Night fell like snow, a cool comfort to the harsh sun from the day. The Fire Temple lay to rest on its bed in the oasis, dark and hollow and hushed. Yes, hushed, but Sienna recognized the quiet as more than a sleeping silence. It was the absence of sound, the absence of people. This silence was one of dense loss and suppressed grief, hanging in the crisp night air like a biting insult. Some households would have empty beds that night.

Sienna wondered how long the Diaz household on Earth had kept an empty bed for her.

"I hope you realize that I will be the least helpful of all to you."

There he was. After being threatened into swearing to meet her in the alleyway they'd met at that night, the boy had left and Sienna had returned to House Nazirad. She'd been hoping to find Zimorrah but had been told she had left Azarahn for the day, and now she was here, cloaked in the darkness of night and ready for action.

"I don't even know where Fajhiro's personal chambers are, much less how to infiltrate the Fire Temple itself," he continued in a harsh whisper. "Do you even know what you're doing? Do you have a plan?"

Sienna furrowed her eyebrows, her gaze tracing the temple from its spires all the way down to its steps, catching the open windows, the crevices in the architecture, the looming darkness within. "What is your name?"

"Hassan."

"And mine is Farrah here. You would truly think to give me a name you'd given yourself for Azarahn?"

He crossed his arms. "You would have been embarrassed if that had been my real name."

She allowed a tight smile, sparing a glance at him before turning back to the temple. "And now you are embarrassed because it wasn't."

Glimpsing a small light in the depths of one of the windows, Sienna stood from her crouching position and crossed the street to the next alleyway, the boy following.

"Envre," he said after a moment. "It's Envre. I'm from Iru—I-I think."

"Iru. I have not been to that one. How many worlds have you been in?"

"This is my . . ." He paused, a shadow passing over his face. "I don't remember. I stopped counting after the hundredth."

Something constricted in her chest, and Sienna reeled back. "Hundredth?"

"You?"

"This is my fiftieth."

They rushed to another alleyway, inching ever nearer to the Fire Temple, and Sienna could not stop her gut from wrenching and throbbing. Over a hundred worlds, and this Envre had only been a Matchlight for seven years—not her eleven. Why would he be so quick to change worlds? Why was Azarahn a further world for him? She turned back to him for a brief moment. He was so young.

Envre huffed. "If you're not going to tell me what you have planned, then why am I here? Listen, I'll just leave you be and go—"

"You're not going anywhere. Look." She pointed, her gaze once again fixed on the light. "Someone is still awake. It may be Fajhiro. The temple doors are unguarded, so we can slip inside and make our way to the upper floors. No one else is even around."

"You won't be able to get in."

"Listen to me. Go across the street first. Wait for me, and once I cross, hide behind the stairwell over there in the shadows. I'll climb the stairs and signal—"

"Scale it."

She whirled around. "What?"

That expression, so alight with intrigue and yet so clouded with wisdom, so fearful in a way that made it appear he was a young coward—more than simply cautious—but Sienna knew better. Envre had lived over a hundred lives. He had over a hundred names. Yes, he was so young, as unsure of himself as any youth. But his eyes were old and weary, full and dark with experience. He knew things—more things than she did.

Envre straightened, regarding the Fire Temple again. "You could scale it. Step up onto the first window, grab that entablature of that pillar, pull up onto the attached triangular pediment, get up to the windowsill above that, and you're there. No guards. No navigation."

"Angoff? You were an architect?"

With a wordless nod, Envre crossed the street, melting into the moonlight-forsaken nook near the stairwell. Sienna followed shortly after, head ducked down as she passed into shadow, and Envre gestured to the first window. Glancing around and seeing no one, she followed Envre's instructions one by one. She stepped onto the windowsill. Then, with a grunt that echoed in the silence of night, she gripped the top of the pillar and swung a leg onto the pediment, hoisting herself up. She dared to look down.

"Envre," she hissed, barely audible. "Get up here."

He shook his head, leaning against the back of the stairwell and sinking down to a crouch. "I'll wait for you here."

"Come up."

Again, he shook his head. Stubborn. Afraid.

"I can't do this alone, Envre. Stand up and scale the temple."

In the darkness, the glint in his eyes shifted to the window with the faint light, which was slowly retreating into the depths of the chambers. Then he resigned and hugged his knees to his chest. Though Sienna had a hard time making out his face, his tone was apologetic. "I'll wait here."

"Do you even want to return home? Besides, if I were to get killed while I'm inside alone, it would be your fault. Now come."

A moment passed before Envre staggered to his feet, shooting her a glare she could only feel as he climbed to where she was with nimble ease.

Sienna grinned. "Were you a thief in Vrill?"

"You obviously weren't," he scoffed, but no arrogance traced his cornered expression.

"No, I wasn't." She glanced up at the window where the light was. "You say we just go in?"

"Your death wish, your plan."

Planting her hands onto the windowsill, she pulled herself halfway up and gazed inside. Darkness. The light was gone. Placing a knee on the sill, she lifted—slipped—

A scream ripped itself from her throat as she fell, only for her wrist to be wrenched upwards. Envre.

His vice-like grip tightened, and he placed a frantic finger to his lips, his eyes trained on the window above. Silently urging her onto the pediment, Envre flattened himself against the wall underneath the windowsill as the flickering light suddenly illuminated above them. Sienna squeezed her eyes shut. The dense, velvety darkness had pressed upon her before, but the presence of the light pushed. It pushed her against the wall, pushed her into the shadows, pushed the air out of her lungs and forced her to hold her breath.

Then the light left, and Sienna and Envre were left to wait.

Ever so slowly, Envre peeled himself off the wall and peered into the window once more.

"It's clear," he whispered before lifting himself up onto the sill with the fluidity of water. He extended a hand. "Try to be quiet this time, hm?"

They crept inside the Fire Temple.

A bedroom. They were in a bedroom. Unlike the long cushion that had been Sienna's bed the previous night, a canopied bed lay in the corner of the room, gossamer sheets softly dancing in the desert breeze like hovering wraiths. Ornamented furniture and lavish pillows Whoever had the light was gone.

"Well?" asked Envre, his voice so soft she could hardly hear him. "He's not here."

"These are probably his chambers. We could find him now, see what he's doing."

Envre raised his eyebrows. "Or we could wait safely in here for his return."

Shrugging, Sienna drew the blade she'd stolen from dinner at House Nazirad and crossed the room to hide behind the open door. Envre crouched near the bed, close to the door and still concealed.

They sat in silence, and Sienna felt the weight of formless darkness surround her again. She inhaled, reminded of Djianora. The governor's house had been this dark, this stuffy and yet crisp. Dim moonlight had spilled like milk between the fluttering dust motes in the same way, flooding the spaces with spidery shadows spun with black silk. The hush. That was it. Balmy, consoling—and tense. Sienna didn't make a sound. She didn't move a muscle despite picturing the darkest shadows as blood, the scrolls on one of the tables as a theft report, and the pillows in the bed as a woman named Emmai.

"I don't see any more light," said Envre with the softest feathering of breath. "Do you think it was a guard?"

Sienna blinked, and Azarahn replaced Djianora. "Do any of the citizens use beds like this?"

"No," he answered.

"And it's still untidy. Someone is bound to come back."

"What if no one does and we miss our chance?"
"Then we can try again tomorrow night."

Even in the darkness, Envre's face clearly grimaced. "We could search."

"We could." She considered it. "But let's wait a bit longer."

Nothing but the wind gently whistling in their ears disrupted the silence that was so crushing it rang. Rang like the bells calling for the geihs. Like the Matchlights that were snuffed out in Azarahn. Sienna clenched her fists. Fajhiro would send them home.

Don't play with fire!

"Let's go," she said, emerging from the shadows and grasping the door.

"Djia!" Envre yanked her from the door, standing and hiding with her behind the door as sudden, careful footsteps came from a distance.

The dim light had returned, seeping into the room as whoever was awake came closer and closer. Sienna pictured the opaque silhouette of the governor in his nightgown, the knife in her hand feeling more like a quill—a heavy quill, dipped in ink thick and dark as blood. Adrenaline rippled through her like the waves of the Djianoran sea, erratic and panicked.

All at once, a priest entered the room and shut the door, face blanching at the sight of Sienna and Envre in the corner. But before he could scream, Sienna rushed to him and clamped his mouth shut.

"Where are the Bright Flame's personal chambers?" she hissed.

The priest—likely a simple acolyte by his young age—shook his head, trying to scream again to no avail. Sienna clamped down harder.

"Shout, and you'll be thrown out the window." Envre stepped forward and snatched the lantern from the acolyte's hands, his voice low and dangerously calm. "Tell us what we want to know. Where is Fajhiro? Speak quietly."

Cautiously lifting her hand off the acolyte's mouth, Sienna watched as the acolyte trembled and spoke.

"H-he has two chambers. At night he locks himself in the western corridor." When no one moved, the acolyte shrunk back. "That's all I know! Please, I've done as you ask. Let me go!"

"We can't just leave him," said Sienna after a moment. "He'll alert the entire temple."

"But we will leave him." Envre gave her a slight nod. Trust me, his eyes seemed to say.

"Tell no one," she ordered the acolyte. "There will be blood if you do."

He nodded vigorously as they sat him down on his bed.

"Sleep, Acolyte," said Envre. "What we are doing will not cause you harm."

Don't touch fire. It will hurt you.

Then they fled the room, shutting the door with a soft click, and Envre led them around a corner before stopping.

"Wait," he said.

Sure enough, a few moments later, the acolyte opened his door and glanced around before starting to rush towards the stairs. Taking in a sharp breath, Envre grabbed the knife out of Sienna's hands and—with an experimental heft—threw it.

With a strangled cry, the acolyte collapsed.

"Paracii executioner?" Sienna guessed, the thought a welcome distraction from the sight of darkness blooming in the white soil of the acolyte's nightgown. She turned away, focusing on Envre's face instead of the quickly-dying.

"No," said Envre as they hid the body inside the room. "That one was from Earth."