Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
ELLIE
“What appears as weakness may be wisdom wearing different clothes.”
Wisdom of the Wandering Sages
Everything hurts.
I’m on the ground, that much I know. My face is pressed against something so cold it burns my cheek. My head is pounding like someone has taken a hammer to my skull and won’t stop swinging. There is blood on my hands, warm and sticky, but I have no idea how it got there.
Every time I try to focus on something, on anything, the world tilts sideways and threatens to dump me back into unconsciousness.
What happened to me?
There’s a weird taste in my mouth, a combination of copper and bile. I think I must have bitten my tongue at some point. Something is digging into my ribs, but when I try to move, my body refuses to cooperate. My arms feel like they’re made of spaghetti.
Where am I?
Memories come back slowly. Sacha’s hand in mine, our fingers interlaced so tightly I could feel his pulse against my palm.
Nyassa explaining about the ritual and how it needed one hundred percent focus.
Directing every bit of power I had into my bracelet.
Light building between us, starting as a warm glow and growing brighter and hotter, until it felt like staring into the sun.
Then pain. Every atom in my body pulled in different directions while I tried to hold myself together through sheer force of will.
My eyes snap open.
The ritual.
Meridian.
I force myself onto my hands and knees, and try to ignore the crawling sensation under my skin.
It feels like electricity with nowhere to go, looking for any excuse to discharge.
Instead, I attempt to focus on my surroundings, but it’s too dark to see much of anything.
High walls block out most of the sky, leaving only a narrow strip of star-scattered darkness above me.
Have I made it back? Where in Meridian am I? And more importantly …
Where is Sacha?
I need to get on my feet. It takes a couple of attempts to make my legs behave and get myself upright. I have to lean against the wall and close my eyes against the vertigo making my head spin, and fight against the very real threat of throwing up.
But I need to get my bearings and figure out where I am, ideally without passing out again, so I slowly crack open my eyes, and force myself to focus despite the way everything wants to blur and double. It takes a second or two, before everything comes into focus.
I’m in an alley, dark and narrow, the buildings close enough on either side that I can reach out with both hands and touch them with my fingertips.
It’s the kind of space where sound echoes strangely and shadows seem deeper than they should be.
Broken crates are stacked against one wall, and the smell of rotting food mingles with smoke and something else—something unpleasant that makes me want to gag.
There’s no sign of anyone else. Just me, with bleeding palms, a lump on the back of my head, what might be a concussion, and bruised ribs. But I can’t think about that right now. I need to find Sacha and Nyassa.
I reach deep inside searching for the bond between us, and relief courses through me when I find it. It’s there, distant but unmistakably present. That means he’s alive, but where is he?
Is he hurt? Is he as disoriented as I am?
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know where he is. I have no idea if Nyassa is here or if she remained stuck on Earth.
As my thoughts spiral, silver light flickers across my skin, my power responding to my confusion and growing fear. Static electricity builds in the air around me, sparks surge outward in crackling arcs that dance between my fingers.
Oh no.
Storm clouds gather above my head with unnatural speed, heaving with the promise of lightning and rain. Thunder rumbles, echoing off the narrow alley walls.
This is bad. This is very bad.
I’m affecting the weather just by being scared, confused, and overwhelmed. The power that Sacha helped me learn to control is slipping out, responding to the emotions I can’t suppress.
Focus. Remember what he taught you.
I force my breathing to slow, reaching desperately for the techniques he showed me, and combine it with the breathing exercises Telren taught.
Count to four. Hold for four. Release for eight.
Don’t fight it. Don’t try to suppress it. Accept it. Acknowledge it. Let it flow instead of forcing it to remain still.
Slowly … reluctantly … the lightning retreats and the storm overhead starts to settle. The clouds don’t disappear, but they do stop churning. The wind dies down to a more natural breeze, and the sharp smell of electricity in the air fades to levels that won’t make nearby objects spark.
It’s progress. Small, fragile progress, but enough for the moment.
I sag back against the wall, heart still racing uncomfortably fast, and that’s when I hear it. Footsteps echoing from somewhere beyond the mouth of the alley. They’re not the quick, light steps of someone walking, but heavier, harder, and follow a rhythm that can only mean one thing.
Trouble.
I can’t tell how many people there are, but that doesn’t matter. If they see me, it means discovery, questions I can’t answer, and attention I definitely don’t want. My power tries to rise again, but I shove it back down through sheer willpower, and hold my breath.
The footsteps come closer. I catch the glint of armor, a flash of red, and press myself closer against the wall.
For a moment the dream I had when I first returned to Chicago fills my mind.
Of hiding in an alley, and waiting for Authority soldiers to find me.
With my heart in my throat, I will myself to blend in with the shadows and hold my breath, while I count each Authority soldier as they pass.
One … two …
Please don’t look this way.
Three … four …
Please don’t see me.
Five … six …
They march past the alley without slowing. I don’t breathe until the sound fades into the distance.
They didn’t see me. They didn’t investigate the alley. They didn’t notice anything unusual.
I let out a long, shuddering breath. I need to move, get out of this alley, and figure out where I am before my luck runs out.
But when I try to step into the center of the alley my legs shake so badly I have to use a hand against the wall to stop me from stumbling.
My eyes catch on my sleeve, and my heart does a backflip in my chest.
Oh no.
I’m wearing Earth clothes. A pale purple sweater, blue jeans with a tear in one knee that wasn’t there when I put them on, and white sneakers.
Nausea rises in my throat. Nothing I’m wearing could ever be mistaken for clothes from Meridian, and anyone who sees me will immediately wonder where I’m from.
I might as well carry a sign around announcing I’m not from here.
I need to change clothes … fast. Where am I going to find some in the middle of the night? It’s not like there are any stores open, and I don’t have money to buy anything even if there were. But the thought of money still makes me pat my pockets, even though I know what I’ll find.
Nothing.
And knowing that there are Authority soldiers here, means I need to keep out of their sight, otherwise they’ll ask for identification papers I also don’t have, but I can’t stay here.
Standing still means getting caught eventually, when the sun rises and people start moving around.
I need to move. I need to find clothes. And I need to find somewhere safe to wait out the rest of the night.
The first thing that strikes me when I step out of the questionable safety of the alley is that I’m no longer at Thornspire Keep. And if that’s the case, then the first thing I need to do is figure out where I am.
Walking along the empty streets is like moving through a nightmare where every shadow could hide someone waiting to grab me.
Every corner could lead to more danger. Every sound could be the approaching footsteps of more Authority soldiers.
My heart is pounding so hard, I’m sure anyone within fifty feet could hear it.
I keep to the shadows as much as I can, fighting down power surges while terror overwhelms what little training I have. Every spike of adrenaline wants to trigger the lightning, wants to call down storms, and it seems determined to announce my presence to every Authority soldier around.
A door slams somewhere in the distance, and I nearly jump out of my skin, silver light cracking down my arms before I can stop it. The sound echoes off the narrow streets in a way that makes it impossible to tell which direction it came from or how far away it is.
Every time I hear footsteps, I freeze and press myself against the nearest building, while I hold my breath. If someone is coming, if they’re looking for something or someone suspicious, maybe staying absolutely still will be enough to avoid notice.
Every sound makes me want to run. The creak of a shutter in the breeze, the whisper of the wind. Animals that sound like cats screeching. Shapes darting overhead that might be bats.
I’m barely holding it together, operating on nothing but adrenaline and the desperate need to stay hidden, to stay safe, and to find Sacha, when I finally find what I’m looking for.
Clothes hanging outside a ground-floor window about twenty feet away.
I check up and down the street, then dart across it.
My hands shake as I reach for them, waiting for someone to see me and raise an alarm.
What if the owner wakes up? What if there’s someone watching me from a window I can’t see? What if another Authority patrol comes around the corner?
But I need these clothes more than I need to worry about the risks of taking them. Without them, I’m completely vulnerable. With them, at least I have a chance of blending in long enough to figure out what I should do next.