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It meanders for miles. And though it’s packed hard, which makes it easier for running, with so many undead Richters ahead of me, it’s not long before I’m sandblasted in their wake.

I trudge forward, eyes squinched against the spray, trying to stay focused on the big one, when they sprint up a hill, only to scale it and drop out of sight—disappearing so quickly my heart leaps into my throat, sure I’ve lost them for good. Only to find myself falling as well—swallowed by a tunnel of sand that ingests me deeper and deeper into the earth.

The Lowerworld.

That’s where I’m going. That’s where they’re going too. Intent on wreaking unspeakable damage—fueled by the power of my grandmother’s soul.

But they’re so far ahead, there’s no way to catch up—no way to stop them from entering.

All I can do is go with the fall—my body tumbling, rolling, getting sucked in so deep I can no longer see. My eyes squeezed tight, lips clamped shut, and yet I’m still inundated with great gobs of sand that slip into my ears, grind between my lips, and spread across my teeth.

It’s horrible.

Unbearable.

I can’t breathe, can’t survive it much longer.

The sound of them flailing before me the only thing that keeps me hanging on—reminding me of my purpose, giving me the incentive to keep going.

My ears filled with the sound of their howling and yelping, so tantalizingly close yet so far away. And the next thing I know, I’m out. Slamming hard against the ground, surrounded by undead Richters sprawled all around me.

I blink. Spit. Jump to my feet and dive for the big one, determined to catch him, to stop him at last. But Paloma’s soul has empowered him and he moves far too fast.

They circle and scatter—zigzagging around him in an effort to confuse. And just as I start to gain ground, they split into several small groups that go several different ways. Leaving me with no choice but to forfeit the majority to get to the one.

Trying not to think about all those Richters now loose in the Lowerworld.

Trying not to think about how I’ve failed Paloma, failed as a Seeker in every conceivable way.

All I can do is keep my eye on the prize—racing after him as he heads for a thick grove of trees, causing the spirit animals to dart from our path. So unused to any unrest, much less the invasion of evil, they go into hiding, unsure what to make of it as he continues to move through the brush so quickly, I know I can’t do this alone. I either do something serious, something to stop him, or I’m seconds away from defeat.

I call upon the elements.

Call upon Raven.

My ancestors too.

If what Paloma says is true—that they’re everywhere, part of everything—then they’ll find me here too.

The wind shows up first, wafting and whirling, kicking up great clouds of dust that cut all visibility. And when the earth begins to quake, causing the freak to lose his footing, well, it’s just the boost that I need to push him to the ground, clamp my legs on either side of him, and slam his face into the dirt.

Shouting in victory as I tighten my grip—my triumph short-lived when I realize I have no idea what comes next.

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He struggles against me, fights to break free, but I use all my strength to cling fast to his back and tighten my hold. One hand fisting around a greasy clump of black hair, I yank his head back, and shove my free hand into his mouth. Having no idea if I’m on the right track, but knowing that one way or another, I have to get this thing out.

The soul no longer lost, it’s time to retrieve it—time to wrench it from him so I can return it to Paloma. But with no idea how to do that, I shout, “Give it to me!” Fingers pushing past his tongue, going straight for his throat, when he bites down so hard it threatens to break through my skin.

I yank my hand free, shrieking in frustration and pain, as I grasp his hair tighter and slam his face into the dirt so hard bits of mask break free and embed in his flesh—repeating the move so many times I lose track.

Stopping only when a voice drifts from behind me and says, “I can’t say I blame you, but we really need to keep him alive.”

Dace!

He kneels beside me, answering the question in my gaze when he says, “I heard your call. Horse brought me here as quickly as he could—Raven led the way.”

He heard the call?

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