Sack still bouncing against my shoulders, I swing up to mount. My head spins with pain, but I keep a tight grip on the reins as she begins forward. I know the visions will start soon. Wormwood starts fast and stays strong. Its effects won’t fade until her heart bursts.

I’ve never used the stuff, but I’ve read about it a few times now. She’ll smell the blood and the rot and the ruin. She’ll see twisted demons. All of it is in her head, but she’ll bolt the second she notices any of them. I set her on a northeast path. The edge of the course, and the mountains beyond, are in that direction. Once she bolts, I’ll have no control over where she goes. All I can do is hold on for dear life.

The day’s warm and the sun’s bright. I send a little curse in the direction of the Longhand, wherever he is, and then remember I need to name the horse. It’s better to die on a horse I named than on one I didn’t.

“Burn,” I say as calmly as I can. “That’s what you’ll do, isn’t it? You’ll burn bright and hard and fast before you go out. Just try not to take me with you, all right, Burn?”

Her coat shivers with light. She snorts pleasantly, too, like she likes the name. But before I can take much pride in getting that part right, she flinches. A second flinch is followed by stamping. Her head shivers, eyes swinging and rolling wildly, and then she breaks.

I tighten my grip and she’s from trot to gallop in heartbeats. Her hooves thunder against the packed hardpan and wind comes howling from all sides. I try to match her rhythm with my body, but it’s a jolting and terrified sprint. I end up more focused on not being thrown from her back. The sprint doesn’t stop, because the demons that Burn is seeing don’t stop, either.

The course looks empty. This route isn’t one the real riders will choose. It’s the long way around, winding on the eastern side nearest the mountains. Before the Longhand poisoned my ashes, I intended on taking this path, flanking the barrier, and executing my own plan.

Now I just have to hope Burn doesn’t run us off a cliff or right into a wall.

It’s not a pace that can last, but a phoenix pushed by fear and powered by the sun can still perform miracles. A glance at my bracelet shows we’re in the lead after an hour.