A slow thud ricocheted through my head, and I swallowed thickly. Never had warping to another place ever hurt. Not even when I’d been young and I’d failed to make my intentions clear before entering the void. I’d ended up slamming into the base of the same tree I’d attempted to leave near our cottage in the woods.

That had left a bruise, on both my forehead and my ego, as my father had laughed for hours, but nothing else.

An acidic film coated my tongue. A haze fogged my every thought.

In the kitchen, a carafe of water sat beside the sink. I cared not how long it might have been there. I drained half of it while slumped against the countertop. With each swallow, the ringing in my ears decreased, and the volume of the city outside slowly rose.

I could wait, and it would have been wise to do so considering I’d just broken a potion’s binds upon me. I had no idea how long the effects of doing such a thing might last—whether it would be hours or days, or if there would be other repercussions to come.

But I had to leave. I had to find him.

I dropped the carafe and took to the stairs leading down to the damp cobblestone streets.

A misty rain fell, casting the already unbalanced world I’d entered in a gray gloom. I clung to the railing at the bottom of the stairs, dizzy and blinking hard in an effort to clear it.

Wagons filled with stone passed by, carted downhill with large, armor-clad warriors following. Some carried shovels over their shoulders, others sacks of building materials.

From all of their sides and backs hung swords and blades.

One of them sniffed the air after releasing a barked bout of laughter with his comrade, his sharp hazel gaze darting to me. As he stared, the wind curled the red hair around his cheeks and revealed the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

Unmoving, I stared back, tempted to ask him for Scythe. Tempted to ask if it was over, and if I was too late.

But fear of the unknown kept me utterly, breathlessly still.

The wolf warrior peeled his attention from me as his group trundled on, and I released a wheezed breath. I coughed, smothering the sound of it with my hand. Something wet smeared my lips and cheek. I could chase them. Ask them of the commander’s whereabouts and well-being. They would likely ask why I needed to know. Perhaps they’d even demand to know who I was.

I didn’t care. That was why I was here. I had to know. Fear couldn’t overpower the need I had to make sure he was okay. So I followed the wolves downhill, my gown billowing in the wind and my steps uneven.