Chapter 1
Permanent Storage
Fin was horizontal—that much he knew. And the earthy, musty smell told him he was probably underground. Possibly in a coffin. But it was too dark, too dusty to get a view of his predicament.
He clawed at the lid above his face until his fingernails came off—all ten of them, which was fine—they’d be numb from the freezing cold soon. When they regrew, he clawed at the lid again. It felt like wood, and if it was, and if he kept scraping, it might give way…after a few years…
He gnashed his teeth and let out a screech, as he scratched and punched and flailed at the lid. But it was no use. It didn’t give. He dropped his arms and sobbed.
“Hailey,” he moaned. Hailey…
She’d be saying, “Your first poem was much better.” And he’d answer, “Well, I had more time to write it.” He actually smiled at the thought of her melodic voice, her feistiness.
And that memory gave impetus to his escape.
Recalling her sly expression at taunting him with that word, he let out a giggle—then stopped.
His breath was shallow, his thoughts jumbled. The air was getting thin.
Hypoxia.
He squeezed his eyes shut, panting still. Soon the real torture would begin—suffocation. Then he’d wake, cough, gag, choke and suffocate again.
Over and over and over…
Think!
He had to tell Hailey…had to tell her the truth before she…before the Envoy… She never killed an Envoy.
She couldn’t defend herself. And if Asher swapped her energy, there was no telling how she’d come back.
“Asher…” he gasped.
The Envoy didn’t answer.
The Envoy…the Envoy…the Env—
He had to hurry…had to hurry while he still had breath.
Frantic, Fin wiggled his arm down and reached into his pocket, where his bloody fingertips found it—the gift from Theon the Envoy.
In that moment, it was a gift from God.
He turned it over in his hand and turned it again, feeling along the surface until his fingertip sensed a flex in the metal.
Classic Aethereal drift design.
He hesitated but only long enough to close his eyes.
This was going to hurt.