Xara swallows her gasp and lunges for her friend. Lysabel tumbles out of sight and Xara's hands and arms scrape against the rough stone. She doesn't let the pain distract her, instead pulling wind like spools of thread from her fingertips. Owain and Derald rush to her side, concentrating with taut expressions.

Lysabel's cries echo as she falls, slowed by Xara's gales. Derald's arms shift and sway like the movement of water as he uses his magic to draw water from the lake to support her fall. Vieva is unable to help, restrained by the limits of her power. Xara dimly hears her frantic footsteps behind. Her mind is clear and determined, focused on the wind. She feels Lysabel's thin body in the wind and commands it to mold itself around her like arms. She feels as Lysabel becomes suspended in the air, held in place by the wind.

Relief blooms, but she doesn't let herself stop and relax. Her arms shake and tremble, and sweat dots her brow as the magic slowly starts to strain.

"Pull!" she bellows to the boys on either side of her. With a grunt, Owain heaves his arms up and the lake plants replace where Xara's wind had held up Lysabel. Owain steps back slowly, unsteady on his feet, jerking and twisting his arms.

Xara nearly collapses from exhaustion and relief when Lysabel's head comes into view. Her face is still frozen in terror, paralyzed, but her eyes slacken and empty as she realizes that she isn't going to plummet to her death.

"Thank the Founders," croaks Xara, pulling Lysabel into a tight, breath-squeezing hug. Lysabel's frail body folds into the hug and she alternates between sobbing and sighing with repose. Derald and Owain clamber around Xara and Lysabel, but don't crowd, though Xara can see from the corner of her vision as Owain sags from the strain. She too can feel the weight the magic has left on her and it feels as though she's dragging herself through quicksand with every movement but she holds onto Lysabel.

Tears prick in her eyes and the monotone darkness mesh into one. Xara pulls away, still keeping Lysabel at an arm's length.

"Are you alright?" Lysabel shakes her head mutely.

"We have to go." Vieva says, voice heavy with guilt for having to make them move so quickly. But she places a hand on Lysabel's shoulder as she does, squeezing gently. Lysabel seems numb with shock. Xara guides her friend to her feet.

"Vieva's right, Lysa," says Xara softly. "We have to get across before the Warlord does."

Lysabel nods. She still hasn't said a word. Derald bobs his chin at Xara, agreeing to move forward.

Xara doesn't peek over the edge; it'll make her stomach whirl.

"We need to figure out which bridge is the right one."

Vieva gives her a 'duh' look, which Xara promptly ignores. Glancing once at Lysabel, who still hasn't moved, Xara lopes to the right.

"Vieva, aim a blast at this one." Vieva complies, conjuring a fireball the size of her face.

"Careful," warns Derald. "We don't want you to burn out." Five seconds later, he snickers at his unintended pun. Then promptly shuts up at Vieva's lethal glare.

With a soft grunt, she hurls the flaming ball at the bridge. The fire comes in brief contact with the bridge and it withers away, as if it were never there.

Xara signals with her hands. "Guys, split up."

Lysabel attempts to follow but Xara prevents her. "No. You rest. We'll handle this. Just keep a lookout for us, okay?"

Lysabel looks like she wants to complain, but instead sits back down. Xara feels a twist of pity for her friend, who has endured so much more than she'd probably wanted to.

Vieva keels over lightly, resting her hands on her bent knees. She pants.

"How many of these bridges are left?"

The sound of breaking stone alerts Xara. Derald has crumbled another bridge.

"We have to be careful not to ruin the actual bridge." She reminds him. Derald nods absently, eyes glazed over slightly. Afraid he'll pitch over the edge, Xara bolts to him, slinging his arm around her shoulder and tugging him a safe distance from the cliffside.

"I'm not sure," answers Xara honestly.

Vieva licks her chapped lips, a weary but determined expression on her face. "I'll handle that side." Her wound is still mangled, a bright red sheen, but Xara knows it will only aggravate Vieva if she points it out. They'll get proper medical care for Vieva when they leave.

Xara sets Derald down then turns back to the bridges. She summons a breeze, and sends it galloping around the chamber, feeling her way. She notices that the bridges only extend in a half circle, and that there's a small island in the center, in which the bridges are connected to.

Xara brings her wind back, and it whips under her and to the next bridge, as she commands. That one crumbles again, eviscerated.

"I can help." Lysabel's tired voice comes.

"Rest, Lys. Vieva and I can handle this."

Lysabel harrumphs.

✡✡✡

Several minutes later, a shout comes from Vieva on the other side of the chamber just as Xara starts to waver. Her sight is blurred and her lungs feel like they've been sandpapered. Her magic may be a gift, but even it extracts a lethal toll when overused.

Derald, Owain, and Lysabel hurry to Vieva, who stands on bent legs and is sweating buckets. But her eyes are bright and fiery with triumph.

"I found the bridge!" she announces, punching a fist in the air. Then she winces, massaging her shoulder. Xara is filled with renewed hope. Her magic swells in her again. They have made it. And with the Warlord nowhere in sight. Even if there's the possibility of expulsion for them, at least they would've done something to stop the Warlord.

Xara pulls Vieva in for a brief hug. Vieva seizes, clearly unused to the sensation of being hugged, and awkwardly pats Xara's shoulder.

"Let's go."

"What if this one is also the wrong one?" Owain voices.

Vieva stares at Owain. "You don't trust me?"

"It's not that," refutes Owain hastily. "It's just, what if this is also a trick? What if it collapses in the middle or something?"

Vieva scoffs in disbelief. "What do you take me for, Snagsnout? Of course I checked the whole bridge."

Owain turns beet red and looks down at his feet.

"None of that, you two," scolds Xara gently. She toes the edge. "Look, I don't know what we'll find."

"But whatever it is," Lysabel steps forward, "we'll handle it together, right?" She smiles, but it looks dull.

Xara tucks the information away for later. Perhaps she's in more shock than she'd said from her fall. She makes a mental note to take Lysabel to the infirmary after they get out of this place. As Xara takes a cautionary step onto the bridge, her heart rends itself in two from the stress. She doesn't know if she has enough magic in her to keep her midair if she happens to fall. Xara edges out further into the bridge, jumping lightly.

She turns back, waving wildly at her companions. "It's safe. Let's go!"

There's a soft whimper as Owain hops onto the bridge, skittering close to Xara on his tiptoes.

Xara holds his arm gently. She smiles at him reassuringly. "I've got you. We'll go together, 'kay?"

He nods, face clearing slightly. Xara has come to feel fond for Owain Snagsnout in the past couple of weeks. He might not be as foolhardy or brash as the other boys, but he's smart in a good way, a way that others ought to be.

Vieva strides confidently behind them, Derald and Lysabel taking the back.

All her life, Xara had never imagined herself to be worthy of being a Storm. She'd always been... Xara, the youngest daughter of the Roffinnes. When her parents had learned of her abilities, and the troubles that would come with it, they'd worried for her. Less because of the connection to the Warlord. They hadn't thought her capable of harnessing such magic. Leonah's screech echoes in her mind, a familiar beacon. Before Leonah had crashed through the window, she'd imagined that all of this had been a fluke, and that her true magic had been waiting to reveal itself.

But she knows now. She is a Storm, and she does deserve this magic. No matter what happens.

Xara and Owain land on the stone pillar, waiting for the others.

"I can't believe you actually made it," says Lysabel as the five of them gather on the island. It's large, the stone platform, but half of it is shadowed in darkness.

"I know," a smile curves on Xara's face, but then falls away. "Wait. You?"

The word had hardly left her mouth when a slithering sensation slides around her, slippery and thick and oily. Lysabel smiles, half of her face bathed in darkness. But it's less of a smile, more of a baring of teeth. Her eyes are dark, dark green, like the scales of a snake.

Vieva narrows her eyes, lips curling. "What did you do, Lysabel?"

Their roommate shrugs. "I did what was asked of me."

"And a fine job you did, too, Miss Axelane."

Xara whirls at that voice, that voice that had haunted her mind. No. No, no, no! We made it before him!

The Warlord laughs, the sound bouncing off the chamber. Owain looks close to tears, a hurt expression on his face as he stares at Lysabel.

Xara can't decide whether to focus on the fact that her friend betrayed them for the worst man alive, or on the Warlord, who still hasn't shown himself.

"My dear girl," he cooes. "You can't have really thought you could beat me. I will admit that you are cleverer than I imagined. I didn't expect you to solve the puzzle in my journal so quickly."

"Show yourself!" shouts Vieva, but her voice comes out strangled. Her strength has waned as well.

Xara takes a half step back as a face appears from the dark. It's the first time she truly has seen the Warlord.

She nearly falls over in shock.

It's as though she's looking in a mirror. Same slate gray eyes, and wild black hair. Same pointed chin, and angular eyes. Tears spring forth as her horror takes form.

He laughs in delight at her face.

"When I heard that Alisud's grandaughter was a Storm, well, I was quite shocked, as you'd imagine. I thought I was the only one left. But then I found you and was pleasantly surprised." His smile widens, likening him to a madman. "I have grand plans for you, Xara Roffinnes."

"I want no part in them."

"Ah, but you haven't even heard what they are!"

Xara grinds her teeth. "Save it, Cynem." She bites his name and for a moment, his jaw twitches in annoyance. "I came here to stop you and that's what I'm going to do." Thunder rumbles above. "Trust me."

He sighs melodramatically. "I was afraid you'd choose to be a martyr." An ugly sneer appears on his face. "Have it your way."

With a flash of silver, the very sword he'd handed to Vieva instantly is there, pointed at Vieva's chest. With a sardonic half-smile, and a flick of his wrist, the sword flies.

 >>AUTHOR'S NOTES:

we're so close! i couldn't write for two weeks with finals, but I'm back and promise to get you the last few chapters within the next week or two. afterwards, I'll be debuting a new book, my summer project (yay!) which now officially has a name:

Deathdancer... [cue the gasps.]

I know, I'm excited too. more so than I have been for any other series, because this one is centered around asian culture. the entire world is based off of Asian landscape and geography and food and myths. I'm asian myself and never once have I felt ashamed of being so. i wanted to write this story to highlight the beauty of asia and I'll work my very hardest to show y'all;)

anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! only a few more to go!

happy pride month!

raniaditi