I shiver at the sight, praying no one I care about is caught on the wrong end of that unnatural blaze. For this is no normal fire. It is massive. A wall of flame that sweeps a path through the valley, moving with incalculable speed, devouring everything in its wake. Fueled by the whipping wind. Pulled by it, feeding on it, chasing it…
Straight toward me, I realize, thunderstruck.
If I were at the ridge, if I were where I was supposed to be, I’d be far from its reach. Safe and secure, high above its fiery clutches. Instead, I find myself standing directly in its path.
“Go!” I spur Onyx faster, turning my back on the blaze. “Come on, boy!”
The fire surges down the valley, razing through the copse of pines, pursuing us through the foliage with greedy, grasping hands. So swift, so bright, it seems the infernal fires of the underworld have been loosed upon the land.
I hear the cries of panic from the Reavers who’ve followed me down the slope as the smoke and flame overtake them. I hear them call out for aid, hear their agony ring into the skies. And then I hear nothing at all. Nothing but the bellowing roar of fire, the answering wail of wind.
No matter how fast I ride, the inferno is faster. The smell of fumes thickens the air until my eyes water and my throat is hoarse. The smoke is choking me, pressing inward in a noxious cloud I can barely see through. I cough and gasp for air, blinking away tears as I clutch the reins.
With a distressed whinny, Onyx slows, struggling to maintain his pace in the gathering darkness. I urge him forward, feeling death circle close, but we make it only a few more strides before his back legs lock and he rears up, front hooves punching the air. I’m nearly tossed from the saddle. My fingernails score the pommel in my effort to keep my seat.
“Whoa, boy,” I croak, voice an ashen rasp. My shaking hand strokes his neck. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too.”
He snorts his displeasure, head tossing. He will go no farther.
My body is tight as a bowstring. If we do not put distance between ourselves and the flame…if we do not find a way forward…
But how?
I am out of options. Out of time. Out of hope.
Unless…
Use it, Penn had said.
Could it be so simple?
The Remnant at my chest is silent. Deathly still. As if it is waiting to see what I will do. Waiting to see if, after all this time, I will finally reach deep inside and test what awaits me there.
Weaver of wind…Something stirs in my bones. A whisper. An answer.Summoner of skies…
To call upon the air itself—I must be mad. Utterly mad, even to consider it. The wind has always seemed a wild thing. Alive, intangible. A force that cannot be tamed or controlled. But as I choke on the deadly smoke, I do not have the luxury of weighing pros and cons. There is no opportunity to debate.
Only to act.
To trust that Penn is not mistaken about me or my abilities.
In desperation, I close my eyes and seek out that strange pulse of energy I felt when I pierced through Jac’s glamour for the first time. The surge I felt on that cliff side with Burrows’s men. On the bridge as I dangled, close to death. On the night I fled the scorched earth of Seahaven. And, if I’m honest with myself, a dozen other times before that day. Times I’d pushed away, brushed aside, clinging to the safety of being…
Nothing.
No one.
Nameless orphan.
Powerless halfling.
Worthless point.
Cold prickles at my chest, an icy kiss.
Wind weaver…A whisper within.No more hiding…
I grasp ahold of that voice like a loose thread, winding it round my finger and pulling, pulling, pulling until a spool unravels deep inside me. Somewhere out of sight. In my marrow. In the fabric of my being. In the stitching of my very soul. Somewhere so far down it will never be detected, even if they hack me apart with blades and peer into my bleeding chest cavity.