JADE
My tongue feels like sandpaper, my lips are cracked and bleeding, and the accelerated healing that’s one of the perks of being star touched doesn’t do shit when you’re dying of thirst.
To make things worse, the clouds have cleared, and the sun is beating down on the deck like it has a personal vendetta against us.
“Half a cup each,” Kieran says. “That’s what we have left.”
Evie looks up from the navigation charts, her bun messier than normal. “According to Circe’s directions, we should have reached the Pillars by now. We probably have one more day of sailing, at most.”
Callie shakes the compass, as if that’ll fix it, which she’s been doing a lot of today. “Your calculations assumed we’d be able to navigate,” she points out. “It’s a little hard to do that when the compass spins like a top and the stars keep changing their minds about where they want to exist.”
Nobody argues, because nobody can.
Kieran moves around the deck, distributing our pathetic rations. Half a cup of water to Evie, half a cup to Callie, and half a cup to me.
It’s barely enough to coat my tongue.
He holds out the last portion to Logan, who’s leaning against the railing.
The hollows under his cheekbones are so sharp that he looks like a sketch of the Logan I know, drawn by someone who only half-remembered the details.
And his eyes, always so fierce, are unfocused and distant in a way that makes it hard to breathe.
How often has he been jumping?
Clearly a lot, although it doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere. Because we’re still out in this stupid sea, being burned by the stupid sun, running out of food and water.
“Give mine to the others,” he says, his voice strained.
“No.” The word rips out of me. “You look like death.”
“I’m fine.”
He’s so obviously not fine that I want to scream. I would scream, if I had the energy.
Evie sets down the charts again, concern cutting through her exhaustion. “You’re not fine,” she states the obvious. “You need water, just like the rest of us.”
Kieran steps closer, extending the cup further. “Take it.”
“I said I’m fine.” Logan has that look in his eyes that says he’s already decided, and nothing will change his mind.
But no. I’m not okay with this. Not one bit.
“You want to be a self-sacrificing idiot?” I shove myself away from what’s left of the forward mast and move to the center of the deck, pushing through the dizziness that’s rushing through my head. “Fine. But I’m not going to sit here and watch everyone die while the sun tries to murder us.”
“Then what, exactly, are you going to do?” he asks.
“I’m going to use my storm magic.” I plant my feet on the deck, staring up at the endless mocking blue. “Because storms have rain, and we need water.”
Evie pushes up to her feet. “You can’t summon a storm from nothing,” she says, her scrunched brow making it clear that her analytical brain is already racing.
“The atmospheric manipulation required—the pressure systems, the moisture content—you’d need to affect weather patterns on a massive scale.
That’s fundamentally different than calling lightning from an already cloudy sky. ”
“I know it’s different.” I meet her eyes, and the concern there makes my chest ache. “But T didn’t give me a manual. Everything I know about my magic, I’ve figured out by accident or through training with Logan. Maybe this will just be a bigger accident.”
“Or maybe you’ll kill yourself trying.” She moves closer, her expression fierce. “You’re exhausted. We all are. If you push too hard—”
“If I don’t push, we die anyway.” I gesture at the empty water barrel, at the blazing sun, and at the ocean stretching in every direction. “At least this way, we’ll have a chance.”
Logan’s jaw works like he’s fighting himself, and when he finally nods, it’s reluctant.
“Be careful,” he tells me. “And if it starts going wrong, you stop.”
“I promise.”
The lie tastes like ash.
From the way he nods, I can tell he doesn’t fully believe me.
But what he thinks right now doesn’t matter.
What matters is that I do everything I can to create a storm that will save us all.
So, I close my eyes and reach for the place inside myself where the lightning lives, picturing T in my mind— wild dark hair that never stayed still, storm-gray eyes that could turn electric blue mid-sentence, and that mischievous grin she’d flash over her shoulder before takeoff, like she knew the sky was hers and she was just letting the rest of us borrow it.
Okay, T. Tempest. Whatever you want to be called. Circe said you’d come to me when you decided the time was right. Well, your chosen champion is about to die of thirst in the middle of a magical ocean that wants to keep me here for all eternity, so if there’s ever a time to help, it’s now.
Nothing.
Of course there’s nothing. T’s been silent since she star touched me and dropped me off at the Hydra trial.
She’s not going to rescue us. I’ve been on my own since she touched my forehead and walked away. The only difference between then and now is that back then I couldn’t control it, and I didn’t know enough to be angry about it.
I’m not the same person I was all those weeks ago. That girl waited for permission, waited for answers, and waited for someone to tell her what she was. This version of me has killed hellhounds, survived a six-headed sea monster, and watched people she cared about die while trying to save them.
If T won’t send rain, I’ll make my own.
So, I take a shaky breath, picture the glass sphere in my chest, and shatter it.
The electricity answers immediately, flooding my veins with silver light. Wind stirs across the deck, warm and restless, ruffling the sails for the first time in hours. The pressure changes against my eardrums the way it does before a real storm.
I grab onto that shift in pressure and pull, dragging my magic upward like I’m physically hauling the clouds into existence. My arms lift, my fingers spread, and lightning crackles between them as I shove every ounce of power I have at the empty sky.
The sun keeps beating down, and the clouds don’t come.
But I won’t accept defeat. So, I dig deeper, pulling electricity from my bones, my blood, and every cell that’s ever sparked. I picture storm clouds forming, rain falling, and the sky cracking open the way it did when I killed the hellhounds on the hillside.
Come on. Come on.
“Jade,” Logan says from somewhere nearby, tight with worry. “Stop.”
“I can do this,” I say through gritted teeth. “Just give me a minute.”
I keep trying until my arms are shaking and my vision’s spotting at the edges, but the sky remains stubbornly, mockingly blue.
“That’s enough.” Logan’s suddenly in front of me, blocking my view of the sky.
I snarl at him. “I told you to give me a minute.”
“I gave you five of them.” His hands close around my wrists, his fingers flinching at the contact.
But instead of letting go, his grip tightens, and he forces me to lower my arms with strength that should seriously be illegal given how exhausted he looks.
“Your nose is bleeding. You’re pushing yourself too hard. ”
I taste copper on my lips and ignore it.
“Let go of me.”
“Jade—”
“I said let go.” I try to wrench my arms free, but his hands won’t budge. “I can do this. I just need to figure out—”
“Figure out what? How to kill yourself faster? Because that’s all you’re accomplishing right now.”
“Maybe if you’d stop interrupting me—”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“And I’m trying to keep all of us alive!” The words tear out of me. “What happens in two days when we’re too weak to move? What happens in three days when we die of thirst? Oh wait—I know. We’ll be dead. One hundred, one thousand percent dead.”
“There’s a difference between trying to help and throwing yourself at a wall until you shatter,” he says, his expression vulnerable in a way I rarely see. “We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way,” I say, hating how weak and pathetic I sound. “Tempest made me her champion, which means I should be able to do this, and if I can’t—”
“Then we figure out something else.” He releases me, and I stumble back a step.
Kieran cuts through, calm and final. “He’s right. Save your strength.”
Callie sighs, as if my attempt to save their lives is a mere inconvenience. “Listen to them,” she says. “You need to stop. You look like death.”
Stop.
Everyone wants me to stop. Logan with his desperate pleading, Kieran with his practical assessment, Callie with her mock sympathy, and Evie with her worried eyes.
They all think I’m going to fail.
Everyone always thinks I’ll fail. My parents, disappointed that I couldn’t get into Yale. My ex-boyfriend, who threw me away the second I didn’t fit into his perfect future. My friends, who vanished when I became inconvenient.
You’re exactly as worthless as everyone who left you believed.
The thought surfaces, sharp and bitter, and the last thread of restraint snaps.
“None of you get to tell me what I can and can’t do.
” The words come out low and dangerous. “You want to know what I’m feeling?
What emotion is driving my magic right now?
” I laugh, and it sounds unhinged, even to my own ears.
“I’m angry. I’m angry that we’re stuck out here dying.
I’m angry that T chose me and abandoned me.
I’m angry that everyone I’ve ever trusted has either left me or lied to me or told me I wasn’t good enough. ”
Silver electricity crackles between my fingers.
“And I am so tired of being the girl who fails.”
I turn back to the sky, and when I reach for my power, I don’t push it out.
I reach up.
Not with my magic, but with my rage, my fear, and my desperate, bone-deep refusal to die in the middle of nowhere while everyone tells me they told me so.
I’m the champion of a goddess who commands hurricanes, thunder, and the fury of the sky. And I’m not asking the storm to come.
I’m demanding it.
Electricity floods through me with new purpose, silver and crackling, racing along my nerve endings. Static pops across my skin, and every cell in my body vibrates at a frequency that threatens to tear me apart.
The first rumble of thunder shakes the boat.
The temperature plummets next, the sweat on my skin turning ice-cold in seconds, and the wind kicks up hard enough to whip my hair across my face and tear at my clothes.
Electricity sings in my veins, louder than it’s ever been, matching the rhythm of the storm building above me like it’s part of my heartbeat.
Yes. This. More.
Silver lightning crackles through the clouds, and it’s mine. Every bolt, every flash, and every deafening crack is mine.
“You did it,” Logan says, sounding muffled and far away. “You can stop now.”
But the power’s rushing through me in a torrent, pulling energy from my body, feeding it into the storm that’s growing, building, and hungry for more.
Every gust of wind is my breath. Every crack of thunder is my heartbeat.
Every flash of silver is the electricity that’s been trapped under my skin since T touched my forehead and infused me with her magic.
“Jade!”
Hands grab my shoulders and shake me.
Logan.
When I force my eyes open, he’s staring at me with terror so raw it makes my chest ache.
“You stupid, reckless, impossible—”
A drop of water lands on my cheek. Then another.
Then the sky opens up, and rain pours down in sheets. It’s warm and heavy, soaking through my clothes, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Containers!” Evie’s already moving, grabbing every pot, cup, and bucket she can find. “We need to collect as much as we can before it stops.”
Kieran and Callie join her, positioning containers under the heaviest streams of rain.
Logan stays where he is, his thumb tracing my cheekbone, wiping away water or tears or both.
“You’re extraordinary,” he says, and then he leans down, his forehead pressing against mine, and I close my eyes, letting myself exist in this moment. Just for a second. Just for—
The boat lurches to the left.
My eyes snap open as Logan’s arms tighten around me, keeping me from sliding across the deck.
The rain’s driving harder now, coming down in blinding sheets. Wind howls across the deck, tearing at the remaining sails, sending loose ropes whipping through the air. Towering waves slam against the hull hard enough that the whole boat shudders.
Callie’s clinging to the back mast, her feet sliding on the rain-slicked deck. “What the hell did you do?” she screams at me, sharp with panic.
Evie grabs the railing as another wave hits. “She called a storm, not just rain! Storms have wind, and waves, and—”
Lightning cracks overhead, so close and bright that it leaves afterimages dancing across my vision.
Kieran’s at the helm fighting with the wheel, but the boat spins anyway, and my stomach drops as we’re swept sideways into a wave that’s trying to swallow us whole.
I reach for my magic, but I gave everything I had to calling the storm, and now I’m empty. A battery that’s been drained.
“Get below deck!” Logan screams, cutting through the chaos.
Another wave slams into us, and the boat tips so far to the side that I’m certain we’re going to capsize, just like I did all those years ago when I was trying to sail a dinghy at summer camp.
Logan’s grip on me tightens until it hurts, and I squeeze my eyes shut, because I can’t do anything except hold on and pray to whatever gods might be listening that our boat isn’t going to sink because I summoned a storm I can’t control.
The wind screams so loud I can’t hear my own thoughts.
The waves keep slamming into the hull, and lightning splits the sky in silver flashes that turn the world into a strobe light of chaos and terror.
The rain is hitting my face so hard it feels like needles, and the only thing keeping me on this ship is Logan’s arms crushing me against his chest.
The last thing I register before everything goes dark is his heartbeat against my cheek, steady even when the world is being torn apart.