I shoved Bastiaan over the dune crest. His limp body tumbled down the slope at a wild speed. I skidded after him, groaning at the relief of the cool sand his body unearthed. The scuttling increased. The scorpions crested the top of the dune and tumbled down our side like crunchy balls of fire and venom, leaving sand trails in their wake. How were they so fast?

Bastiaan rolled to a stop feet from the Trial wall. The exit. I didn’t slow but crashed right into him, sending us both toppling toward the mist.

It wasn’t enough.

We were inches away. Mere inches. I had no way of knowing if crossing the mist would stop the onslaught of Trial creatures, but I shoved Bastiaan’s body anyway. Pushed. Howled curses against the Trial. I was so close, the mist a mere handbreadth away. Bastiaan felt as heavy as a slab of stone.

The scorpions reached the base of the dune. Was it my imagination or could I hear them breathing? Panting? Salivating?

They’d be on me in seconds. My survival instinct built in panic, urging me to abandon Bastiaan and bolt through the mist. Go to the Well. Come back for him. The temptation tasted sour on my tongue and yet addictive.

“No!” I bellowed against the sky. “I will either die with him or for him! You can’t have one without the other!” I gave another shove. The scorpions leaped upon my macerated feet, teeth and tails striking my nerves like serrated knife blades.

I brushed them away from Bastiaan and gave another push, but it hardly got the toe of his boot through the mist.

My strength was gone.

I threw my body over his, wrapped myself around him as a shield, and waited for the scorpions to devour us with stingers and fangs and whatever mad weapons the enchanted Trial had given them.

The attack stopped.

Had time frozen again? I peeked my eyes open. The scorpions were gone. More than that, the heat was gone. This was something more than Bastiaan’s Talent. Sounds pricked the air. Time was definitely still moving.

Bastiaan lay as one dead. Urgency writhed in my chest. Whatever this moment of grace, I needed to take advantage of it. We needed out.

Now.

I forced myself to rise. To grip his tattered clothing and give one last effort. I prayed the Well was right on the other side of the mist. Bastiaan slid against the sand, hardly an inch. The ground pulsed beneath his body, awakened by the movement. Like a sleeping ocean yawning.

Hungry.

Sand rose around Bastiaan like a coffin and consumed him, pulling him into the earth as though it were as soft as dough.

“No!” I gripped his wrist, but his very skin dissolved beneath my fingers.