The horses refused to enter the town. The buildings and houses appeared through the break in forest and mountains, and both animals met their own invisible wall and refused to go any further. Penn leapt from the back of Asher’s chestnut mare as soon as they stopped, landing effortlessly, and bolting towards the town centre.

Asher made sure both animals were tied safely to a resting post, though he hated leaving them. Whatever happened next, it felt wrong to leave them tied up. He loosened the knot on the reigns, enough that they would come free if they pulled hard and fast enough. Norrah hadn’t said anything since his half- clear explanation of what Penn was, but she followed silently as he rushed after the Nakati. He made it two steps before the air turned off.

Asher’s lungs burned and his legs lost their bones, sending him to the ground. Pain wracked through his injured calf, muted by the emptiness in his lungs. No air ran down his throat, nothing filled his chest, and nothing pressed into him or lodged anywhere to block it. There was no air. Nothing he could do to pull anything in, nothing to pull in.

Norrah hovered over him in a blurry haze, her words swallowed by a growing ringing in his ears. She shook his shoulder, then drove her fist into the base of his ribcage and twisted her fingers into a point between his lungs. The sensation vanished as quickly as it’d come and cold, liquid air ran down his throat, making him gag. Dizziness washed over him as he struggled to steady himself.

‘What was that?’ Norrah demanded.

The air shifted again, and Asher braced for another attack of asphyxiation, but it didn’t come. Instead the breeze crackled with the same burning that the spirits caused, but it was everywhere. No spirits were anywhere around him, not even channelling in the same way it had at the manor.

‘We’re running out of time,’ his voice was raspy and sore.

‘You scare me now, Lieutenant,’ Norrah muttered. She grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. ‘What exactly is your plan here?’

‘Get people out of Dalvany.’ Asher stumbled forward after Penn. ‘Everyone.’

‘Alright, but you’re not talking to them after your little stunt,’ Norrah said. ‘I’m going to go ahead, and you keep everything… not human away from the Square. I’d appreciate if you didn’t have another episode on top of that.’

‘That works for me,’ Asher said. ‘Watch out for Delana and her Sovereignty.’

Norrah nodded, then let go of him and bolted down the road, sprinting faster than Asher had expected she could. He rushed after her as fast as he could.

The closer he came to the Town Square, the hotter the energy in the air became, until he had to undo his coat and leave it clipped over his shoulder, but even in only a shirt the air prickled and burned the hairs along his arms and the back of his neck. Whatever was coming, it was coming faster. Or he was getting closer.

Asher pressed on.

Screams tore through the air, and he froze as the ground rippled beneath him as though a rock had hit a pond, the waves turning cobblestone to grass, to volcanic stone, to sand, then back to the regular street once again. Similar ripples pulsed across the sky above, red then black then white, searing through his eyes and sending a sharp pain through his skull. He shook it away, and the strange sight vanished.

‘… I understand you’re afraid!’ Norrah’s voice rang out. ‘But it’s happened before, and we got through it. If everyone could please make their way to the Manor! Please travel in groups, there’s space for everyone!’

Another voice yelled out, too muted by distance to make out the words, and Asher forced himself forward. He spotted Penn kneeling in the shadow of a tailor shop on the edge of the square, his hand pressed into the ring that enveloped the Town Centre. He didn’t look up as Asher hobbled over to him.

‘I need witch stuff,’ Penn said.

‘The dust?’ Asher glanced around, spotting a crack in the road where ghostly weeds reached up as tall as his ankle, like little fingers stretched towards him. This time when he scooped them up into his hands, that same familiar dust collected into a small pile, not joined with the same surge of heat through his chest. Yet, when he stood, another sprout of spiritual grass burst forth from the same crack, he brushed it with his leg and that heat surged up through his boot, exploding through his chest the same as before. As he dropped the dust into Penn’s waiting hands, Penn frowned.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

‘How did you do that?’ he asked. ‘Witch trick?’

‘I don’t know,’ Asher admitted. His only guess was that something had changed when he was in Pelortiani.

Penn dropped the dust onto the ashen ring, then leaned over and pressed a finger into Asher’s chest. ‘They’re in there now. You’re holding them.’

Asher shivered. ‘I still don’t know how.’

‘Don’t let them burn you.’

Asher tried to shake the idea of a living thing burrowed into his chest, but another bright, sharp pain sliced into his head, and Penn hissed in pain next to him. He glanced up at Asher, sharing a look that Asher could only guess the meaning behind. They were too late to do anything.

The same ripples tore across the ground again, this time stopping at the part of the ring Penn had been fiddling with as though hit by an invisible wall. The pressure in the air grew stronger, building and pressing down onto them, and Asher braced for the buildings around them to crumble and implode in on themselves. Penn shouted out and thrust his arms forward, and the ring of ash exploded in a white flame. Starting at the point where he had dropped the dust, it burst upwards, then sailed along the ring as though gunpowder had been fused in. The crowd in the square screamed, and Asher leapt over the fire, rushing into the square as the entire group of people charged for the road, panicked, pushing, desperate. Norrah called for calm, but it did nothing to ease the growing chaos.

An older man fell free of the crowd, crashing into the stone ground on the edge of the square. Asher rushed forward, his cane sinking into the sand as he struggled back to solid ground, but as he hooked the man’s arm around his own, the stranger recoiled with a shout. He scrambled to his feet on his own and disappeared into the crowd. A few people turned to stare at him, a mix of fear and hatred on their faces. Asher cursed silently.

The clang of metal was the only warning he had before the alleyways each filled with heavily armoured soldiers, each wearing the colours of the Town Guard and hoisting shields in front of their body. The crowd calmed, but kept moving in their chaotic rush, as each took up positions. The group closest to Asher locked onto him, and the line behind the shields aimed rifles over shoulders, one out of the four of them aimed at him.

Asher swore again and rushed for the awning of a nearby café, ducking behind the arch of the doorway as a shot tore through the air, and he considered his options. What were the guard doing here?

Olive. Olive had to be behind this.

The fire sweeping across the ashen line finally reached this end, sweeping across the ground and cutting off sand from stone. The guards across the square recoiled, and shouts echoed out from the nearest street. A few of the townsfolk were thrown back, cut off from the rest of the crowd and falling back into the sand. Asher ducked forward, throwing himself over the ring and landing on his knees next to the fallen people, before he plunged his hand into the fire.

It turned to dust at his touch, smothering part of the ring and killing the path. A gap appeared, turning to ash again, and the burning under Asher’s skin seared as the pressure dropped on top of him again, the air itself pushing back against this new barrier. The dozen people who had fallen stared at him, some scrambling back, towards the middle of the ring.

‘Go!’ Asher ordered.

A teenage girl had fallen next to a massive sow, its round body as wide as she was tall, and the rope around its neck had fallen from her grip. With a squeal, the animal charged on its stubby legs, kicking up sand and ash before running down the road. The girl glanced at Asher, then clambered to her feet and rushed after it. The others followed.

Another shot rang out, sending a plume of sand up at Asher’s feet, and Asher scrambled back as another guard in his peripherals took aim. There had to be nearly one-hundred in the formations, blocking every exit except for the one towards the manor. One of them would hit.

‘Stand down!’ Norrah stood on the caved in part of the Town Hall stairs, the stone sword still in her hand. ‘He is here to help us!’

‘You weren’t ever in charge here!’ one of the guards yelled.

The pressure grew stronger, the lights bouncing off dusty windows brighter, and Asher struggled to get to his feet as the air itself pushed him back down, pressing against the inside of his skin and holding him in place. He shut his eyes against the glare, but it didn’t block anything out.

Another shot fired, and something hot caught against Asher’s arm, making him jump. A blackened hole had appeared in the upper arm of his skin, but the skin itself hadn’t broken – only a red smear marked the skin. If he were still guard himself, he would have had every member of this Sovereignty group learn how to shoot properly.

‘Hold your positions!’ Olive broke from one of the groups, and when her eyes fell on Asher, she recoiled. Her pistol levelled at his head before he could blink, but Penn was in front of him just as fast, throwing his arms wide.

‘The circle will hold,’ he growled. ‘Nothing else will. We’re too late.’

A cold chill ran down Asher’s spine. He turned to Norrah. ‘Get in the ring!’ he ordered.

Norrah leapt from the steps and slipped against the sand, but rushed to stand with him. A few guards broke their position to obey as well, but their companions stopped them. Asher felt that pang of anger again, the same he had let loose at the crowd before.

‘Get in the ring!’ he shouted. ‘The fire won’t hurt you!’

‘He’s right, it doesn’t burn!’ Norrah yelled. ‘That’s your order!’

None of the guard moved. Norrah opened her mouth to shout again, when every window in the surrounding buildings shattered. Shouts of alarm echoed out as shards rained down over the square, tiny slices scattering the guards and stabbing into the sand around them. Penn held up his hand but didn’t say anything, preparing for something more.

‘Get in the ring!’ Asher cried.

This time a dozen of the guards obeyed, leaping and scrambling across the line of fire as though it did burn, as more gunshots rang out from the back of one of the groups. The sound came with that familiar prickle against the back of Asher’s neck, a familiar dread that warned him before a monster fell from the sky above.