“I don’t have hours to spare,” I grumble. And then I do something I’ve never done before. I pull out the lodestone in front of someone. It shivers in the air, then locks on to north. “This way,” I say, pointing us west.

“How do you know?” His tone is doubtful.

“The lodestone always finds north. Even in the gods-sent silent storms. A trader gave it to me.”

Asher frowns. I know he doesn’t believe me, and he still looks doubtful a few hours later, when the sun starts to dip for the horizon ahead of us.

“How can you still not believe me?” I grumble.

“Oh, I believed you from the beginning. Why would you lie about that? It was very specific.” His eyes twitch to my neck, where the lodestone’s cord is hidden beneath my layers. “I’m confused about why you told me. Tech like that is something people would kill for. Betray friends for.”

“That what you’re going to do to me?”

“No,” he rushes to say. “I guess I figured that if you were being so honest, you must trust me again. At least a little.”

Between the gods deserting us and everything I’ve experienced since Indie died, I’m not sure I trust anyone fully. I’ve been going it alone since I came home to find Dead River raided. I’m about to tell Asher as much when he puts a hand on my shoulder. “There,” he says, pointing. “See it?”

Squinting, I can make out something along the horizon. A pale, stout structure, definitely man-made, like a plank of wood resting atop Burning Ground. It stretches away from us, switchbacking toward the sinking sun.

“Boardwalks,” Asher explains. “They’ll lead us to Powder Town.”

As the sun nears the horizon, we step out of Burning Ground and onto the raised walkway. The wooden planks glow golden, but they feel worn beneath my boots, smoothed from years of wind and sandstorms.

The walkway cuts almost due west, spanning narrow tributaries and turning only when a large hot pool demands it. Occasionally the path branches off and dead-ends right before one of these pools of water, though I can’t understand why and am too tired to ask. We’re making remarkable time. I’d forgotten how freeing it is to not have to worry where you step, to just . . . walk.

It doesn’t take long for Powder Town to appear in the distance.

The first things I notice are the trees. A rocky rise looms at the settlement’s rear, and real, living trees pepper the landmass. They twist like scrub, hunched and beaten by storms, but they have undeniable trunks, nearly straw thin from this distance. Pines, Asher calls them when he notices me staring. They are so vibrant, so bright, they seem impossible.