Setting off again, I move even faster, making sure the sun stays to my right. I don’t recognize any of the trees I pass, and the boulder-strewn ground looks new, but only minutes later, I come upon the same log, exactly in the same place between two moss-covered rocks.

Shit. Is this real or in my head? Alexei said running in a straight line through the Faelands was a challenge. Is that what this is? Or am I coming back on myself? Fear rises, tightening my breath. If I can’t get out of the Faelands, how the hell am I going to get to Blackriver?

A streak of light darts behind a tree at the corner of my eye—turquoise and silver. I feel that awareness again, like a gentle weight and a tickle over my neck.

I wipe sweat from my face and shake my head. My overwhelmed senses must be making shit up. I should keep going. The road can’t be far now.

As I leap over that damn log—again—and race between the trees, surprising images begin to tumble past my eyelids. It’s as if the weighty presence in the forest is purposely washing through me, freeing hidden memories.

The day I lost to my Haze bubbles into my mind as I charge through the trees. Memories of Flanagan washing me, feeding me, and helping me with the relentless need for release. Some of the images are shocking and yet so familiar. I rested on his lap in the shower, same on his couch. I slept beside him in his bed and, because of nerve damage, happily let his strong grip jack me until I came in his hand. I loved it. I wanted more. To touch him, to fuck him, but he would only give me what I needed and tried hard to take nothing for himself. We got up to some pretty kinky stuff that day. I’ve got a clear image of gold nipple clamps. And I was all in. I wanted to suck him off at one point and sulked when he wouldn’t let me. Shit. Was that really me?

I remember more too. I remember feelings. The raw kind, when you fall for someone so fast and completely, you feel exposed and vulnerable. Something deep in my chest warms and tightens. Fairy-flavored fuck balls. At some point I’m gonna have to admit to myself I’ve got it bad for a man. And not some male femme fatale who looks like a woman but a muscled giant who is definitely not female. I don’t know how the hell that happened, but surely it can’t all be the Flame, even if I want it to be.

I rub my face and try to shake off the Faelands’ distraction. I need to press on. But after my leaping strides have swallowed miles of forest, I slide to a halt in front of that same log.