I remembered the sun shining long ago on the day the world started to feel real again after I learned the truth, even though I'd been told since it was actually cloudy and cold. It was after I left the Sacred School. The first time Leif took me hunting. That day in the woods, I shot a deer I had to squint through the thick of trees and thickets to see. Leif howled, and danced, and lifted my arms in victory. That was the first time his family and neighbors had meat in a couple of weeks.

It had started with the jolt in my heart when Leif celebrated my shot. Later, when I saw him fill his toddler's bowl with venison stew, when chubby little cheeks broke into a grin, the jolt sparked into something I hadn't felt in a year. Joy.

Our world might not have been real, but we were, and our connections to one another were woven into the fabric of existence, as real, more real, than anything that had ever been.

“How do you feel?”

I stiffened at Nash’s voice. He'd carried me away after I passed out and didn't seem to trust me when I told him my fainting spells were nothing to worry about. We sat on the leafy floor, quiet for the ten minutes that I'd been awake. I searched the green canopy overhead like I would find answers. I not only had to save my people from the Prophet of the Valley, but now from the Flatlanders.

“Max?”

A growl rumbled in my chest. “I feel like I abandoned my heart and soul.”

Leaves crunched as he scooted closer. “You honored Leif’s wishes.”

I crossed my arms atop my knees and settled my head down, turning my face to the side to see him. His jaw was reddened where I’d punched him, swollen enough to notice with just a glance. “Is your face okay?”

“I can tell the world I narrowly survived a direct hit from the great Sharpshooter.” He smirked and touched the spot. “I’m fine. But you hit a lot harder than I thought you could. You’ll break your hand if you keep hitting like that.”

I tucked my hand beneath my knees so he couldn’t see it. It wasn’t even sore. With that one hit, I'd somehow managed to accidentally draw more power than I had in a while. Still, it was nothing compared to what I'd once done.

“Tell me your plan, already.” Nash tossed a pebble at my leg. “I know you’ve done more than sulk over there.”

When I'd been exiled from the Sacred School, I only wanted my power back. Finding Leif's village and falling in love with the people there had come as a surprise. For the first time, though, I wished that instead of regaining my power, I could simply take it away from everyone. Humans could not be trusted with it and I could do just fine with my bow.

There was no use in thinking about the impossible, though. I was not going to strip the world of power. I needed to focus on saving my people from the Prophet. My only option was to find a way back to my power on the Mountain of the Gods. And perhaps to even reach Piercey in the Sacred School. If he had allies, we could amass enough power to take on the Prophet's forces, and likely Flare. I didn't trust her, at all. Which reminded me that I shouldn't trust Nash.

“I’ll tell you my plan,” I said. “If you tell me yours."

"Same as before. I want us to kill the Prophet together."

“Your plan is too simple." It was time to be honest about at least that much. "The Prophet has enormous power. More than the best demons.”

I didn’t tell Nash why that was. The Prophet was exactly like the demons, except that he’d trained at the Sacred School. That was the only difference between Prophets and demons. I saw that so clearly because I had lived as both. Even as a child, they called me demon because they feared my power. When the Sacred School took me in to help me tame my power, they changed how the world saw me. Suddenly, I was not a demon, but on the path to becoming Prophet. The only difference between those two versions of myself was that I'd been given an education.

One I completely abandoned. When I trained at the Sacred School, something my instructors claimed was an incredible privilege, I'd rebelled against the gods and everything they stood for. The instructors were hypocrites and they abandoned our world to suffer while they looked down on the innocent from their mountain. My stand had cost me everything I'd had at that point. I never regretted it though. I saw the gods and the instructors for what they were. Frauds. My only regret was that I had not yet found a way to reverse their seal on my power.

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“They still have flesh and blood," Nash said. "You don’t think an arrow could kill one?”

“Have you ever seen a demon or a Prophet die?”

Nash straightened. “No. Have you?”

“I have. They’re very hard to kill. Their survival instinct kicks in and they’re as dangerous as what you hear in the legends.”

“There’s only a handful of Prophets or demons capable of the power you hear about in the legends.”

“Normally, yes. Get one of them on the verge of death, and they’re all worthy of their own legends."

He quieted. "I've heard stories. I just never know how much to believe. There's talk about the Devourer from fifteen years ago who killed thirty men in battle just by looking at them."

I shifted. "Stories are never entirely true."

"Eclipse." Nash blew a puff of air. "That's who the Prophet says he's saving us from with these sacrifices during eclipses."

My heart hammered at the name. This talk couldn't continue. "The Prophet murders people during the Eclipse to control everyone." Heat warmed my palms. I squeezed my hands together. "Look… I'm trying to tell you that your plan won't work. You have a daughter to think about. Just listen to me.”

“I refuse to believe he's impossible to kill. We have to do this.”

The Prophet had finished his training, so I knew for a fact he was more powerful than I had been at my peak. I gave up so much for my dissent. To say I regretted it was too simple. But I hurt, especially now, for the advantage I'd lost. Even if the Prophet had more power, I'd still kill him. I'd kill him because I had to and because I actually had something worth fighting for.

“To kill the Prophet we need help.” Once I told him, I couldn’t go back. “I have a friend on the Mountain of the Gods.”

That shocked him to silence for a moment. “How do you have a friend on that mountain? It's the most deadly place in the world.”

I’d made it off the mountain alive, but, as far as I knew, I was the only one. Before having my power sealed, I'd tried escaping, and while I had been banished instead of executed, no one was offering to help me get down the Mountain. I had to do that myself and it had nearly killed me. If I’d followed the rules, I would have been well on my way to becoming a Prophet by now. They wanted me to make myself so small that no one would see me and to live out my days in silence. Well, they had another thing coming. I knew the weaknesses of the mountain. I knew how to make it through. I could do this.

I hardened my voice. “I know what I’m doing. This is the plan. I'm sticking to it."

"Then I'm coming. You won't make it up that mountain alone."

His skills would be invaluable. How could I risk Nash's life though? He didn’t have power and I couldn’t assume that I’d be able to protect him. I had no idea if I'd be able to access more of my power or not or whether I'd even get it back. Plus, if he acted as Flare's spy, I didn't want to travel with him anyway. “I’m going alone. You have a daughter. It's too dangerous for you.”

“You can't tell a father not to protect his child.”

He had a point. If I had a child, I would want to do the same. Still, I didn't want him to come with me, not when he didn't understand what he was getting into. "I’m not taking you. You’ll slow me down.”

“Bullshit. I’m as good with my blades as you are with your bow. You’re still angry with me.” Nash softened his voice. “That’s why you won’t let me help you.”

I rose and moved for a blackberry vine a few trees down, picking them with my teeth clenched. He acted like he wanted to help, but I couldn't stop thinking of Flare saying she trusted him.

Nash met me and took a berry from my palm. Lifted it to my lips. “Stop brooding. Eat something.”

I pushed away his hand. “Stop toying with me. We don’t know each other. Don’t speak to me like we’re friends.”

Nash dropped the berry back into my palm. “I know some things about you. I know how your eyes look when you face death, or when you lose, or when you’re drunk."

I scowled. “Now you know the sting of my anger. You’re only fortunate it isn’t my wrath.”

"Max."

“Leif is my brother.” I stared into Nash’s eyes. “I was unknown once, too. Then he knew me. He became my family.”

“If you really wanted to stop me from taking you away from Leif, we wouldn’t be here.” Nash’s voice lowered. “Is that really why you're angry with me?”

"Fine. I'm angry with you because you're a shady liar." My chest tightened. "Nash the Unknown. Even your name is shady."

"I got that name as a boy. I wandered into the village, half-dead, unknown by anyone. It stuck."

"I'm not an idiot." That story could have been true, but the name wouldn't have stuck all these years with how good he was with his swords. The Unknown. What could he have done to earn the name except live a life of secrets? “You said the Prophet didn’t trust you and yet he’s given you so much freedom. Nothing is free.” I glared at him. “You’re a spy.” Flames awakened in my chest. “You’re Unknown because he named you so. That’s the real reason you know Flare.”

Not a hint of concern crossed Nash's expression at my accusation. “Come on, Sharpshooter. You already knew I was in the service of the Prophet.”