Page 27 of Fallacies

I cannot be a chicken about this. I fought a three-headed snake, jumped presumably to my death, nearly drowned, then clawed my way through a muddy swamp while fighting off two menacing creatures. This will not break me. I refuse it.

The thunder that follows vibrates the sand I stand on, the dune shaking as if it might collapse at any moment.

Another strike follows, and I repeat the same process, making myself a conduit. But as the tail of it reaches for me, I scramble out of the way, letting it burn through the sand instead.

I swear some more, pacing over the top of the dune, shaking out my hands as if that will help. When the next strike comes, I don’t even attempt to catch it, cursing myself all the same when it splits the sand in front of me.

“Come on, Cin,” I mutter to my skittish heart, wiping my palms on my rain-slick thighs.

This time, while anticipation of the strike builds and fear pumps into my veins, I think of Ivy. She pops up out of nowhere, resurfacing like a happy memory I’d forgotten about. A memory of what she’d said once about fear:

“It only has the power you give it, Cin. Fear demands to be felt, so let it in, feel it, then starve it. Cut it off straight at its source. It won’t survive if you give it nothing to feast on.”

She’d said it like it was obvious. And maybe it was. Granted, at the time she was trying to talk me into using my fake ID at the liquor store in Draycott, but still.

The fear then felt as real to me as it does now, standing on top of this dune, trying to catch a bolt of lightning in the middle of a storm.

Something about the innocence of the memory soothes my frazzled nerves. I look over at the dune Pax stands on, a burst of confidence bleeding through the fear.

Lightning flashes and static fire crashes down on top of me. The light is so bright it’s blinding…and hot. The temperature keeps rising as it nears, warming my face as I squint into it. One second it’s barreling towards me, and the next second it slams into my open palm.

My knees hit the cool sand, my body crumbling under the weight of it.

For a moment, I think I might be dead—or dying—but when I crack my eyes open, the heavy raindrops coming down land on skin that glows.

Bright white lines flicker beneath my skin, webbing over my arms and legs. The magic in my veins isn’t warm anymore; it’s electrifying. Sharp stings zapping random nerve endings, making it nearly impossible to stand up at first.

My victory is short-lived when I realize the next task at hand. Nothing about what’s happening in my body right now feels controlled.

I glance at the target against the far wall.

How the hell am I supposed to aim?

Everything is blurry through the onslaught of the rain, but I do my best to focus on the bullseye, closing one eye as I lift a trembling hand and release enough lightning for a bolt to form. It bursts from my fingertips, racing through the raindrops, and at first, I don’t think my aim is half bad.

Until the bolt skitters across the sand.

I blame it on depth perception and raise my hand to try again, accounting for about how many feet I was off by. With a trembling breath, I’m about to release another strike of lightning when one shatters through the sand beside me.

In an attempt to scramble out of the way, I fall backwards, landing on my elbows.

Another strike hits, illuminating the desert. It packs a much more violent punch than Pax’s had, spearing straight into the sand and jolting the entire dune.

That’s when I see him, standing on top of a nearby dune, lightning wreathing his fingers just like Pax. But Callan is closer. Close enough that I can see his eyes over the top of his mask—stormy silver irises, searing straight through the rain. At me.

I almost don’t recognize him. He looks like a savage up on that hill, bright crackling light winding around his body like a snake.

Flinching out of my daze, I scramble back.

He’s readying to throw it.

Not for me to catch, I realize, but to interrupt my aim. To keep me from hitting the target.

All bets are off in Albatross, it seems.

Lightning still pulses through every inch of my body, but I need more. Well, I want more. Everything Callan has, and everything Pax has too.

It’s a foolish plan, one that I’m certain will have consequences, but I don’t just want to survive Albatross; I want to beat it.