Disembarking S.S. Gravitational Void has me wobbly. Landing doesn’t feel like landing. The floor’s nice and cool, though. It’s like laying my cheek against an ice rink.

“You okay, Sheyla?” The voice sounds forever away.

Focusing my eyes has me jerking back from Barry being right up in my grill. I open my mouth to speak but find my voice uncooperative, so I just breathe in his Fennel and Crushed Rock scent instead.

“Welcome to Sheelin,” Brody grumbles, stink-eyeing Barry when he smacks his hands off me. “Just helping her to her feet. Chill.”

“Why are we here?” My words are promptly followed by a coughing fit.

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Brody’s jaw clenches, his biceps flexing in synchrony. He isn’t impressed with the kangaroo mom next to me, who’s all but shoved me into his pouch. Ordinarily, I’d prefer the solitary visual of self-assurance, but I don’t have it in me to feign strength. I’m tired. I just want this, whatever this is, to finally be over.

“If it’s all the same to you, Tough Guy,” Barry snips, “some answers would be a show of good faith.”

Brody lowers his head. “They aren’t mine to give.” He’s full of regret.

His lack of reply is all the reply I need to know what’s happening. I’m getting what I asked for. They’re making sure I won’t be a problem for them anymore, and I’m perfectly content to allow it. Barry, on the other hand, needs to go back. His history with the Tribunal leaves me concerned for his safety.

The Solathair that converted Barry was hunted and destroyed for what he created, a creepy peeper shield. Barry’s forbidden gift protected him from the same fate. Now, he’s been delivered on a golden platter.

“Send him back,” I demand. My hoarse voice sort of countermands any menace I meant to inject.

“Can’t.” Brody clenches his jaw again, retrieving four stones from the floor.

“Won’t.” My tone is clipped, and I’m not altogether impressed with the lack of explanation. He’s acting differently, not the typical Brody I’m used to. This one is more formal. Less friendly.

“Can’t,” he repeats. “We need departure stones to leave.”

“Well, use the ones you just picked up to send him back.”

“These are landing stones.”

“They look the same to me.” I shove my hands in my pockets while Barry snakes an arm around my shoulder. “What happened to the departure stones you used to get us here?”

“They dissolved.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“The landing stones don’t dissolve?”

“Landing stones are permanent. Departure stones dissolve once used to keep anyone else from following or attempting to follow us here.”

“Where is here?”

Brody grunts. “Sheelin.”

“Yes, you’ve said that.” I sigh. “Where is Sheelin?”

“Sheelin isn’t technically anywhere.” He runs a hand through his sloppy, surfer hair. He looks tired. “Someone else can explain it better than me.”

“I don’t want someone else to explain it, Brody.” I cuff his forearm. “I want it to be you.”

“Can’t.”

Third time’s the charm? Or a hat trick? I’ll tell you one thing. If I had three hands, they’d all be giving my buddy the middle finger right now. “Won’t,” I snap, backing into Barry’s waiting arms, fingers flying. Two birds are better than zero.

Brody groans.

I take a few moments to get the lay of the land, what there is to see, anyway. We appear to be in a waiting room with no doors or windows. The ambient lighting is anything but calming. It’s dull enough to keep me from making out any details on the walls or floor, yet bright enough to show me there’s absolutely nothing in the room, not even a seat to sit in while we wait. On cue, a shifting sound comes from the far wall. Something’s being forcefully shoved aside.

“Follow me, please,” Brody requests, shoulders sagging.

“Like we have a choice.” I shake Barry’s arm from my shoulders, mustering a smidge of courage. If they’re looking to disassemble me, having him as an accessory will put him closer to harm’s way.

We walk with quiet steps down the seemingly endless hall until we get to the first window. It appears to be stained glass, a rainbow of light bleeding in as we advance. Fancy. Motion-sensitive panes.

There’s a subtle power release as the window slurps my energy. It happens to Brody first, but that doesn’t make it any less weird when it happens to me. The pane isn’t bleeding light in. It’s drawing light out. Our light.

I’m conflicted over the experience. It feels really good, but it also feels really bad. The windows feed from us, and the walls move of their own accord. Sheelin isn’t a place. It’s a thing. All bravery flees. I duck back under Barry’s shield. He’s curiously exempt from the strange drain phenomenon. Lucky duck.

“Sheelin runs on our energy,” Brody advises. “Not enough to incapacitate or anything like that. It draws a bit at a time in whatever way it needs.”

I stare blanks. Is that supposed to help me feel better? Yeah, no. No, it does not.

The rock-grinding happens again, this time to the right. Brody passes through the newly formed doorway, but I hesitate.

“I would’ve suggested it already if there was anywhere for us to run to,” Barry whispers.

The hall behind us has disappeared. There’s one path leading into the room Brody just entered. We have to follow.

Inside, the stone décor is replaced by an open, significant space. The dim lighting persists, but it’s considerably easier to see, illuminated by ghostly white, seamless walls. My depth perception must’ve been altered by the travel, or the illusionary surroundings are purposefully disorienting. I’m no more secure in this spherical tomb than in the narrow hallway.

A large table runs the length of the room, dividing the space. On the table’s far side are four large seats, similar in composition. Each has a familiar emblem engraved on the back: air, earth, fire, and water. They match the brands on Declan, Tally, and Dreyna’s palms.

As Molly explained, when a Solathair transitions, they’re brought to Sheelin to be permanently marked, according to their element. It’s a perpetually open wound, indicating a food source for any Sumair in the vicinity. Upon the initial meeting of a Solathair and Sumair, a light parade continues until the Solathair turns off the display. Along with disrupting Scholar visibility, Barry stops the light parade entirely. That’s why it took us so long to figure out the Connells were Sumairs.

“It’s empty,” Barry mumbles, pulling me to him.

The Sinsear Tribunal appears in a flash. Were they here this whole time? Air, Earth, Fire, and Water sit in their designated seats. My tinder heart stops beating. Is it too late to run?