Someone was singing. The melody trickled through Asher's muddled thoughts, quiet and hauntingly familiar. It was an old song, about a lone wanderer as he watched night creep across the land. Simple, really, but every word rang with meaning. A song of emptiness, of loss. Asher had always been fond of it; the lyrics rose unbidden in his throat as he listened, submerged in his own darkness.

Then, without warning, fear surged through Asher's veins, jolting him from the welcoming embrace of sleep. His senses returned in quick, painful flashes—bitter air against his face, dry dirt beneath his fingers, rough bark pressed into his cheek. The song came into a sharper focus; a new voice, close and tinged with annoyance, soon joined it.

"He's still fighting me."

A spark of recognition broke through Asher's daze. He began shaking himself awake, memories flooding through him. Screaming. The Valkir. Kain.

Hannah.

The singing faded just as the realization struck Asher, leaving a gaping hole in his heart. He heard a few footsteps, and then Rivas spoke. "Wake up, boy. I know you can hear us."

Not eager to be kicked again, Asher slowly turned his head and forced his eyes open. Rivas was kneeling on his left, Kain his right. His gaze slipped past them to the forest, unfamiliar and drenched in shadows. He was propped against the stump of a tree, with nothing to protect him from the bitter wind but his ragged clothes. Somebody had untied him; Asher stared at his wrists for a long moment, befuddled. How much time had passed?

Rivas sat back with a yawn. "There. He's awake."

"Lucky me." Asher's words were slurred and distant; he closed his eyes and mumbled a curse. He felt so very, very tired.

"Pity," Kain sighed. "I enjoyed the silence."

Another flood of unnatural terror raced through Asher. He sat up with a gasp, instinctively scrambling away from Kain before he was once again struck by crippling exhaustion.

"What are you...?" he gasped, struggling into a sitting position.

"Waking you up." Kain glanced at Rivas. "Most of the drug's gone now."

"Good. Let's not waste any more time." Rivas stood and met Asher's eyes, extending one hand. Asher reached up without thinking, and the Valkir pulled him to his feet. Asher's legs buckled; he staggered a few steps forward before righting himself.

Four horses stood a few yards away, their pale coats nearly gleaming in the darkness. Asher slowly raised a hand to his head, sure he was hallucinating. But no, Idris stood right beside one, rummaging through its saddlebags.

"Skies, where did they come from?" he finally managed.

"Soren." Kain placed a hand on Asher's shoulder, pushing him toward the nearest horse. Asher flinched away, but, still clumsy with sleep, tripped over a root. Kain seized the neck of his shirt; for one horrible moment, Asher was suspended midair, choking.

Laughing, Kain wrenched Asher upright and shoved Asher back at the horse. Asher fell against the beast's side, coughing and gulping the freezing air. Sick humiliation rose in his chest, unfamiliar and disarming. He curled his fingers into the horse's fur.

"Get on," Kain ordered, amusement tilting his words. Asher shuddered at the sound of his voice, another, different wave of memories breaking through him. A shadow, flitting through the market crowd like a ghost. Hannah's eyes when she spotted it—not fearful or angry, but sad. Endlessly, achingly sad. She had looked so old.

"No," Asher growled, his voice breaking.

A sharp crack was Asher's only warning before the world exploded into a blinding flash of light. Searing agony shredded through his body, seizing his muscles and filling his veins with fire. He howled and wrenched himself sideways, but the light followed. He hardly even noticed striking the ground—there was nothing but that terrible pain.

Then, suddenly, it was over. Asher's forehead was pressed into the earth; blood, fresh and metallic, filled his mouth. He spat it out and dragged his gaze up to Rivas, panting. Lightning flickered around the Valkir's hands, edged with a bloody red light. His eyes were as cold as steel.

"Kain," he said slowly. "Go get ready. I'll handle this."

Kain rolled his eyes and moved forward. He slowed as he brushed past Asher, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Word of advice, kid: don't get on Rivas' bad side. Believe me, I've been there."

Rivas walked to Asher's side and pulled him up for the second time. He waited as Asher struggled to get his feet under him, wrapped in silence. Asher twisted his arm away as soon as he could, fear and pain coiling around his throat.

"If you don't want to get hurt, you'd be wise to listen." Rivas said, breaking the silence. "Understood?"

Asher kept his eyes trained on the ground. "Yes."

"Do you need help getting on the horse?"

Asher glanced up at the horse's saddle, then his hands. He hardly had the energy to keep standing. "No. Yes. I'll figure it out."

"Idiot boy," Rivas sighed. "Here, I'll lift you."

The resignation was like a knife, sharp and sudden and horrible. Asher took a shaky breath and hopped up, barely managing to get his foot into the stirrup before he began to slip. Rivas helped him scramble the rest of the way up the horse, vanishing the moment Asher got himself into the saddle.

Asher's gaze fell to his hands, wrapped around the cold leather. They were dirty, and covered in cuts he didn't remember receiving. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop them from trembling. The knife twisted.

Idris clicked her tongue; with a start, Asher realized the others had already mounted. She set off through the trees, side by side with Kain. Asher's horse lagged behind, oblivious to its rider. Rivas hung nearby, no doubt to keep Asher from trying anything.

Asher just stared at his saddle, clutching the freezing leather like a lifeline. Questions. He needed to keep the fear at bay, distract himself. He stole a glance at Rivas, forcing himself to speak. "How did... how did the king get the horses here?"

"Magic. And he can do far more, too." Kain, only a few feet ahead, glanced over his shoulder. Asher looked back down, feeling like a coward but unable to bring himself to meet the man's eyes. The way he spoke... so casually, as if to a friend. It made his skin crawl.

"Kain," Idris snapped.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Rivas snickered. Asher swung his head around, but the Valkir's blank mask was already back in place. Kain grumbled something but turned around; Asher practically sagged in relief. He waited a while before speaking again, lowering his voice to a whisper so only Rivas could hear. "Where are we going?"

Rivas was silent for so long, Asher began to think he wasn't going to answer. When he did, his words were equally as hushed. "You know where."

"Crisea." The word sounded like a death sentence. Asher felt something inside of him twist, and he closed his eyes. He couldn't lose his head, not now. Not like this.

"Yes."

Break the world down. The feeling of the horse's coarse mane beneath Asher's fingers. The pounding of its hooves. The crispness of the air. The soft shadows that cradled the forest. The faint song of crickets. The beating of his heart, frantic and desperate but still there. The feeling of being alive. Breathe.

"Did you..." Asher cleared his throat, taking another lungful of the icy air. He opened himself to the movement of the forest, but the magic remained stubbornly out of reach. The hole in his chest widened. "Did you fix the drug?"

Again, Rivas' response took some time to come. "Idris and I strengthened it. We're not sure how long it will last." He turned his head, eyes flinty. "But I'll know when it fades, so don't try anything."

Asher's mouth twisted, and he looked away. "I know." He swallowed. "Do you know why I... why the drug doesn't...?"

"No."

Asher risked another glance at Rivas, but it was impossible to tell if the Valkir was lying. He squeezed his eyes shut again, feeling strangely small. Kain's presence continued to weigh on him, crushing his heart with a sickening mixture of emotions. The man who had murdered his sister, only a few feet away. Asher's throat suddenly felt very dry.

How old had Kain been when he killed Hannah?

No.

He was probably younger than Asher was now.

Stop thinking about it.

Was it hard? She'd always been so kind, so gentle. It was a miracle that she'd been able to hold Kain off for so long, really. Then again, all she had wanted to do was give Asher time. And she had.

Stop!

He had seen her try to talk to Kain, before the battle began. Did he still remember her words?

Asher coughed, doubling over to hide his face. He grasped for the anger he'd first felt toward Kain, but all he felt was a strange hollowness. He was alone, surrounded by three murderers, and, if he was to be honest with himself, scared out of his mind. All Asher could think was how badly he wanted to be somewhere—anywhere—else. Such a childish desire, such an impossible wish.

"Are you cold?"

"What?" Asher's voice came out hoarse. He swiped a tear from his eye and looked up at Rivas, silently daring him to say something. Instead, the assassin reached into his saddlebag, pulled out a cloak, and tossed it over. Asher fumbled with the cloth, nearly dropping it in his surprise.

"There. Can't have you freezing to death."

A part of Asher wanted to throw it away. The other, more sensible side was terribly aware of how ble his fingers looked. He muttered a curse and put the cloak on, struggling to secure it around his neck. It wasn't very thick or warm, but it blocked out most of the wind. He flicked the hood over his head and leaned forward, so that his face was well and truly hidden. At least he didn't have to keep facing the man next to him.

Asher couldn't think of any more questions. He pressed his hands against the horse's neck for warmth, closing his eyes. Right now, he needed to keep himself alive. There would be an opportunity, something that he could do.

There had to be.

<><><>

"Asher."

The hazy, numb trance that Asher had fallen into shattered. He jumped, nearly falling out of his saddle as he met Rivas' eyes. They'd stopped; the other two Valkir were standing some distance away, watching him. Idris wore an odd expression, like that of a cat stalking its prey. Dread shivered down Asher's spine. Something was wrong.

"Hey." Rivas snapped his fingers, drawing Asher's attention back to him. "Get down and follow me."

"What?"

"Follow. Me."

Biting his lip, Asher swung his leg over the horse and jumped down. Rivas turned and walked deeper into the forest, away from the other Valkir. Asher hesitantly followed, his heart thudding in his ears. Wind howled through the trees above them, tearing at his cloak with a frenzied anger. Stars glittered between the dancing branches, pinpricks of ice in a frigid black sea. It was even darker than when they'd set off—shadows clogged every empty space.

Asher grimaced. This was the kind of night he used to dread, imagining countless beasts lurking in the darkness. He should've known that the true monsters had no reason to hide.

"Where are we going?" he asked, warily surveying the trees.

"Here." Rivas stopped under a tree and turned around, his gaze analytical. "I needed quiet."

"What for?"

Rivas leaned back, apparently oblivious to the bitter cold. "We have a... valued associate tracking down your friends. I need to know what she'll be up against when she catches up to them."

"So she can kill them all?" Asher growled, shoving down the newfound fear flooding through him. He'd had to fight through pain before, but this... Asher closed his eyes for a second. No. He couldn't let himself be afraid, or he'd break like a twig. "If you don't want people to get hurt, just leave them alone. They haven't done anything."

"You know I can't do that," Rivas said quietly.

Asher swallowed. "So what? You're going to torture me?"

"Not exactly."

As Rivas spoke, something slammed against Asher's mind. He recoiled, instinctively deflecting the blow. The pressure increased; Asher winced, steadily enforcing his barriers.

"You know," Rivas said, drawing closer. His voice changed suddenly, harsh and mocking. Like a different person. "This whole thing is ironic, really. Your sister sacrificed herself to save you, but you might die at Kain's hands anyways."

Asher sucked in a sharp breath as his concentration slipped. No...

"Do you hear me, boy?" Rivas stepped forward, grabbing Asher's hair and forcing his head upwards. Asher clawed at the man's wrist, horrified and desperate. "You are going to die, alone and afraid. Just like Hannah."

Asher froze, shock and rage and panic surging through him all at once. A new presence tore through his mind before he could recover, deadly and sharp as any sword. Rivas released him; Asher cried out and fell to his knees, clutching his head as it shredded through his thoughts.

"Where are they going?" Rivas hissed from someplace far away.

An image of Aurum's family—the one that the dragon had shown Asher—flashed before his eyes. The foreign presence cut deeper, sending bolts of pain through his head. Asher whimpered, curling in on himself as memories flooded to the fore of his mind, memories he didn't want there. Serafina, water dancing around her hands as she dared him to a duel. Kira, sitting with Henry as he told her folktales. Aurum, silhouetted against the sun as he searched for the other dr—

"Go away!"

The sword vanished. Asher came back to the physical world, lying on the icy ground with his arms wrapped around his head. He couldn't breathe; everything hurt. Slowly, carefully, he uncurled himself and looked up, wincing as the dim starlight pierced his eyes. Rivas had stumbled away, pressing one hand to his temple. He looked exhausted.

"Kain, Idris!" he shouted, lowering his hand.

Not a minute later, the two Valkir emerged from the darkness. Kain looked between Asher and Rivas, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

"There are other dragons. A whole clan, not far from where we found the boy. Kain, I need you to warn Rhea and report to Soren. Idris... find something to calm him down." Rivas wearily waved a hand at Asher. "We may need to wait another half hour."

A new pain sliced through Asher's heart. The Valkir knew about the only shelter his friends had. They'd be slaughtered.

Kain nodded and left, but Idris lingered. "Why?"

"The boy's mental state is... more fragile than I expected. He'll need time to recover." Rivas paused. "As do I."

Fragile. Asher flinched as Idris stalked away. How much had that man seen? He stared at Rivas' boots, trembling. "Y-you shouldn't be able to do that."

"And you shouldn't have been able to contact that dragon after I severed his bond. Magic is flexible."

"I..." Asher's voice faltered, and he squeezed his eyes shut. His head hurt so badly. It had all happened so fast. He dug his fingers into the dirt, willing the tears to go away.

Rivas sighed and sat down. Asher tensed as the assassin produced a flask and offered it, running his other hand through his hair. "Here."

"I'm not taking that... that shikat again."

"You do know your Nemarian... Relax, it's only water." At Asher's disbelieving look, Rivas lifted the flask and took a sip. He held it out again, tilting his head. "See?"

Asher warily took the flask and let a few drops wet his tongue. It really was water—he gulped it down, sighing in relief as the liquid eased the ache in his throat. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was.

"Don't drink all of it," Rivas said, exasperated.

Asher ignored him. As soon as the flask was empty, he tossed it as hard as he could into the trees. A hollow laugh escaped him as Rivas froze, shock flitting across his face. "Vo laeko vai, Rivas."

"That's rather impolite of you," Rivas replied absently.

"And breaking into my mind is the picture of civility." Asher brought a hand to his cheek. It came away wet. "Hunting down and murdering innocent people is so refined."

"I never said it was."

There was a long, aching silence. "Did you mean what you said?"

"What?"

"That I'm..." Asher paused, choking on his own fear. "That I'm going to die."

"No, I... simply needed to break your concentration."

"But the others are."

"That is the goal."

Asher closed his eyes, guilt clawing up his throat. Why was he worried about himself? At least he had time. He shouldn't have... he'd given up his friends, and it had taken Rivas less than a minute. He'd failed them. Betrayed them.

And now they were going to pay.