Kaden stared. The shock of the attack had so disordered his mind that any thought of reaching for the vaniate had been jarred free. Without the warning, he would have stepped through the gate and into his own obliteration.

“I don’t know if I can,” he said quietly.

At his side, Matol just snorted, then pressed the knife deep enough into his skin to draw blood.

“Ah, the vaniate,” he mused. “The Shin methods are so much more . . . humane than ours, but they do have their limitations. You have to court the emptiness, woo it.” He pursed his lips, shook his head in disgust. “Our way has fallen out of favor with the monks, but,” he shrugged, “you can’t argue with the result.”

A few paces off, the kenta loomed out of the darkness, the slender arch of stone tossing back the lamplight at strange angles. The man hauling Triste—Kaden didn’t recognize him—carried her through over his shoulder without a moment of hesitation. Kiel was shoved through a few heartbeats after. Kaden scrambled to find the wide empty space of the trance, reached for the bird that had guided him through before. As though frightened off by the chaos in his mind, the bird refused to alight. He called it, and it fled. He strained for the vaniate, and he failed.

Matol watched him with a hungry smile.

“Having a little bit of difficulty letting go? The calm not coming as easily as you’d hoped?”

As he spoke, he pressed the tip of the knife deeper. Kaden could feel his own blood trickling over the clavicle and down his chest.

“Don’t let the pain distract you,” Matol chuckled. “It would be a shame to lose your focus now.”

The pain. Kaden dove into the sensation, leaning into the knife, pressing it farther into his neck until the bright ache lanced down his collar and shoulder, up into his jaw. Matol was shoving him toward the kenta, but Kaden closed his eyes, concentrating on that pain, watching it spread like a growing plant, green tendrils driving into the cracks of his mind, breaking apart the edifice of thought. Matol was saying something, but Kaden ignored it, letting the bright green pain lace through him until there was no emotion left, nothing but the wide blank of the vaniate.

Now, he realized. It has to be now, right on the other side.

He opened his eyes in time to see the kenta looming before him, then stepped through.

The Ishien were waiting on the other side, just a pace from the gate, but they were watching Kiel and Triste. Kaden gave them no time to respond.