“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.”