Trynneia wept in her wagon. Eilic had taken Ylane, the girl’s futile screams for him to let her go ignored by her uncaring captor. Modius refused to let Trynneia intercede before personally tying her within. He stood nearby, admiring his handiwork.

“You didn’t have to do that to Ditan,” she said. “That was torture for torture’s sake and nothing else.”

“Of course you would see it that way. I don’t need to explain my reasons to you, Daughter of the Light. But I shall.”

She gritted her teeth. Modius had hauled her up again, hands suspending her from the ceiling. “He deserved none of it, Warden.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, child. I did listen to you. I put some trust in what you said to me, and while he remained confined, I left him unrestrained out of courtesy. To you.”

“I’m sure he was flattered,” she spat.

“He didn’t know what to do with himself. So we watched him, Trynneia. Do you know what he did?”

“You know I don’t. You wouldn’t let me anywhere near him.” She tugged on the shackles tightly locked around her wrists. Her weight caused the metal to bite, cutting her until she bled from many scratches.

Modius sat near the crates at the rear of the wagon, looking up at her. “We’ve been traveling for almost a week. He did nothing. Didn’t try to escape. Didn’t try to summon his little friends. I almost wanted to think that somehow he’d ‘given up’ being a shaman.” He chuckled. “Like that was ever a possibility. No. He sang.”

“Singing is not a crime,” Trynneia said. “So why does that matter?”

“That’s the thing. We don’t often encounter singers among the shamans we Cull. I wanted to discover what he was trying to do.”

“He was lonely. He liked humming. I do it too. It’s calming.”

“Ah, but you haven’t, and he did. But tonight. Tonight.” Modius leaned back. The admiration on his face mixed with bemused cruelty. “I had a thought.” He rummaged in his trousers for a moment and pulled out a bundle of sticks. The totem. “You remember this, don’t you?”

Trynneia hadn’t seen the totem since before their trial. Colors swirled around it, drawing her attention. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. Modius moved it back and forth. Its shimmer entranced her and she followed it with her eyes. “Yes,” she managed to say.

“Very fascinating,” Modius observed. “Ditan’s singing is unique in many ways. Now, I’m no expert at music. But the way he carried a tune was…transcendent. I knew only one other person with that skill.” He continued to move the totem around as he stood, bringing it closer.

Held within nose distance, she could feel and almost smell the motion of color as it wicked away in its chaotic dance. Unintelligible whispers bombarded her. She shut her eyes to block out the sight.

“He damaged the Grimcell tonight. Something in his song did that. I allowed it to happen, of course. Just to see.”

“That’s unfair. It’s your fault, and you punish him for it?” The sensations faded, and Trynneia opened her eyes. The totem was gone. “You wanted us to watch it. Why?”

Using both hands, he pried her eyelids open with his fingers and stared. Modius held her tight, and she could not pull away. His gaze looked deep and she couldn’t help but look back, pitting her will against his. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I won’t let you find it, she thought.

“Your eyes won’t deceive you, Trynneia. I won’t let them. He felt my lash. You know that pain as well. The three of you are siblings now. Blood has been shared between you. There’s something intimate in that.”

“So?”

“None of you are any better than the others. I wanted to remind you of that, but also to see how he differs.”

Trynneia couldn’t help but remember how Ditan bucked and jerked in response to the lash. Thirty strikes Modius threw against him. Her friend had stopped howling after eleven. It hadn’t stopped the Warden, only emboldened him. Some of his blood still covered her, flung from the whip as it recoiled. When he finished, the Red had dragged away his bloody ruin. She didn’t know if he still lived. It seemed to be a common occurrence now. A fact of life.

“You left him with Sariam. I can heal him.”

“I have no doubt that you can, child. But he’s unlocked now. We’ve lowered our Grimfields. His Grimcell is damaged. She will restore him, and he will discover he has power. I want you to see what a shaman can do. You need to understand.” He caressed her cheek. “I want you to see the evil present.”

“I see evil every time I see you, Warden. Nothing will change that.”

“Then you do not recognize it at all. That is why you must see,” he said. The caress turned to a grip on both sides of her jaw. “You are marked by Elerion. Your duty is to understand your enemy.”

-Your duty is your purpose.- Whispered words of another time slid through her mind.

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You’re my enemy, she thought as he turned and walked away. I will never understand you. Her runes burned dark orange, muted in the darkness of her wagon. His aura matched her disposition, and his passage dragged along the few wisps present beside him.

That he had the totem left her rattled. It affected her more than she recalled, and knew it had an even more pronounced effect on Ditan. Modius meant to force him to use his powers. To what end?

She yanked at her restraints again, only causing herself more pain. Trynneia hated her helplessness. He’s only done this to prevent me from stopping him. He knows I would. Her shoulders burned. In the distance, she heard a scream. Laughter followed. Ylane. What are they doing to her? She sobbed.

Everything is falling apart.

-It doesn’t have to.-

No, it doesn’t, she thought. Several brown and white will o’the wisps circled near her toes. I would tear down this wagon if I could get to her or Ditan, to stop all this. The wisps lurched away.

-Why wait?-

Ylane screamed again. Trynneia felt her horror. Ditan’s scream joined Ylane’s, weak and hoarse but still loud. Please, stop hurting them. His volume increased, becoming a howl. Stop it!

Her wagon rocked, shaken by a gust of wind. Sand began to pelt the canvas, its pattering violence becoming loud and raucous, searching for the slightest gaps to penetrate. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the support structure of her wagon, followed close after by thunder. Deafening. It begins.

-Yes.-

Sand found its way through gashes in the canvas, hurled by the growing force of wind outside. Everything battered back and forth, and Trynneia could not protect herself from the dust choking her lungs and clogging her eyes. Her runes shifted from orange to white, creating a field that reduced her pain but did not stop the abrading sand from tearing away flesh. Dust and sand mixed with her wounds to cake her with bloody mud. Her voice joined her friends in their pain.

The crates knocked about, their contents creating a low rumble like marbles rattling in a box. Amid the din, all she could think about was Ditan raging against his captivity. Keep going, she urged him. Break free!

Sariam climbed into the back of her wagon, not bothering to lower the gate. She pulled the canvas ties together to hold against the fierceness of the wind, then sat near Trynneia’s feet, her head twitching like an over-eager bird examining a worm. The Red put her hands on Trynneia’s ankles and held them together, muttering something low and quiet.

As the storm crescendoed, the relentless savagery of lightning and thunder drowned out screams that rose even from the Sentinels nearby. She imagined that they all hid from the raging storm, finding shelter where they could. Sariam’s presence was evidence of that. The woman sat rocking forwards and backwards, still clasping Trynneia’s ankles.

Sariam’s papery skin burned where it touched her. Trynneia couldn’t pull away, fastened to the floor as they were. No one else came, leaving her alone with the Red. Lightning hit very close. Something crashed outside and shouts arose.

“It burnsss, it burnsss. When it fallsss, it failsss. Sssee hisss rage. Thisss isss hisss,” Sariam said, continuing to rock. Trynneia could smell wood burning nearby as the air grew warm and an orange glow pushed away the darkness.

I can’t get away. If that fire reaches us, I’ll die. Sariam won’t help me. She’ll save herself. She could see licks of flame through the ripped canvas, so close a change in wind direction would drive it right at them. Trynneia watched in horror, just able to make out the nearest wagon burning, broken and shattered by the lightning.

Sentinels rushed around, flinging sand at it to put out the fire. This needs to stop. Ditan, you need to stop! She couldn’t hear his screaming anymore, just wind howling and men hollering. Minutes stretched as she wailed. Trynneia panicked, truly terrified as a storm raged out of control.

Modius was right, she thought, though she blamed him for instigating this. Survival became her priority, and her inability to act on it left her impotent. We’re all in danger here.

-This is what you wanted.-

“You sssee it now, don’t you?” Sariam caressed Trynneia’s feet. “The wrath of the shaman?”

Canvas shredded and tore under the onslaught, flapping tattered edges whose torn threads made irritated snapping noises as they recoiled. I never wanted this, Trynneia thought. Oh, Dee. What have you done?

She couldn’t believe the ferociousness of the storm, and would never have understood such devastation existed if it didn’t surround her. Sweat drenched her clothing, both from terror and the nearness of the approaching flames.

He’s lost control. Or at the least, losing it. He needs my help, she knew. Dare I? Trynneia couldn’t imagine what Modius had done to him to trigger this outburst. “He’s unlocked,” she whispered. “Is this what he meant?”

Sariam bobbed her head, smiling her toothy grin. Her blood red aura undulated around her slight frame, and the craze omnipresent in her eyes left Trynneia deeply unsettled as she gave in to the inevitability of the storm. Another gust blasted the wagon, momentarily lifting it off two of its wheels before slamming it back down.

“Just make it stop,” Trynneia whimpered. “Please.”

The howling began slowing. She had the sense that someone had managed to attach a horse to the rear of the wagon somehow. It lurched away from the roaring fire that greedily consumed their neighboring wagon. Amid the terror she felt, it brought relief to know someone worked to rescue her.

She wasn’t the only one to notice the storm winding down. The orders outside changed as the Sentinels abandoned the burning wagon, focusing instead of rescuing those remaining nearby. No rain came in the desert to bring relief to the dry, parched travelers fighting to survive. Rain wouldn’t even help, she thought grimly. It would just make it worse.

“How do I keep him from getting worse?” she wondered aloud.

Sariam smiled.