A flash blinded her. She whirled, just as Mirror sank to her knees clutching her arm. A soldier’s firearm smoked. Helena leapt forward, driving her heavy staff down on his head. He staggered back, and she followed, pummeling him over and over, the heavy wood connecting hollowly with his skull. When she was done, Serina couldn’t see the man’s face anymore for the blood.

Serina grabbed Mirror under the arms and hauled her to her feet. The girl’s face was deathly pale under her freckles.

“Ember!” Serina screamed. She threw her arm up, blocking a punch by a gruff-faced soldier. The older woman appeared, her knives dripping blood. Serina kicked the soldier into Ember’s murderous embrace.

Mirror sagged in Serina’s grip.

“Come on,” Serina pleaded. “You need to walk.”

With a groan, Mirror found her feet. Serina aimed for a gap in the fighting near the cliffs. Ember paced them, her blades flashing anytime a man got too close. Serina tired quickly, but she braced herself and kept staggering forward under Mirror’s weight. Blood sluiced from the wound on the girl’s arm, soaking through Serina’s shirt in seconds. It was too much blood, too fast. Panic poured through Serina’s chest. Finally, they reached the base of the cliff, a short distance from the fighting. Serina helped Mirror lower herself to the pockmarked concrete. Ember stood between them and the battle, her weapons raised and ready.

Serina yanked at the hem of her pant leg. Her hands were shaking so badly it took her two tries to tear the fabric. Mirror leaned her head back against the rough cliff base, her face ashen. She cradled her injured arm in her lap. The blood still flowed, staining her blue prison uniform black and red. Serina inspected the wound. The bullet had torn through Mirror’s upper arm, leaving a gash down to the bone. But the bullet hadn’t lodged in the wound. A small mercy.

Serina had nothing with which to clean the wound, but it wouldn’t matter anyway if she couldn’t stop the bleeding. She twisted the scrap of her pants above the wound as tightly as she could. Mirror cried out, her eyes rolling back until the whites showed, but she managed to stay conscious.

“It’s just a scratch, Mirror, just a scratch,” Serina said, over and over as she prayed for the blood to slow, for some color to come back to Mirror’s face.

The girl gave a shaky laugh. “Scratch?”

Serina brushed Mirror’s hair out of her eyes. Her forehead was clammy, much cooler than the warm Mount Ruin weather warranted. Just a scratch. Just a scratch.

She tried to convince herself.

Behind her, the sounds of fighting echoed off the towering wall of stone. Ember kept guard, but there were few soldiers left to bother them.

Serina shifted so she could follow the battle.

“Go,” Mirror whispered. “We need that boat.”