Page 81 of The Bonds of Indigo

“And where is that?” I ask.

“Northwest of here. There’s a famous waterfall at the furthest tip of Alameris and Nevadia. A natural hot spring formed in the mountainside on the other side of it, and it has a high energy circulation. At least, that’s what the website said.”

Groaning, I drag my fingers through my hair. I wanted to stay as far away from the west as possible. “Is there no other one going east?”

She sighs and shakes her head. “They’ll have less energy because they’re closer to Old Hearth. We could go south, but it would take longer, and… I feel like we’ve already wasted a lot of time.”

Movement flickers at the edge of my vision. People inside the dining area are suddenly rushing, attention shifting toward the mounted television. The volume spiking around us.

“It’s fine to backtrack, I think,” Atlas chimes in, but I’m already turning toward the TV.

“—Firefighter crews are on scene now trying to put out the flames.”

The camera pans from the newscaster toward a thick column of black smoke. I don’t recognize the town, the angle, anything. Just destruction. “Ma’am! Ma’am!” The reporter rushes to a blonde woman covered in ash. “Were you in the train? Did you see what happened?”

“It happened so fast! I think we crashed into something, and⁠—”

The explosion cuts the feed, the shock wave rattling our table.

I whip my head toward Amarah, just in time to see her shove to her feet and bolt.

“Wait!” I lunge for her arm, but she sidesteps cleanly and is gone, sprinting out of the dining area.

Getting to her is easy; she isn’t faster than any Mundane, but her stubbornness may as well be on the level of Xeraphine.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“You don’t feel that?”

“I did. It was like a mini earthquake.”

We reach the front doors of the hotel. The automated panels slide open, and the moment we step outside, I see the column of black smoke.

“No.” She bolts into the parking lot, heading straight toward the plume. “A fucking gate.”

I glance at Atlas. “Get the car.” He pivots toward the lot. “Be careful, and meet us there.”

Then I pick up my pace, scoop her up without breaking stride, and race toward the accident.

“Kayn,” she whispers. I look down. Terror floods her widened eyes. “There are Pyrehounds… I can feel them too.”

I don’t give a damn about those things—but hearing her say my first name hits me in a place I don’t want to acknowledge. It’s now I understand what she meant. The power of a name.

“Alright. Can you tell if the gate’s still open?” I shift my focus forward, weaving through halted traffic as we approach a slight incline leading toward a bridge. Beyond it, the smoke climbs in a thick, suffocating pillar. I can make out the rear cars of the train, but the front—no matter how hard I focus—is swallowed by the darkness.

“It feels closed, but there’s too much activity for me to be certain…” She pauses, then adds, “Don’t let them bite you. And remember not to touch them.”

People are sprinting away from the carnage, and I’m forced to slow as we hit the bridge. A river rushes beneath us, and I hesitate.

“I can’t run on water.”

“Put me down. We’ll run through the crowd at a Mundane speed.”

I set her on her feet, and she immediately grabs my wrist.

“Promise not to touch them, okay? Remember, I can’t carry your big ass, and there are still people after me. I need you… not to be incapacitated.”

I give her a slow nod, choosing to ignore the last part of her final sentence. “And you listen to me. If I say you need to run, you⁠—”