrier begins to ripple, like a blanket being shaken out in the wind.
“Time to go,” Ryatt urges. Turning away, he tosses my arm over his shoulders and all but drags me toward a timberwing. “Can you ride on your own? We’ll go faster if you can ride in your own seat.”
“I can ride.”
“You sure?” he asks dubiously.
“I said I can ride,” I grit out.
“Okay, okay, asshole. Let’s go.”
“How are you here?” I ask as I stumble to the beast. I hate to admit that I wouldn’t have been able to walk this short distance if it weren’t for Ryatt holding me up. “Whose timberwing is this? Where’s Argo?”
“Our soldiers caught up to me—just like I told you they would when I found you in that desert. Argo’s on his way back to Fourth as we speak,” he tells me. “Probably already on a ship. He’s in good hands, I promise. One of them is an animal mender.”
Relief fills my chest.
In a forceful move, Ryatt shoves me up onto the saddle of the squatting timberwing and starts to quickly buckle me in. “We can catch up to the others, ride the same ship. I doubt any of these fuckers will try a damn thing once we’re behind our borders.”
But I shake my head, my hand snapping out to grip his wrist. “I’m not going to Fourth.”
Ryatt pauses, jerking to look behind us at the shield as it starts to snap and fray. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m going to Deadwell.”
He frowns, opens his mouth to say something, but then realization dawns. “You’re going to the rip.”
I nod. “I have to find her, and I’m not going to have the strength to use any more raw power. I can’t open another rip right now.”
Ryatt shakes his head. “Deadwell is a long ways from here. We’ll have to change out the timberwings.”
“You’re coming with me?” I ask, surprised.
“I’m your brother. Of course I’m fucking coming with you.”
I study his face, see the determination and fierce loyalty radiating through him. And I nod. Because at the end of the day, no matter how hard things are between us, no matter how many arguments we get into, we’re brothers. He has my back, and I have his, and that’s all there is to it.
“Now don’t fall,” he orders before he runs and jumps on his own timberwing—his own beast that he lent to me so I could fly here.
If he and his group hadn’t found me in the desert, if I hadn’t shown up here when I did, Auren would be dead. Just thinking about how close she was makes my blood feel like ice.
With a slight tap of our heels, the beasts jump into the air in tandem, just as the barrier falls away like a shirt yanked from a clothespin, caught in the wind and disappearing from view. The other monarchs are watching my ascent and scattering like ants, afraid I’m going to fly back down and catch them.
They should be scared. I hope they jump at every shadow. Twitch at every dark line that creeps into their peripheral vision. I hope they keep looking over their shoulders, watching, waiting for me to be there, hunting them.
The timberwing I’m riding lets out a roar, and the monarchs flinch, making a cruel smile twist my lips. Then we’re up in the clouds, and they’re out of view.
And we start our race toward Deadwell.
The journey is long, and I feel every moment keenly, just like I did when I raced from Fourth to reach Auren. Luckily, I was able to stay on the saddle, though I certainly wasn’t conscious for most of the ride that first day and night. I was too weak to do much of anything, so Ryatt led the way and made the plans and kept us moving.
I slept when it was time to land, I ate when he shoved food in my hand, and held onto the reins with a strained grip, while my sapped strength slowly returned.
But something was different.
I was able to use my normal magic again on the third day, making the grass wilt and rot beneath my feet. However, two days after that, when my rot was back to normal, I tried to see if I could use raw power, tried to test if I could possibly open another rip without having to use the one in Deadwell.
I couldn’t.
It wasn’t as if I could dredge it up but only a splutter of it came out. No, I couldn’t call on my raw magic at all. There’s a pit deep in my center where the well of raw power used to be, and it’s just empty.
As if I truly did dry it up, with nothing left but parched earth and untamed decay.
I didn’t tell Ryatt. Didn’t acknowledge it at all. Instead, I told myself I just needed more time. Shut up my fear by fueling determination in my thoughts instead. Quell my doubts by stuffing my hand in my pocket and feeling her ribbon. Auren needs me, and I’m going to get to her, simple as that.
So what if my raw power is barren right now? It will come back. It has to, because I don’t want to think of what will happen to the villagers, to my mother, if it doesn’t.
I got Auren out, and that’s what matters. I just need to get to Deadwell so I can follow her.
All while we travel, I’m eaten away by unknowns. I don’t know if she was hurt when she fell through the rip. I don’t know where she is or if she’s safe. Until I can see her with my own eyes and feel her beneath my own hands, I’m not going to be able to rest.
So when we finally reach Deadwell and the heart of Drollard Village, I feel like I’m ready to snap. Too many days have passed.