I land in the middle of a field with a thud, the sun above me blindingly white. As I sit up, I’m almost certain I’m about to vomit, but the bile doesn’t make it past my chest. I peek over the long strands of grass. It’s then I realize . . . I’ve been here before. From a distance, I can see a small child—a young boy—running around with a toy, just like last time. Something catches his attention, and he darts off.
The boy vanishes from my sight as he enters a small cottage. Recalling my steps from before, I spot an open window on the side and, as discreetly as I can, run over to it. I rise just high enough to see over the ledge, and spot the young boy sitting on the floor, moving his dragon figurine along a handwoven rug. I hadn’t known who he was before, but this time, the recognition is immediate.
The russet hair.
The striking emerald eyes.
It's my brother . . . as a child.
Which would mean that the woman to his left, with her back facing me . . . is his mother. My mother.
Our mother.
My assumption is further confirmed as she turns to the side, her plump belly bulging. A lump forms in my throat as I realize who she’s carrying. Me.
“Go wash up,” she instructs Haskell.
Without any reservation, he does what she says.
I scan the small cottage, looking for any sign of our father, but it doesn’t seem to exist. No large boots by the door. No overcoat. No photographs or portraits. Nothing.
I get a sinking feeling as I prepare to be whisked back to the present, but the memory keeps playing out. Haskell returns with a smile on his face as our mother prepares a bowl of rice, lamb, and a bread roll for dinner. Just as they’re about to start eating, a knock sounds at the door.
I can sense a shift in the room almost immediately.
“Hide,” she tells Haskell. “Now.”
As he drops his wooden utensils onto the table and rushes into another room, she’s swiftly removing his bowl and toys from sight. I strain my neck as she makes for the door, wondering who it is.
But I don’t make it that far.
Within seconds, I’m pulled away from the image, in another blur of beige and white, and plopped back into reality. Where my mother and the door should have been, I find myself staring at the spring—no cloak hovering above it. But in its place is something much more disturbing: dozens of putrid, rotting fish, their yellow underbellies floating at the surface. The stench is so overwhelming that I frantically snatch the drenched linen beside me and the half-full canteen from the ground. I try not to gag as I dump the water out, then race back toward the fort.
Fear grips me so tightly that I can’t even begin to process what I’ve just seen. Part of me hopes that Haskell is awake, but a larger part hopes he’s still in his unconscious state. I just need a little more time to think about this—to figure it all out—but when I arrive back at camp, it’s apparent that time is not on my side.
RYDAN HELSTROM
AVERY HAD GIVEN his word that he’d stay a couple more days in Lonia. Rydan hadn’t been able to tell if his reasoning had been for the many people he’d dropped off earlier that week, or for something else; but learning that Avery was also an Ignitor had given him a sense of hope. If they spent enough time together, perhaps he’d be willing to teach Rydan a thing or two about his newfound ability.
Sneaking out of the house every morning has only gotten easier—that is, until today, when he runs straight into Vira in the kitchen. She turns to face him, intrigue lining her eyes. “You’re up early.”
“I just woke up not too long ago. How did you sleep?”
She looks him up and down. “You’re already dressed. Going somewhere?”
“I was going to go into town.” He hesitates, hoping she won’t see through his lie. “We were running low on”—he scans the countertop—“apples. And bread.”
She stifles a yawn, then finishes drying a bowl and turns to place it in an overhead cupboard. “While you’re out, do you mind grabbing some more tea?”
He’d been so focused on the inevitable interrogation his lie would bring about that he almost blows his façade entirely. “Tea. Sure. What kind?”
“Lemongrass and mint, please.”
He makes a mental note. “Will do. I’ll be back soon.”
She glances back and gives him a lazy smile.
With a small wave goodbye, he’s out the door. As he’s about to turn off to head to the private beach, he thinks better of it and decides to do as he’s promised and go into town first. He digs in his pockets for some riyals, pulling out three, hoping that it’ll be enough to get Vira’s tea.
Not surprisingly, the town is bustling with activity. He scans the crowd of people, being jostled and bumped every which way, before locating an herbs and spices stand. As he approaches, he senses that someone is watching him. He stops in the middle of the crowd, looking left and right, hoping that his erratic behavior won’t be noticed, but everyone seems to be going about their business. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, so he advances toward the merchant’s cart with a charming smile plastered on his face.
After some slick negotiating, he exchanges the riyals—the exact amount he has on him—for one small jar of lemongrass and mint tea, tucks it into his knapsack, and carries onward. Even through the forest trees, the rays of sunshine beat down on him so that by the time he reaches the beach, all he wants to do is run directly into the ocean. But first, as he always does, he checks the perimeter to ensure that no one is around.
The moment his feet hit the sand, he flings his knapsack off, fumbling to remove his boots. His trousers and shirt follow soon after, leaving him in nothing more than his undergarments. Without a second thought, he darts into the ocean, diving underneath the crashing waves. He swims out a little ways, the crisp water a respite from his burning skin.
Only when he looks at the ship does he notice Avery at the stern motioning him inward—and just as he was starting to enjoy himself. Rydan sighs before ducking under again, then takes his time swimming back to shore.
“I was starting to think you weren’t coming,” Avery says as he throws a rope ladder over the side of the ship.
Rydan rakes a hand through his tangled hair. “Had to stop into town first.” He gathers his clothes and tosses them up to Avery, then swings his knapsack over his shoulder and begins to climb. This time, he doesn’t tumble onto the deck, but gracefully throws his legs over the side and lands on his feet.
“Still no Vira?”
Avery had asked about her every day since they’d started meeting regularly. As much as Rydan wants to include her, he also wants to learn more about their shared Ignitor abilities, as well as what Avery’s gotten himself into with the dozen illusié he’d brought here on this very ship. “Not today, I’m afraid. I was actually hoping we could talk more about illusié.”
Avery takes a seat. “Did you have something specific in mind?”
Rydan leans up against the railing, considering which topic he should bring up first—igniting or the other illusié. He goes with the former. “I was hoping I could learn more about igniting. It comes so easily to you.”