You see it a second after Quinn speaks. A plume of dust fans out as Revel’s horse collapses. Its shoulders clip the earth, and the riders both go skidding over the rocky soil. There’s a moment of confusion; then the ghost helps Revel back to his feet. The ghost slings Revel’s arm around one shoulder and keeps him moving toward the finish line. They’re on foot, moving much slower, but just one hundred paces from the finish line.

Can they win the race like that?

You ignore the question and urge your phoenix forward. For the first time, you see the finish line looming in the distance. You’re so focused on the sight of it and Revel’s stumbling figure that Quinn’s mental cry is the only warning as Bravos brings his phoenix slamming into yours. A kick of Quinn’s leg is the only thing that saves you. It lands just before impact and lessens the shock of the blow. Her effort keeps the back spikes from finding flesh, but it doesn’t stop the front ones. The collision is a storm of sounds and lightning-bright images:

Blood gushes from a fist-sized wound.

A scream tears from Revenge’s throat.

The familiar mint on Bravos’s breath.

Sweat colors his clothes.

Last, you see his massive hands come to life.

One grips his reins. The other flexes around his switch.

The impact jars your horses apart, but not far enough to keep you safe. Bravos is close enough for a single strike. It’s an off-handed jab. It comes like lightning, but Quinn is quicker. The girl who rode the lightning into your world tugs you down by the shoulders. The blow glances overhead. Bravos looks stunned, but he’s smart enough to stay focused. He takes advantage of Revenge’s broken stride and vaults forward. The sight of him pulling away draws out every instinct. It takes fifteen years of endless training and bottles them into a single grain of time.

Mind and body move in flawless harmony. Your hand brings the whip up and around. Your tongue clicks a command that keeps Revenge moving. Your eyes find the target of your strike, calculate the distance with impossible precision, and force your shoulders to swivel for the perfect range. Revenge steadies his gait as your whip snakes through the air.

The black tongue curls around Bravos’s wrist and snaps. You hear the bones break before he can even scream. Bravos slumps sideways, losing control of his phoenix. Ahead, Revel’s collapsed horse has burst into flames. Revenge slides left to avoid the chaos as Bravos fumbles the reins. He’s too late. Both boy and horse collide with the waiting fire.