My hands fumble with my flicker as I run, shouts and sparks filling the air. Twenty feet to my left, Riszev throws a bottle. It busts against the base of a tent, honey and alcohol exploding out and burning everything it touches. The air is orange and smoky.

My finger catches the lever, and a flame darts out of my flicker. I press it to the paper wick and chunk the bottle as hard as I can. It sails through the air, landing amid a swarm of dazed Kadranians. Their screams assail my ears as I reach for another bottle.

My hands meet air. Could I really have thrown all five? The past minutes blur.

"I'm out!" I call to Riszev.

She glances over, lit bottle in her hand. A Kadranian charges her, and her arm snaps out, bottle flying. It breaks in his face, and he stumbles back screaming.

"I am too!"

Her sword flashes out. She waves me over and calls to her soldiers. I yank out my dagger as I run toward her.

A soldier intercepts me, sweeping his sword at my side. I jump out of the way, and my foot twists over a stone. Pain lances up my leg. He swipes at me again, and I throw myself to his feet. Strike hard, strike fast. Teeth gritted, I thrust my dagger into his boot. He stumbles back, and I start to push up.

A foot slams into my side as someone trips over me. I tumble, dagger spilling from my grip. Ears ringing, I suck in air. The wet ground presses against the back of my pants. Smoke and sparks obscure the stars.

A face swims above me: a Kadranian boy, half-dressed. Blood spatters the face at least two years younger than mine. Sound rushes back into my ears as he raises his sword. My useless hands rise to block, and the blade plunges.

Silver rushes over me, and I gasp. Its strength sweeps away my terror, as if the magic filled every part of me and there's no room for anything else. With a pop of light, the sword vanishes. Terror strikes the boy's face, and he flees.

I push to my feet, the light flaring from my body like a silver torch. I should be afraid, but I only feel disconnected. Men run around me, flames flicker, and I stand straight and still among them. The tips of my hair float around my head.

Sound fades, and something inside me clicks into place. It's like the double-image of a magnicrystal coming into focus, and for the first time, I feel like I truly see. Everything in the universe is mutable. Nothing belongs here that we don't want. Nothing exists that can't be sucked away, left to drown in the anti-world. Nothing is beyond our reach.

Vihnzeirre's light reveals my dagger on the ground, and we reach out our hand. The blade disappears and reappears in our grasp. We stride forward.

A Kadranian steps in our path, and Vihnzeirre hums in my throat like a steamtrain forcing the throttle. The man swings his blade—silver light pops, and our path is clear. We march through where he used to be.

A group of men press Riszev and her soldiers. A blade slashes across her arm, and Vihnzeirre flares on my skin. She growls, and we stretch out our hand. They don't belong here.

Silver takes one man, two. The light envelops another man, and he takes a desperate swing at Riszev. She moves to block it, but her sword meets air. Vihnzeirre takes another, and another. Before her light reaches the last, he bolts. Silver engulfs him anyway, and his scream disappears with him.

Riszev turns and spots us, jaw dropping. I move forward, a dreamer in control of her nightmare, and she calls to her soldiers. They form around me, and we march forward.

A question rises in me, no words, just feeling, and somehow I know what Vihnzeirre means.

Yes, him. He's one of the invaders.

Yes, him. He's steeped in Morineause blood.

Yes, him. He doesn't belong, shouldn't be here, can't exist in this place.

Vihnzeirre hums contentedly, lining men in silver before delivering them to the aether. Numbers blur as people disappear before us.

To the side, a young Morineause soldier stumbles toward a fallen Kadranian. Ragged cuts cover the boy, and blood pours into his wild eyes. Despite the Kadranian's hand raised for mercy, the boy raises his sword to deal a fatal blow. Anger surges through us, and we sweep forward. No more blood, no more! Our light reaches for the boy's form, but I pull back, horrified.

This is one of our soldiers.

The sword falls, and its victim slumps.

Clarity seeps in like water through a cracked glass, and my mind separates from the will of the magic like film peeling away from adhesive. Vihnzeirre's silver drains out of me. My knees buckle, and Riszev catches me, pulling my arm over her shoulder. One of the Retrans points at me, yelling in their language, but Riszev shouts back, and the soldier falls back into formation. You're supposed to leave me here. Instead, she calls to her women, and we change course. The contrast dominates my fuzzied mind.

"Riszev." Black edges my vision as she drags me along.

"We're almost to the castle. Hold on."

We dodge through the disarrayed Kadranians. The world is fire and shadows and fury.

"Riszev."

She stumbles but lifts me back up. My ribs ache, and my foot jolts, and my head is filled with rocks. She struggles to keep up with her soldiers.

"Riszev."

"Skaza, Leavi, I'm not leaving you!"

The castle wall is still impossibly far away. Morineause flow past us, and Kadranians rush up to meet them. We stumble through the chaos, Retran swords before us catching stray blows.

"You have to make it back hom—"

"I will!" she growls and hoists me up higher. "We both—"

Our feet hit a warm mass, and we go sprawling. My head spins, everything turning to murky molasses. A foot away, a Kadranian fells a soldier. The blood sprays over my face. Weak hands raise my dagger, and firelight flashes off its side. The giant turns on me, pinning my arm with his boot. "Vihn," I moan.

His sword arcs down, but this time, Vihnzeirre stays deadly silent.

Riszev rams into the man's legs, and they both tumble to the ground. I try to rise, but my arms give out. Riszev scrambles up, and his desperate swipe misses her by inches. She knocks the blade from his hand. Sword raised, she leans over to dispatch him.

Metal flashes in his hand, and I cry out. Riszev jumps back, but it's too late.

His throwing dagger embeds itself in her stomach.

She whimpers like a dying doe and stumbles back. The Kadranian heaves himself to his feet as she falls.

"No!" I scream.

Her body quivers, clinging to life as her blood pools onto soaked soil.

He lumbers toward her, then howls, clutching his head as he crumples to the ground. A Retran soldier steps forward and finishes him. Shava's robes sweep past me, casting hand falling, and she drops by Riszev's side. She cradles the girl's head. No, no, no. Tears stream down my face. I start to crawl toward them, but Shava gestures at the soldiers, and they lift Riszev. Her hand falls limp, but they dance through the chaos, carrying away all that's left of my friend.

A Morieneause boot falls near my hand, and I flinch away. They're going to trample me. Blackness is closing in, and exhaustion shakes my muscles. I drag myself to the side, fingers digging into the snowy grass. My gaze fixes on a lone tree, dusted by snow and moonlight. I pull forward, waiting for someone to trip over me, a blade to fall, my arms to give out. One hand after another, fingers freezing, I inch forward. Blood and salt stick to my face. A soldier runs past me, and I freeze.

My aching arms don't want to move again, but I fist another clump of ground. In my mind, the tree is my haven, my home, my father's arms. Black washes over my vision, and I shake my head. Blurry sight returns, and I drag myself forward, and forward, and forward.

Somehow, my numbing fingers scratch against bark. I look up. The tree towers before me, cast a ghoulish orange by the distant fires. Dying men scream, and I lean my hand against the trunk.

As I relax, my dimming eyes catch a man in a black robe fleeing. He drags a blonde girl by her hair as she thrashes weakly. Idyne.

I reach out my hand, but Vihnzeirre sleeps, and my body refuses to go any further.

My head falls among the snow, and everything dissolves into black.