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Malakai pushes himself upright behind us. “Sage.”

I spin on him. “Where the fuck is he?”

Neither of them answers fast enough.

“WHERE IS HE?”

Rhett points through the smoke. “Old Communion ground.”

I’m running before he finishes.

“Sage!”

I don’t stop.

I tear across what’s left of Ward Farm, smoke burning my eyes and every breath scraping my throat raw.

The entire place is coming apart.

Or waking up.

I can’t fucking tell anymore.

Corn stalks rip themselves from the Earth and twist across the paths while roots split through the dirt beneath my feet. Vendor tents collapse in flames. People shove and claw past one another, running for the exits while the ground rolls beneath them.

Then the screaming changes.

I look toward the gates.

People are reaching them.

But they aren’t getting through.

A man runs full speed toward the parking lot and slams into absolutely fucking nothing. His body snaps backward and hits the ground. Two women behind him crash into the same invisible wall, their hands flying out against empty air.

More people reach the boundary.

More bodies stop.

Hands pound against something I can’t see.

Faces twist in terror.

“Let us out!”

“HELP!”

“OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!”

I slow.

“No.”

The boundary.

It’s still there.

Hundreds of people are trapped inside Ward Farm with that fucking thing.