One of the Unconsecrated—a young woman with orange-red hair—reaches for Travis as he dangles like bait. She steps off the porch in her attempt to get to him and her hands slide down his legs and catch on his feet and suddenly Travis is holding on to the rope with only one hand.

The Unconsecrated woman pulls herself up, her face closer and closer to Travis's foot. Already I can see pricks of blood where her jagged fingernails sink into his flesh. Her mouth grows closer. His fingers slip, a few already dangling free.

I feel myself jolt and move to the rope. I want to scream but it's trapped in my throat, strangling me. Blood begins to drip over the Unconsecrated woman's hands, making her grip slick, causing her to double her efforts.

Another Unconsecrated lunges at Travis and he too falls from the porch, dislodging the woman who was already dangling from Travis's foot. With his newfound lightness Travis swings his body forward and wraps both legs around the rope. He lets his head drop back just a bit and I know that he faces the horde of Unconsecrated just a little more than an arm's length away.

“Move,” I want to yell but again I'm silent. I can feel Jed and Harry noiselessly chant the same word.

With one hand and then another Travis eases his way toward us. The moaning of the Unconsecrated fills us, washes over us all as the rope dips from his weight, dropping him closer to the hordes beneath him.

I realize that the barrel carrying both Argos and me was too much weight. We must have loosened the knots or overstrained the fibers of the rope.

The world is too bright at that moment, the light of a dying day, the sun sharp in my eyes as I watch Travis make his way to our platform.

The rope dips lower, strains under his weight, and suddenly there's a new sound. A popping as the old rope begins to unravel.

I move forward but Harry's hands hold me back. “There is nothing we can do,” he says but I shrug him off.

I slide to the edge of the platform, snaking forward on my stomach until I am as far out over the void as I dare.

“Travis,” I call out. “Travis, you must hurry.”

He shakes his head, his hands now frozen. One of the Unconsecrated stumbles out of the attic, onto the porch and lunges for him. As he falls he hits the rope, sending it swaying and causing even more popping sounds.

The rope dips even lower, impossibly low. The Unconsecrated beneath Travis are in a frenzy now. Straining up, their fingers seeming to grow closer to him with each breath.

“Travis, you have to listen to me.” He shakes his head again. I can feel the tears choking my words, closing my throat.

“The rope is snapping,” Jed says to me, his voice soft so that Travis can't hear. “He won't make it.”