Chapter 2

2

K yrie

My shoulder throbs in time with the pounding of my ax as I painstakingly cut into the hard salt.

I look up, noting that the sun is only halfway up in the sky. Sweat drips from my body. I lick my parched lips. I’m already exhausted, with almost an entire day ahead of me. I can’t afford to rest, or I won’t make my quota…again. I can’t do that to Taylor twice in a row.

I start hammering at the hard earth, chipping away. I have yet to dig out a single block of salt. I need to work faster. I have to.

My hands ache as I push through the pain, determined to do what it takes. I won’t take food out of Taylor’s mouth again.

I watch him bring his pickax down, slicing through the crust. His muscles bulge. He has barely broken a sweat. I’m in awe of his stamina and strength.

“You’d better get a move on, girly,” Hali says, leering at me before looking into my empty basket. “Or it’s gruel for you this eve.”

I ignore him and start up the pounding again, pulling my buff more firmly around my mouth as the air around me dances with dust and salt.

As the day wears on, the repetition of swinging the ax begins to take its toll on my body. Every muscle screams in protest, but I ignore the pain. I can’t afford to slow down now.

One of the fae bangs on the gong to signal that we can take a few minutes to drink some water. My mouth is drier than the desert sand beneath my feet. I’m breathing hard as I drop my ax.

We start toward the barrel when Zara makes a sound of disbelief, pointing to the east.

“What is it?” someone shouts.

There are gasps and yells from the group as everyone looks in the direction she is pointing. My mouth drops open as I do the same.

“Look!” she shouts.

I glance over at Taylor, who narrows his eyes.

“What is it?” I mouth.

He doesn’t answer, a frown forming on his brow as he makes his way to me.

To the east, storm clouds are gathering. Storm clouds in the desert. It’s happening fast. The wind picks up, whipping my hair about my face as my tie comes loose. Our fae overseers start shouting orders, trying to herd us toward the safety of the buildings.

“Sandstorm,” one shouts.

This doesn’t look like any sandstorm I’ve ever seen. At this point, every one of the miners is just standing there instead of scrambling to gather our tools and belongings.

A storm in the desert. Kakara, help us. It is a bad omen; I can feel it. This particular desert hasn’t seen rain in many sun-cycles. This isn’t normal. It smacks of magic. There is no other answer.

Taylor grabs my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. I can feel the tension in his body; his eyes scan the horizon for any sign of what might be coming our way. The first distant rumble of thunder sends a shiver down my spine.

It definitely isn’t a sandstorm.

Plumes of white start to form as we breathe in and out. Gooseflesh rises all over my body as the wind turns icy.

I look up at Taylor, whose jaw is tight. “This isn’t rain.” He shakes his head. His brown hair brushes his shoulders.

“What is it, then?” I ask, a hint of panic in my voice.

He sniffs the air. “Snow.”

What?

Can’t be!

I choke out a nervous-sounding laugh. “That’s crazy, Taylor. It doesn’t snow in the desert. It’s impossible.” And yet, I know he’s right, as more white plumes from my mouth as I exhale. The temperature is dropping by the second. I hug myself, wishing I had a coat.

By now, everything and everyone is silent. The only sound is the howling of the wind and the cracking of thunder. Even the fae have stopped what they are doing to watch the growing storm approach.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying.

The sky is blanketed in swirling clouds of white; snowflakes dance in the air as they fall in the distance. The storm grows nearer and nearer until the clouds are directly above us.

My mouth falls open. I lift my head, my eyes wide.

I laugh as the sky fills with fluffy flakes of white, gently floating down toward us. Each one is unique, some small and delicate, others larger and more intricate.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s magic,” Taylor says. “Why? What purpose does this serve?” he mutters to himself.

“We should get under cover,” one of the fae guards shouts.

No one moves. We all seem to be holding our breath as the snow drifts down. One more flash of lightning streaks across the sky, and then calm descends. The wind is no longer as fierce.

The air has a faint smell of cold, like the first breath of winter. I close my eyes as the first snowflake hits my face. It’s cold and refreshing. I groan. It’s been so long since I felt anything other than sand, dust, and oppressive heat.

I look up at Taylor as a single flake drifts down to him, landing on his cheek, where it melts in an instant. Taylor’s eyes squeeze tightly shut. At first, I think it is in elation, but instead, he falls to the ground as if struck. His face is twisted in agony.

“Taylor!” I yell, falling to my knees beside him.

All around us, fae and humans alike are dancing in the snow that is falling faster and faster, turning the baked earth white.

Taylor’s back bows, his muscles pulling tight. His face turns red. It’s as if the snow is hurting him. How can that be?

The rest of us are fine. It isn’t the snow. It can’t be. I don’t understand what is going on.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, panic etched in every word. “What can I do to help you?”

Taylor’s eyes lock with mine for a moment as he screams and writhes.

Then he tears at his clothes. “Fire. On fire!” he yells.

“You’re not on fire. You’re fine. It’s snow, only snow.”

I try to hold him still by placing my hands on his chest, but he rips free, curling in on himself.

Damon

Fire!

I’m on fire!

Snow is falling. It’s cold to the touch, and yet, I’m burning up. My skin is aflame. Pain courses through me. It feels like I’m burning up from the inside out. My brain. My skin. My very bones are on fire.

Help me!

I gasp as my back bows from the sheer agony coursing through me. My eyes are wide in my skull. I can’t shut them. The fiery pain is most evident across my back. It scorches into me. My clothes feel too tight. Like the fabric is melting into me. I try to tear them from me, but my hands won’t work properly.

I scream.

It is excruciating. I make a guttural noise from deep in my throat as I fold in on myself, trying desperately to make it stop.

It’s hell! I’m burning…burning…burning. I can barely breathe.

“You’re not on fire. You’re fine. It’s snow, only snow,” Kyrie tells me; her eyes are filled with panic as she tries to console me. To hold me still.

All of my muscles tighten against my will. There is more pain. So much pain. I can’t take much more. My head is pounding. Fire shoots through my veins. I scream again, but this time, I don’t make a sound. As quickly as the pain hits, it subsides. I roll onto my back, breathing hard. I feel sweat drip down my brow despite the snow falling onto me, covering me.

There is a loud ringing in my ears that turns into a maddening thumping. It is my own heart pounding loudly. Something runs through my veins. Something more than blood. It’s like a humming beat that snakes its way through me, warming me. I know what it is…I know.

Magic. It’s magic.

My magic.

Foreign and yet familiar all at once. I look at my hands, holding them up, feeling the power at my fingertips. My hands feel different. Everything feels different.

It all comes back to me with a clarity that boggles my mind.

What sorcery is this?

How?

Why?

Kyrie’s look of concern has morphed into horror. “Taylor? What is going on?” Her eyes dart about my face. They go to my ears. “Why are…what?” She shakes her head. “No! No, it can’t be.” Her eyes have filled with tears. She covers her mouth with her hand.

I jump to my feet.

“What happened to your hair?” Zara asks me. “Are those…?” She frowns. “What happened to you? Taylor?” Her eyes narrow with distrust.

“We need to escape,” I tell both Zara and Kyrie. “We need to go now.” My best friend steps back, but I grab her hand. “Right now,” I tell her.

Kyrie shakes her head. “No. God’s bones! What in Kakara’s name is going on? I can’t leave with you. What happened to you?” She shakes her head again, her mouth wide with shock. Her eyes fill with more of the same.

“It’s still me,” I try to reassure her, but I can tell that it isn’t working.

“You’re one of them.” Her lip trembles. “You’re…you…”

“I’m not. We need to go.” I look over at Zara. “Run,” I tell her under my breath.

She stares at me for a few moments and then does as I say.

It’s snowing heavily, but it won’t last much longer. The storm is moving on. Within minutes, the sun will come out, and our chance will be gone.

“Come.” I drag Kyrie behind me, headed for the three camels that didn’t make the trip earlier. They’re fully tacked, including supplies to make the long journey. The salt take was less than anticipated. These beasts weren’t needed after all. It’s an opportunity we have to take.

“He looks like a fae,” someone shouts.

“Like one of them,” another one says.

“Taylor?” I recognize Lona’s voice; it’s filled with shock. “What—?” I don’t hear what she has to say because I hoist Kyrie into my arms, and I run.

“Let me go.” Kyrie fights against me, trying to get me to put her down.

I don’t. “It’s me,” I try hard to reassure her. “It’s still me. You have to trust me, please.”

“No, it isn’t you. It… You have pointy ears. Your eyes. Taylor, you’re a fae. You’re one of them. No!” She tries to break free, pounding my chest with her fist. Tears stream down her face.

“I’m taking a camel, and I’m leaving. We don’t have long before the storm clears and, with it, the confusion. It’s our chance to escape, Ky.”

I look up, noting that the snow isn’t falling as fast anymore. Our time is running out. The camels are just ahead. Heavy water skins hang from their saddles, along with leather bags of dried food and other supplies.

I put Kyrie down and drag her the last of the way.

“I’ll help you up.”

She shakes her head.

“Yes. Kyrie, you need to snap out of it. You will die if you stay.”

“Leave me alone!” she yells.

In one easy motion, I mount one of the camels, looking down at Kyrie. I stretch out my hand toward her. “Please come with me,” I urge. “It’s now or never.”

In front of us, Tom and Lona mount a camel. Tom spurs the animal into motion. Several people start fighting over the third beast. Cyrano kicks a man, knocking down a second, and then mounts the last camel. Several prisoners start toward us.

“Now!” I shout at her, still holding out my hand.

Kyrie nods once, clasping my hand, so I pull her up behind me, digging my heels into the camel, which bellows. The beast takes off in a slow lope while chaos erupts behind us.

“They’re escaping!” a guard shouts.

“Stop them!” another yells in a deep voice. “Hey, you! Stop!” he shouts. “You’ll die out there.”

I spur the camel on, hearing screams and shouts behind us. I don’t look back.

Ignoring the insanity behind us, I kick the camel on, steering it away from the mine and toward the vast expanse of the desert in the same direction the riders took this morning. The sun is beginning to break through the dissipating snow clouds, casting a golden light over the dunes.

We ride on and on, the camels carrying us swiftly away from the mine and the chaos we left behind. Lona and Tom are on one beast, and up ahead, Cyrano is on the other. I’m guessing he is faster because his beast isn’t weighed down by two people. He slowly edges away from us as the time ticks by.

The warmth of the sun on my skin is a stark contrast to the icy snow from just moments before. Kyrie’s grip around my waist tightens as she leans forward. I can feel her heart racing, matching the beat of the camel’s hooves on the sand.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“No,” she says so softly that I can hardly hear her.

“It’s going to be fine. I can explain everything.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I can’t think about it now. I still my mind, keeping my thoughts on the trail ahead.

As we journey further into the vast desert, I steal a glance back at the mine. The storm clouds are all but gone, revealing a clear blue sky in their wake. I know that confusion will soon turn into realization for those we left behind. They will understand what I have become. Many of them saw me. My hair, my eyes, my ears. If I’m not careful, my torn shirt might reveal the marking across my back. I can only pray that no one saw it. I pull the torn garment more closely around myself. No one must know who I am. Not just yet.

For now, we are free. The endless expanse of golden dunes stretches out before us, untouched and full of possibility. Full of death, too. We will have to tread carefully if we are to make it out alive.