Sel’s out of the car before I can even unbuckle myself. I’m shouting at him to stop, that he’ll get himself killed, but it’s useless—and hypocritical. I’m sprinting after him, no thoughts of my own safety. Sel and I share the same single thought, I know it: Nick.

Nick. Nick. Nick.

Sel stops in the middle of the road, listening. “Something’s happening. We need to get off the road.”

He moves around to my front, hand turned awkwardly to guide me to his spine.

I blink, confused as he crouches.

He turns around and rolls his eyes. Mouths, “Get on!”

I climb onto his back—just barely settled—and then he’s racing us through the woods toward the fight, silent and swift.

He slows when the trees thin, listens for a moment, and takes the next few steps at a human pace. He doesn’t set me down and it’s obvious why—my footsteps will break every twig and pine needle. His don’t make a single sound. I peer over his shoulder, following his gaze as he assesses the area.

A smooth driveway. Three black Mageguard Jeeps out front.

Shouting from the inside.

It happens so fast.

One second, the cabin is a rustic, two-story getaway with big picture windows under an A-frame roof.

Then… it explodes.

Every single one of those picture windows blows outward in a shower of glass and bright flames. The A-frame roof erupts into a fountain of splintered wood and broken shingles.

Sel grips my thighs tight enough to bruise.

“Oh my God. Sel—”

He shakes his head hard, hisses, “Wait.”

Just then, the door is shoved off its hinges from the inside. Four Merlins come tumbling out with it, covered in bright white flames and screaming.

Sel pulls me tighter to him and drops to a crouch.

I gasp. He doesn’t bother to shush me. The Merlins’ faces and clothes are in shreds—blood streams down their chins and shirts. One Merlin’s arms and hands are a mess of blood, like she’d thrown them over her face to protect herself. It hadn’t worked. She trips over her own feet and falls. Doesn’t get up.

The other three don’t fare much better. They stumble through the lot toward the cars, barely able to see. Two fall to their knees—their pained moans echo against the trees overhead.

I don’t realize how badly I’m shaking until I feel Sel’s hand smooth down my leg and up again. It doesn’t help. It takes everything in me not to make a sound, not to run, not to move.

The only Merlin left standing turns our way briefly; there’s a pool of blood on a shirt, a deep wound through a sternum. And then I’m back in the tunnels.