The longer I stared at the strange new creature half buried in sand, the larger it seemed. And then . . . its tail twitched. It shook sand from its body and, despite the fact that it was an insect, it angled its spiny face upward and looked at me.

“Bastiaan . . .”

I glanced up to find his jaw set in grim determination. “Myrthe . . . I’m sorry. My Talent is failing us.”

“It’s not. You’re not!” I took his face in my hands. We had mere seconds. But this was important enough to risk them. “We can do this, Bastiaan. You and me. We were made to do this. Together.”

He leaned his forehead against mine, then nodded.

For a moment we were one. United in thought and heart and pulse. I felt the most human in this brief breath.

Then the roar sounded again. Behind us. We separated and faced the desert. As though incited by our gaze, a dune exploded, pelting our faces with scorpions and burning sand. I covered my face, but Bastiaan cried out. I squinted against the onslaught of sand.

The dune had become a great hand and wrapped around Bastiaan’s midsection. He fought against it, but the hand yanked him down. Into the sand.

He disappeared, swallowed by the grains.

“Bastiaan!” I dove for him. I dug, but with every scoop I shoved to the side, sand poured into the hole to fill it. “Bastiaan!”

The scorpions regained their footing and converged to where I knelt. I continued digging.

Then, with a roar that only enchanted nature could make, the sand roiled again and a dark form went shooting through the air. Bastiaan landed, his body skidding through the sand until it stopped at the base of the mist entrance.

He didn’t move.

I stumbled to him and gently grabbed his shoulder. “Bastiaan?”

He groaned and pushed himself up to standing, shaking off a layer of sand. He moved stiffly and blinked against the sun. His eyes looked glassy, unfocused, and they skimmed right over me.

“Are you okay?” He’d been under the sand for what seemed like several minutes. At least he was alive.

He didn’t respond. He seemed confused.

“We need to get to safety.” I took his hand. “Follow me.” I could lead him for now, as long as we moved.

The bear’s roar from the other side of the mist captivated his attention. Bastiaan frowned at the mist, flicking his gaze up and down as though seeing it for the first time. Had he hit his head during his crash to earth? I tried to tug him forward, but he lifted a hand to brush his fingers along the granules of Summer dust.

“Bastiaan!” I yelled, though we were inches apart. “We need to go.”

Finally he turned toward the desert once more. But before we took a single step, a colossal bear paw ruptured the mist, claws extended like knives.