EVA

IT FELT AS THOUGH they'd been walking for hours.

A drastic change from their strolls through Havenwood, where Emrys filled the void with pleasant conversation, his quiet manner only added to the illusion of slowed-down time. Even the surrounding woods had gone unnaturally silent. The breeze crept to a halt the deeper they went, leaving them with nothing but the rustle of their own footsteps against the grass.

Granted, they weren't going for record time. Emrys struggled to move at a normal pace, still leaning against Eva's shoulder for support and stumbling over the occasional protruding root in their path.

After an eternity of passing tree after tree, his sweaty hand shifted against hers. Though her palms had started scabbing over after her last vision, the perspiration stung when it came into contact with what open wounds remained. It stood as a stark reminder of how powerful—and dangerous—her abilities had become in such a short amount of time.

Emrys shifted beside her once more and let out a soft grunt.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

When he failed to meet her eyes, Eva tilted her head. "For what?"

"I shouldn't have snapped at you. If I'd spent years writing about my dream world and then stepped into it, I'd be a little distracted myself."

Eva's lips parted in surprise, but it took a moment for her tongue to form proper words. "You don't need to apologize."

"I was out of line. I scared you."

"You didn't—"

"Your eyes flash a thousand emotions a second. They give you away every time."

A nervous laugh left her lips. It wasn't that he was wrong. The sudden outburst was out of character for him, especially after five books' worth of a calm demeanor to prove he kept his head in any situation—but, while he had startled her in the moment, the weariness behind his own eyes gave more than enough context to his actions.

His fragility frightened her far more than any harsh tone. Despite his constant reassurance of a "cool down," his weak moments had become far more frequent than she was comfortable with.

Her all-telling eyes must have also given away her concern, because his face returned to a state of faux strength. She cleared her throat and changed the subject, unsure if it was for his benefit or her sanity.

"I feel like I've waited my whole life to see this place," she said, "and of course, it would be nighttime, when I can't actually see it."

"It isn't." Emrys sighed. "It should be high noon right now. I knew the Darkness was bad when I left but... this is worse than I expected."

Eva recalled the web-like constructions overtaking any trace of light. It hadn't been the heavens' nighttime glow peeking through the crevasses after all. It was the lavender afternoon sky, struggling to break through its increasing blight.

Emrys took notice of her downtrodden expression, fixated somewhere farther away than any of the surrounding trees, and nudged her with his elbow. "There's still time. The light may break through before the day ends."

"I can't imagine what it must feel like for you."

Emrys quirked a brow. The expression—though quickly replaced with one of shock as he stumbled over a rock in their path—confused her.

Once sure he was steady on his feet again, she continued. "Seeing Astraela this way can't be easy. This is your home."

"My home?" Emrys practically spat the words. "You mean the home with a bounty hanging over my head for... what? Existing? Befriending the other members of 'Astraela's Most Wanted,' who keep being slaughtered for crimes they didn't commit?" His voice cracked, and he blew out a disheartened breath. "If that's home, it's a sorry excuse for one."

His grip loosened until their fingers almost untangled, but Eva kept her grip firm.

Emrys' resentment had come up numerous times in her books. With the Guild murdering hordes of necromancers, charging them with ties to the Darkness that they didn't have, he had lived his most recent life undercover. While he didn't practice necromancy like Thana, wielding hellfire would be enough to put him beside her on a guillotine—and she imagined that being outed as a one-of-a-kind, eternal being would've only worsened his fate.

It hadn't occurred to her until then just how different life on Earth had been for him. While he had taken on a new form and identity, he didn't have to stay in the shadows. He had the entirety of Havenwood at his fingertips with a job, a social life, and freedom to roam wherever he pleased.

Freedom that had been ripped from his grasp by the same Dark forces he had spent his entire life fighting.

Emrys had perfect reasoning for his resentment, but his watering eyes proved there was a part of him still shaken by their fallen world.

It was Eva's turn to comfort her friend. She brushed her own thumb across the back of his hand in soothing motions until she felt his fingers' squeeze once again. Their eyes met, and mutually bittersweet smiles rose to their lips.

Boisterous laughter echoed in the distance.

They jumped in unison. Eva reached out with her free hand, grabbing Emrys' arm for support when he nearly toppled over from their sudden halt.

While her eyes had begun adjusting to the dark woods, she could barely make out faint light from beyond an approaching cluster of trees. The laughter filtered from its direction, and it wasn't long before a pair of tall silhouettes came into view.

Emrys put a finger to his lips and motioned for them to continue. Nerves twisted Eva's stomach, but she followed him toward the tree cluster. They didn't get far before her companion pulled her behind the nearest oak, flattening his back against its trunk.

"Shit," he muttered. "Why are they here?"

Eva stared at him with widened eyes, too frightened to ask questions. Instead, he nodded for her to peer out from their cover. She poked her head far enough around the side of the tree to inspect the two distant figures.

Under the illumination of lanterns farther up the path, the sight nearly made her heart stop. The shorter creature was a man—an orc, by the short tusks protruding from his lower jaw and the mossy hue of his skin. His face twisted in frustration as he stumbled forward, shoved by the half-giant woman who towered behind him. The luminescent bottle in his hand fell to the ground, shattering its frosted glass as he crumpled atop the shards.

A single, belligerent shout from the woman brought him scrambling to his feet. He cried out, crimson stains seeping through his worn, tan trousers.

The half-giant was unrelenting. She barked orders at him to move, and when he didn't, she sent him to the ground again with one swift kick to his rear—but it wasn't her violent force or the way she laughed at the orc's pain that made Eva's heart leap into her throat.

It was the cerulean lines banding across her metal breastplate in lightning-strike formations, shining from beneath the thin, black cloak draped across her shoulders.

That particular shade of blue had always been Eva's favorite, but she wished she'd never see it again. Not with the knowledge that only one Astraelan troupe wore that hue with pride, making it feared among any out-of-the-ordinary folk who could be accused of dark magic.

The Luxanima Guild.

A slight tug on her arm signaled Emrys pulling himself away from the tree. Leaning against her for continued support, he led her farther from the path, where a run-down, wooden shed rested behind a line of overgrown bushes. He tugged at the door with one arm and managed to jerk it open with nary a creak. He fired a quick glance at their surroundings before pulling her inside and shutting the door behind them. Any adjustments Eva's vision had made were for naught as they plunged into deeper darkness.

Emrys let go of her hand, and his shoes padded across the floorboards. The Guild officer's shouting had been so muffled in the distance that even the rustling of his satchel overpowered it.

It was a long moment before Eva built up the courage to speak in a hushed tone. "How are we supposed to get past them?"

"We aren't," whispered Emrys. "You are."

Eva couldn't see his expression in the pitch blackness of the shed, but she knew he couldn't have held the confidence his voice projected.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I'm out of my form." Emrys huffed, and the sounds of his bag were replaced by his feet shuffling closer. "If I wasn't too weak to be Jensen right now, I'd be fine, but the Guild will kill me on sight. They aren't after you. Here."

Eva jumped at the tap on her wrist, but she opened her loose fists just as he pressed fabric into her palms. "What's this?"

Her words were followed by the clunk of boots being dropped at her feet.

"Your new identity." Emrys' feet scuffed along the floor again, more sluggish with each step. "You'll need to look like any other Astraelan so you don't draw attention. If they think you're a common witch, you can waltz right in."

His soft grunt echoed before a pulse of light illuminated the shed in crimson. The glow emanated from his palm, which he held behind his back as he leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead to the wooden slats. His chest heaved with labored breaths.

"I can't hold this long. Try to change quickly."

Eva hesitated, eyes lingering upon the familiar clothes he'd placed in her hands. Just the sight of the sleek, black fabric—one of Thana's trusty adventuring outfits—made a lump form in her throat.

Astraelans had a primarily Gothic fashion—hauntingly beautiful and tailored to flatter any shape with dark glamor. Vastly different from her typically earth-toned garments, it was a style that she never felt she'd be able to pull off, but her current ensemble of Bobbi's favorite yellow sweater and floral-print leggings would cry for attention.

Not wanting to keep Emrys waiting, she stripped the wet clothes from her body. She had to admit, when she pulled the cold-shoulder crop top over her head, the dry fabric was welcome.

"I don't get it," she muttered, tugging at the shirt's choker collar. "What good will it do if I'm out there and you're stuck in this musty shed?"

Emrys shifted his weight, pressing his nose further against the wall. The light dimmed from the palm of his hand, but he braced his fingers and hissed through the pain.

"The bartender is a friend of mine," he said. "Mystia Grievland. Probably looks like a satyr."

"Probably?"

"Stick with me." Emrys' voice was strained but patient. "Mystia and I have a code phrase we use when we're in another form or send a message with someone. It's in her traditional language." The light faded until it was hardly visible, and his trembling hand cast fluttering shadows across the shed. "Trust me... if anyone can get us to safety without ruffling feathers, it's her."

Eva hiked the shorts over her hips, casting an uneasy glance at their attached garter belts. She feared that adjusting the brass buckles to fit her thighs would waste precious time, but much to her surprise, they slipped into place without issue. In fact, they molded around her legs perfectly, as if crafted specifically for her.

Even the heeled combat boots, lying at her feet where Emrys had dropped them, fit like a dream. Everything about the ensemble filled her with a rush of confidence she hadn't expected.

It felt... right.

"I'm good," said Eva once she finished securing the top straps of her boots. "You can turn around."

Before she could finish her sentence, the room plunged back into darkness, and Emrys' heavy breathing filled the space. When she heard him turn around, sliding his back against the wall of the shed, she recalled watching him change in the woods. Guilt panged in her chest.

She shoved the feeling away. "How do I look?"

"Perfect."

Light filtered inside the shack when Emrys tugged on the door to peek outside. Even in the barely-there glow from faraway lanterns, his face was ashen and glistened with sweat. He pulled his graying hand tight to his chest. Only then did Eva realize it was the same one he had used to light the room.

He turned his sullen eyes back to her and motioned for her to come closer.

"All you need to do is walk in like anyone else," he said, hardly able to utter the words under his breath. "Get yourself to the bar, find that satyr, and tell her: titalium exio lassa."

Eva blinked at the mishmash of syllables. The foreign language was one she didn't recall from all her years of dreaming—nor had she ever heard anything like it on Earth.

"Come again?"

"We can have a Duolingo session tomorrow. If you say it like that, she'll know what you mean."

Emrys barely got out the final word before his legs gave out. Eva rushed to keep him from falling too hard, but his knees cracked against the wood with a loud thunk. Panic rose in his eyes, and she turned before he could see the same fear in her own.

There was no way in hell his issues stemmed from a cool down. Something was very, very wrong.

"I'm getting you help." She tried to swallow down her thickening voice. "Please, just hang in there."

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