A shimmering. Heat waves. A blurry current flowing upward like a vertical river rising into the sky, so clear now I wonder how it’s possible I never saw it before. And, woven through it, a trembling blue light.

An urge to run and leap flutters in my stomach.

And then Akuji does just that.

She sprints forward and hurls herself into the air, and I stare in shock and wonder as she keeps rising. It’s as if an invisible wire is attached to her back, hauling her up. She’s high in the air now, arms out-flung. The air quivers around her. She floats, hair fanning, clothes loose. Then she begins to disintegrate.

She breaks into a million particles that whirl upward and away.

And disappear. Akuji is gone.

Vidhan laughs and then he’s running, so fast he’s a blur.

“Catch ya on the other side!” he cries.

He leaps into the air and shoots up into it, a kite pulled on a string.

Then he’s floating. And then he’s falling apart. Spirals of him, like dust, swirl up from his body. He’s coming undone, becoming smoke. And he’s gone.

Malik turns to me. “Your turn,” he says.

“But—”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll be right behind you. We’ll Fall through and land in the same location…just in a parallel world. Tir. It’s like running out of a sauna and diving into a freezing lake. Except more or less the other way around—Tir is hot as hell. I’ll pick you up on the other side and we’ll find the Wraith-keeper. You can do this, Ana. One state to another. That’s all.”

“One state to another,” I repeat. “Piece of cake.”

“Exactly.”

“Except I’ve never run from a sauna into a lake. I mean, I’m not Finnish. Can’t you think of anything more—”

The scream cuts me short.

SKRRRAAAAA­AAAAA­AAAAA­AAAAA­AAK!

Malik squares his stance. His hand flies to his hip and he draws his pistol. A shadow passes over the sun and dread runs in my blood.

RUN! shouts a voice in my head. I don’t stop to ask where.

I run.

Fear. It guides me low and quick through the field. I don’t look back. I run. It’s a crouching, stumbling, awkward kind of run. I forget to look up at the sky. I forget to fling myself upward. I simply keep moving.

A shadow ripples over the field. I feel the heavy beat of wings, a gust of air.

Then I catch a root and slam into the ground.

My shoulder crunches into hard ridges of ploughed earth. I reach for the sword, roll onto my back—steel myself for whatever comes.

A shape looms. The plants thrust aside and…

It’s Malik, brandishing his gun.