The sky above her began to swirl, the storm coming to life. She hesitated, eyes wild as they took in the scene.

The girl spoke once more. ‘The storm is you. It will obey.’

Sapphire attempted to block out the voice. The mysterious words only caused her panic to grow.

Three paces. That was all she needed to reach the girl.

The shadows parted slightly, and Sapphire was close enough to see her outline. Her stomach clenched at the thought of being this close as the lightning struck. Close enough to hear what it sounded like when the electricity split her bones.

From the shadows, she saw a pale hand emerge, the crack of thunder filling the air, and in an act of desperation and terror, she lunged for the girl.

The second their hands touched, lightning struck – and the world went black.

When Sapphire awoke, the musky scent of a campfire flooded her senses. Despite her poor excuse for a bed, whatever she was lying on now somehow managed to be even more uncomfortable.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes, taking in her surroundings.

No draughty windows that let in too much winter air, no row of beds that she and the others had long outgrown, no Martia yelling that they were already behind on their morning chores. This was not the Home.

The world around her was vivid, with large raised plateaus and basins formed from brilliant stone varying in shades of deep red, tans, and oranges in every direction. This was nothing like Witrotean. She pushed off from the ground, and on to her feet.

Mercy, nothing about this was familiar. Sapphire breathed the smallest sigh of relief when she felt the familiar weight of her dagger at her hip. She picked a direction at random and began to walk.

The old makeshift nightgown that draped over her thin frame was ripped and ruined. Martia would be livid. Her shoes were missing as well – mercy, she might as well never return.

There was no clear direction. No obvious pathway. But she continued to move forward – turning right … and then left … but nothing looked familiar.

After about a mile, her feet begged for relief. The terrain tore her skin and a trail of bloody footsteps now stretched behind her.

In her despair, she almost missed the movement to her left – almost. She hurried to slip behind a tall tree, peeking around the trunk to get a better look.

A dark-skinned girl, who looked around Sapphire’s age, was sitting on a quilt with her legs stretched out, reading. Her lips were slightly parted, brows knitted in focus as she hurried to turn the page, engrossed in the story.

Sapphire watched for a few more moments as she smiled at the book with such innocence that Sapphire felt guilty.