I look for a target, something to fire at, but it’s harder to see. Something sharp grazes my back and I turn to find flames flying through the air at me. Run! I take off toward the tree line, skimming for anything to use as a shield. The sound of glass crunching underfoot crushes my confidence. A fireball pummels through the air and I jump sideways, its heat warming my face. I spot Jhamal dodging fuzzy strands of magic behind his shield.

“Jhamal!” But he doesn’t turn in my direction. Can he even hear me over all the screaming? More Ghizoni emerge from the forest, vengeance rooted in heartbreak behind their battle cry. No, they have to go back! Another blow flies at me and I dodge, covering my head. Jhamal runs toward me and a swirl of magic chases him.

“Get down!” I charge his way, push him down, and kick off the ground. Up. Up. Air whips beneath me and my wrists connect with the magic midair. It sizzles then fizzles out. I land hard.

“Jhamal, you okay?” I ask, panting.

He nods, gripping my hand and I tug him up to his feet. He falls in behind me, back-to-back.

“You need a shield!”

A burst of magic flies toward us. He pulls us aside, this time, dodging the blow. The Patrolman stumbles in shock at his miss. Jhamal takes advantage of the moment, slamming his knuckles into the Patrolman’s face. Violence erupts in explosions in every direction. I aim and fire toward them, heat pulling through me like a rope tethered to my chest. Magic flies from my hands slamming into someone with a Ghizoni in a headlock. Jhamal and I rotate. I aim and fire. Aim and fire again, until my wrists ache from the recoil.

Something slams into me and the world goes sideways. I stagger. Pain pinches my knees as they slam the ground. The world goes black.

Silence.

I’m a fragment, a feeling, a thought. I am air.

Smoke stings my nose.

Boom.

“Ahhh!” Shouts blare in my head.

For several moments the world is silent. Death is all I hear.

I blink and the sky is a blur. I blink again and sounds swell around me. Magic sizzling armor, groans, screams. The battle rages.

“Up, Jelani,” someone says, pulling me up by my arms. “Can you hear me?”

I cup the Ghizoni’s face expecting to see Jhamal, but it’s not him. My hand is warm and sticky. “Th-thank you…” I gesture for his name, blinking his blurry face into focus.

“It’s Rahk.”

“Thank you, Rahk.”

“You were out for some time.”

“I-I was?”

“They ambushed us,” he say. I take in the scene around me when an explosion pops overhead. We tuck our heads and run, skirting around fallen bodies, crumpled armor tangled around bleeding Patrolmen.

The battle has turned.

And not in our favor.