Karam yelled out, but the vision broke and she was already being pulled back into reality, flung so hard into the real world that she hit the sand with a painful thud.

Her head felt like it had been cracked in two as the Shores of the Dead flooded into her vision. Karam tried to make sense of what she had just seen, and what was real and what wasn’t.

It took her longer than it should have.

So long that it was too late by the time Karam realized the cracking sound hadn’t just been the bullet hitting Tavia square in the chest.

Arjun was slumped on the shores in front of her, a bullet in his leg.

Her necklace grew warm again.

Karam turned in a snarl.

And then another shot sounded.

Her body jolted and she felt a burning, unimaginable pain.

Right where her heart was.

Right where she kept Saxony and every promise that she had made.

Karam fell to the sand beside Arjun and let the darkness take her.

14

WESLEY

The forest wasn’t hard to infiltrate.

Wesley was out of practice when it came to being stealthy, but even he had little trouble sneaking past the guard and wandering into the forest like he very much belonged there.

It might have been the Crafter in him, helping him stick to the shadows—or the shadows stick to him—or it might have been because the forest was woefully guarded for a rebellion.

Either way, Wesley was in.

He just wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to sneak past the guards in the first place. He could have easily introduced himself and explained that he was on their side. Even if they hadn’t believed him and thought every bruise on his body was some kind of infiltration tactic, the worst they could do was bring him to their leader or try to put him in chains.

It wasn’t like he’d never been in chains before.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t have a good in with their leader.

Perhaps the sneaking was just an old habit, like the not trusting people and the need to prove that he could do whatever he put his mind to.

Maybe he needed it, this small and tiny victory, after being lost for so long.

After swimming for his damn life in water so cold it felt like being shot at a hundred times over.

Wesley strolled through the center of the camp.

It was surrounded by streams that reminded him of Creije. Wesley didn’t want to think about it, but it always came to him in the quiet moments.

The home he’d let fall to its knees.