He dragged himself up, coughing and spitting out water. His waist emerged from the river, a pair of spidery hands curled over his hips.

“Get away from him,” I screamed, staggering to my feet. The ground seemed to tilt beneath me, rolling like the river. I stumbled forward, half-delirious with terror, certain that by the time I reached him, the rusalka would have already dragged him back under.

Except then his thighs slid onto the algae-coated stone, and the webbed fingers slipped down to his knees. My breath caught in my throat. The rusalka was helping him.

As I reached Vanya, he curled atop the boulder, coughing. The rusalka let go of him and retreated beneath the surface before I could get a good look at her.

“Are you okay?” I asked, falling to my knees beside Vanya.

“Toma,” he mumbled, sitting up laboriously. Water trickled down his chin, his body trembling in the cold. He had lost his stolen cap in the river, and his hair hung in dripping coils over his face. “You jumped in to save me...”

Lantern light shone through the trees. Branches crunched and twigs snapped under heavy feet. Vanya’s features tightened.

“You need to run,” Vanya whispered, his voice cracking. “I’ll take care of Mikhail.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No, I’m not leaving you.”

I wouldn’t even consider it, not after everything we had been through. This wasn’t where our journey would end. Whatever happened next, we would face it together.

“Please, Toma, now isn’t the time to argue. Please run.” He clenched his jaw, his gaze welling with fear. He put a hand on my forearm. “These men—”

Before he could finish, three Fraktsiya soldiers emerged from the tree line and rushed toward us. As the lantern light raced down their bayonet blades, I felt a sinking dismay. If I had run, I probably wouldn’t even have made it to the cover of the forest, but at least I would’ve had a chance.

“Get up,” one of the soldiers said, and brutally wrenched me to my feet, his fingers digging into my shoulder like a set of iron jaws.

Slowly, Vanya rose as well. He took my hand only long enough to give it a reassuring squeeze.

The soldiers herded us away from the river. My boots squelched as I walked, my toes numb from the cold.

Back on the road, the remaining soldiers were gathered in a circle a safe distance from the bridge. As we approached, the soldiers turned in our direction, their circle widening enough that I could see Mikhail curled on the cobblestones, grasping his shoulder. His head was thrown back, his face contorted in terrible pain.

Blood already darkened the sleeve of his coat, a black stain against the lighter fabric.

No. I froze, shocked. No. I had healed him.

“This one’s useless,” Lieutenant Dronov said, and stepped forward, drawing his gun from its holster. He pointed it at Mikhail’s head. “We can leave him for the rusalki.”