We board one of the nearby train cars, flattening ourselves against its side as the wheels below us jerk once with a groan. A deafening blast comes from the train’s whistle. I brace myself against the car.

A minute later, the train finally begins to pull away from the station.

Before long, we are snaking through the nighttime countryside, leaving a trail of smoke and steam behind us. As the cars roll and clank, I peer out from the side to see nothing but blackness beyond us in all directions.

Behind me, Jeran shifts closer. He can’t see my hands in the night and the train is too loud for us to speak, so instead, I reach back and find his arm, then tug his wrist upward twice, hoping to signal to him that we should move to the roof. It’s impossible to stay down here without being thrown from side to side. If we grow too exhausted, we might fall off and be crushed when the train cars jolt against one another.

I lead Jeran to one of the ladders against the side of the car, then pull myself up step by step. Behind me, I listen for his boots on the ladder steps, but he moves so quietly that I can’t detect him at all. So I just look up and keep going.

Finally, we reach the top and are hit with a blast of wind. It’s cold up here, but at least it’s flat, and two metal railings running along either side of the car’s roof make it possible for us to grab on to something for balance.

I look behind me to see Jeran already crouched in a small, tight ball, his figure swaying gently with the car, his grip firm against the railing. His eyes glitter faintly in the night. It’s all I can really make out of him.

There’s still not much light to sign to each other, so instead we stay quiet and low, holding tight. The night drags on. I fight against the sleep calling to me. But the fatigue creeps into every corner of my mind, pulling me down. My chin dips as my eyes droop—I jerk awake repeatedly as the train jolts us. Then I fade again in a cycle. Hold tight, I scream at myself, making sure each time that my hand is still clamped against the railing.

The other voice in me chuckles. All these enhancements they gave you as a Skyhunter—and they didn’t bother to take away your need for sleep? What a waste.

Despite my best efforts, I eventually drift into a half sleep filled with hallucinations.

In most of my dreams, Talin’s pulse is the ever-present rhythm in the background, and I am so used to it I think of it as infrequently as my own heartbeat. But tonight, she feels near in a way that I only remember from the days when we used to walk side by side. I still, hoping to stay in this dream. Her figure starts to flicker like a shadow in the night, so subtle a movement that I cannot tell whether or not she is there.