Flynn Nightsider and the Shards of Shadow: Flynn Nightsider

By Mary Fan

Fight the power. Fight the beasts. Fight for humanity.

The revolution was supposed to end the century-long reign of tyranny over North America and bring about a better world. But Flynn, once heralded as a hero, is on the run again from a new enemy who holds the entire nation in his thrall.

Haunted by past mistakes and an unimaginable betrayal, Flynn is determined to set things right, whatever it takes. Meanwhile, the powers of the Underworld continue to threaten—dark magic, curses, supernatural beasts that even champion monster slayer Aurelia, a.k.a. "the Firedragon," has never encountered before.

Both hunted and protected for an ability he only recently discovered, one whose consequences he's still struggling to understand, Flynn sets out on a journey that takes him deep into enemy territory. His efforts lead to an uneasy alliance with former adversaries and reveal surprising secrets about both friends and foes. With the most powerful being in the world bearing down on him, Flynn soon realizes a terrifying truth.

Nothing is as it seems, and the fallout is only beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crazy 8 Press
• Release date: Aug 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201979393

Book preview

Chapter 1

A Thickening Darkness

Once, F lynn had hated being a nobody. He’d dreaded being trapped in the meaningless life of drudgery the Triumvirate had assigned to him, for the crime of being born a non-magical Norm in a world ruled by Enchanters, and one without the physical combat talent that could have elevated him to Defender status. Back then, he’d yearned to do something more, to matter, to change the world, even.

Well, he’d changed it all right.

Wham.

Flynn slammed a stick into the side a thick wooden post in the basement of the humble house he’d been hiding in for the past two weeks, one of many in the small farming community of Ember that harbored the fugitive Defiants. The dim, junk-littered space was among the few places he’d seen since Tydeus Storm, the Defiants’ leader, had brought him here, bleeding and unconscious, after the battle at the Triumvirate’s Capital. It was too dangerous to leave the enchanted perimeter of the small town, with monsters stalking the wilderness beyond. Not that Flynn had anywhere to go.

With nothing else to do, he’d spent much of his time training, recalling the weapons skills Aurelia had once taught him. Aurelia, the Firedragon, the former champion monster slayer. Aurelia, the rebel fighter, the friend who’d once taught him everything he knew about combat. Aurelia, who’d tried to stop him from making a mistake that could destroy the world, who he’d failed to listen to, and who hadn’t spoken to him since.

Wham.

The force of the impact rippled up Flynn’s arms. The one that had been torn by a giant scorpion-like monster, which had been guarding the gate of the Portal to the Underworld to prevent him from closing it, still ached under his sleeve. But at least he could use it again. The same went for his ankle, which a bloodwolf had apparently chomped down on as he’d pushed the heavy stone gate back into place, cutting off the Lord of the Underworld from the source of his powers.

It hadn’t been enough, though. Thanks to Flynn, the Lord of the Underworld, masquerading as the revolutionary leader Frank Calhoun, had taken power over the entire country, now dubbed the New Nation of North America. Soon, he would use that power to come after Flynn.

Because Flynn, the Untouchable One, the only person in the world that magic couldn’t affect, was what Calhoun needed to reopen the Portal. For that same reason, he was the lone being who could kill the Lord, a creature of dark magic. Which was why Storm and the Defiants were so keen to protect him.

It was quite a thing, to be so useful to others, yet feel so useless on his own.

Wham.

The stick splintered as it struck the post, and it hadn’t been a small one. Must’ve really hit hard. Flynn’s labored breaths and damp forehead agreed, while his weary muscles begged him to sit down and take a break. But the heat in his blood, the thundering of his pulse, the incessant, agitated energy at his core, urged him to do something, anything, to release it.

He threw the broken stick down, twisted, and kicked his heel into the post.

It cracked.

Exhaustion won, and he collapsed onto his knees, panting.

After everything that had happened, he would’ve given almost anything to go back to being a nobody.

Flynn? A tentative voice wafted toward him.

He looked up to see Kylie standing at the top of the old wooden staircase with an uncertain expression in her dark brown eyes. Her long blond hair framed her olive-complexioned cheeks and spilled over the shoulders of her plain gray sweatshirt.

He drew a deep breath. Whatever firestorm was brewing within him, he couldn’t let it escape around Kylie. She was the only friend he had left, the sole person who seemed to truly understand and forgive what he’d done. After all, she’d been fighting by his side on behalf of Calhoun—or the Lord—in the Rising’s efforts to take down the Triumvirate and install Calhoun as the nation’s leader. Like him, she’d believed she was battling for justice and a better future. She might still have been a Riser if their former schoolmate Connor Salvator, who’d been with the Defiants trying to stop Calhoun, hadn’t recognized her and yanked her out of the fray.

He stood. Yeah?

Storm asked me to get you. Kylie walked down the stairs. He called a meeting of all the Defiants, including the ones who were living undercover among the populace.

The Risers are finally moving on Ember, aren’t they?

That’s what they’re saying.

Flynn nodded grimly. Calhoun and the Risers had known the whole time where the Defiants’ stronghold lay, and that Storm was likely harboring Flynn there. Storm had known as well. But he’d needed time to formulate a plan. Not a lot of places would have welcomed the Defiants, who’d been labeled dangerous anarchists by the Triumvirate and were believed by many to be dark magic practitioners who sought only to create chaos. And Calhoun had needed time to solidify his hold on power.

Now, it seemed, the brief detente was coming to an end.

Good. I could use some action. Though what kind, Flynn wasn’t sure. He’d vowed to fix what he’d broken, to change the world for a second time by ridding it of the monster he’d put in power. And that was no exaggeration. Without Flynn opening the Portal, Calhoun would never have regained his supernatural abilities as the Lord of the Underworld, and though his dark magic was diminished compared to what it had been before the Triumvirs had imprisoned him in human form a century before, they were still formidable. It was probably because of them that following the capture of the Palace of Concord, the Triumvirs’ seat of power, he’d so quickly spread his influence across the nation.

How many of the Risers’ actions were because of his magic’s influence over their minds, and how many were the earnest efforts of revolutionaries seeking to rebuild a nation? Flynn had no way of knowing.

He approached Kylie. Storm must have a plan. Let’s go see what it is.

Kylie gave him a sympathetic look. How are you doing?

Physically? Fine. Just a little achy. Everything else? It’s a damn mess. But you already knew that. How’re you?

About the same. I think the same is true for everyone here.

Yet we keep going.

She smiled. What choice do we have? Time only flows in one direction.

And getting stuck in the past won’t help anyone. The two of them had had many conversations like these lately.

Flynn followed Kylie up the stairs, determined to leave his roiling thoughts behind with the stick he’d shattered.

There was a good reason why the public feared Storm was a dark magic practitioner: because he used dark magic. According to him, it was merely a source of energy without any moral alignments, rather like electricity. Also like electricity, it could be deadly if not handled with care.

Though Flynn now knew that Storm had never been the evil murderer he’d feared—and had in fact been close friends with his late parents—he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of discomfort each time the man brought out his black, rune-covered wand, which served as a visible manifestation of the kind of power he wielded.

Standing in the middle of Ember’s town square, a roughly paved area surrounded by low buildings, Storm pointed his wand at his throat to cast a spell that would amplify his voice.

Everyone, listen. His low, resonant voice sent a hush over the crowd of Defiants.

Standing toward the back beside Kylie, Flynn swept his gaze across those who had gathered. Many he recognized from having been in Ember for two weeks. Just as many were strangers to him. They must have been the ones who’d been living double lives, pretending to be ordinary civilians while secretly supporting a rebel group. Looks like about a hundred of us total… That’s not a lot, is it?

It was hardly surprising, after what Flynn had learned. Whereas Calhoun had spent two decades slowly building up the Rising, using his followers to quietly spread ideas across the nation while saving the action for a few important missions, Storm had been far bolder and more direct. He’d also been more infamous: a former Sentinel of the Triumvirate, one of an elite group of Enchanters meant to safeguard the nation, who was said to have gone mad and become an anarchist. Tough for one with such a reputation to recruit. Hell, I believed the Triumvirate when they said he murdered my mom.

In truth, Storm had been trying to save Vivian Nightsider from the Triumvirate, who’d pegged her as a rebel and killed her in the street, then blamed Storm because it made for a better story.

Flynn wasn’t sorry that the Triumvirate had been toppled, and its three rulers now sat in the same dungeons in which they’d imprisoned so many—including Brax, who’d been like a brother to Flynn, and who’d been locked up for months, under threat of execution, over an accident that Flynn had been the cause of. But the Lord of the Underworld had taken the Triumvirs’ place. I used to think anything had to be better than the Triumvirate. Joke’s on me.

Thank you for coming. Storm’s dark eyes scanned the crowd. The late afternoon sun highlighted the angles of his powerful, ebony-complexioned face and gleamed off his shaved head. I have discussed our next plan of action with a few of you—he nodded at Leto Sayare, a light-skinned woman with short dark brown hair who was his second-in-command—but for most, this will be your first time hearing of it, so do not hesitate to ask any questions.

I have one! came a sharp, high-pitched voice.

Recognizing it as Aurelia’s, Flynn whirled to find her standing several feet away, her thick black ponytail, streaked with red and gold highlights, barely visible through the others. Though he couldn’t see her face, he could tell by her tone that she had to be scowling.

What’s taken so long? she demanded. Why have we been sitting on our butts for two weeks?

Storm narrowed his eyes at her, but the expression was more exasperation than annoyance. We needed time to recover after the battle at the Capital, and to explore our options. I had hoped to find an alternate base, since the Risers are aware of Ember. Unfortunately, I have not been successful. The plan is for us to depart in small groups, and in different directions, so our enemies will be unable to round us all up.

Mutterings and exclamations rippled through the crowd. Flynn crossed his arms. He’d been expecting something more than run away from a man with the power to control the undead.

I am not finished. Storm’s amplified voice carried over the cacophony, and the others fell silent. Calhoun’s primary objective is to capture Flynn Nightsider. Of course, he has publicly claimed that I murdered Flynn in an attempt to stop the Rising and foster anarchy. His tone took a derisive turn. He will use this as an excuse to send the Risers into Ember and capture us all, no doubt hoping to seize Nightsider in the process. We cannot allow that to happen.

Flynn shifted his weight, keenly aware of all the side glances he was getting. He hated that he was being spoken of as some kind of treasure to be guarded. Worse, that was how most regarded him. Sometimes, he wondered if he was any more of a person to the Defiants than he’d been to the Triumvirate, or Calhoun.

We will not be scattering at random, Storm went on. I will assign specific teams, and each team will have at least one Enchanter among you. Calhoun will focus his attention on finding Nightsider. As the Untouchable One, he cannot be disguised with magic. Therefore, each team will have one member enchanted to look like Flynn to divert him from the real one.

Decoys! Aurelia exclaimed. I like it.

Good for you, because I hate it. Logically, Flynn knew Storm’s proposal was the best option for keeping the Untouchable One away from the Lord of the Underworld. Because that was all this plan was about. And until Flynn could come up with a better one, he had no options other than to go along. But he still didn’t like that everyone else would have to put themselves at risk for his sake.

Storm glanced at Aurelia and raised his brows. I’m glad to hear that, because Nightsider will not be the only one with a decoy. You, Firedragon, are a known associate of his. As is Varela. He turned and nodded at Kylie, who looked startled. Calhoun knows how important the two of you are to the boy and, in the absence of his primary target, will seek you in hopes of using you to lure Nightsider into a trap.

Aurelia barked out a sarcastic laugh while Kylie glanced away with a slight blush.

Flynn wished he could melt into the ground beneath him and disappear between the cracks of the pavement. But Storm wasn’t wrong. If anything happened to his friends—even the one who wasn’t speaking to him—he would stop at nothing to save them.

Guilt crept up his chest. That’s what I said about Brax, too. Flynn hadn’t known about Brax’s imprisonment—Calhoun had led him to believe Brax had been released. But now, Calhoun was treating Brax like a prop in his circus, dangling him at public appearances as if daring Flynn to come out of hiding and seek his friend. At least that meant Brax was physically safe. Calhoun was using Brax, a Norm orphan relegated to a second-class life, as part of his propaganda to show off the equality now available under the New Nation. Instead of being forced to work for the Academy of Supernatural Defense in exchange for a basic education, Brax was now attending as a Cadet, a level once reserved for the children of Defenders.

I am also a target, of course. Storm pressed a hand to his chest. Given Nightsider’s importance, I intend to keep close, on my team. If I am found, he will be too. That is why I will have decoys as well. Our latest intelligence indicates that the Risers intend to strike sooner than expected, so once teams are assigned, the Enchanters among you will immediately cast the necessary spells to create these decoys, and then you will gather what you must and head out. Where you go is up to you—the more unpredictable, the better. We will communicate through friendly specters, who can appear instantly when summoned. Many of you are already familiar with this and know whose spirits to call upon. Those of you who are not, please ask the others.

‘Friendly specters’? Kylie turned to Flynn with a doubtful expression. Every time I’ve encountered one, it only wanted to kill the living.

Flynn thought for a moment. Storm had the help of a specter the day he broke into the Academy. And there was this graveyard Aurelia and I crossed as part of a Riser mission… we encountered the specter of a little kid who just wanted to be put to rest… A shiver frosted his skin as he remembered that encounter. Specters, spirits of the dead who for whatever reason couldn’t move on, would rise in class, becoming more and more monstrous, until they lost their souls entirely and became wraiths, unless someone used a powerful spell to send them on to the Netherworld. He didn’t often think about things like that, but neither could he shake the memory of the harmless child specter.

Storm tapped his wand against his palm. I have done my best to ensure that each team is evenly distributed in terms of combat skills, whether magical or non-magical. They will be as follows. He pointed at Flynn. Nightsider. Varela. He shifted his finger to Aurelia. Firedragon. The four of us with decoys. We will stay together. The other teams, to the outside world, will appear identical.

What about Connor? Aurelia’s voice burst out, and her ponytail bounced as she jittered.

Connor, who stood beside Aurelia, placed a hand on her shoulder. He had been close friends with her back at the Academy of Supernatural Defense and had been the one to tell her the truth about Calhoun, bringing her into the Defiants. Don’t worry about me, Aurie.

Young Salvator will be with Sayare. Storm gestured at his second-in-command. As well as Bea Lee Bent and Hugo Morales. He gestured at an older woman, who was holding a wand, and a black-haired man, who Flynn recalled was a Norm.

But— Aurelia began.

Firedragon. Storm gave her a stern look. You are our best combatant. I need your help to protect Nightsider. Meanwhile, Salvator is among our more skilled Enchanters, and Sayare’s team needs someone of his level.

Flynn didn’t hear Aurelia’s response, as she spoke in a low grumble, but it must have been along the lines of, Fine. Whatever.

Storm continued with the assignments, naming an Enchanter named Elijah Ward as the leader of the next team. Flynn recognized him as a Defiant he’d knocked out when he’d been in Ember on a mission for the Rising. A wry smile twisted his lips. How things have changed.

Kylie started making her way through the crowd.

Where are you going? Flynn asked.

To talk to Aurelia. Kylie glanced over her shoulder. She’s going to be traveling, fighting, and hiding with us. We should… make peace or something.

Flynn knew Aurelia would do her job to protect the team even if she still hated his guts and, to a lesser extent, Kylie’s. He also knew she would have nothing to say to Kylie… or to him. But letting Kylie face her temper alone didn’t seem right, so he followed.

Aurelia was in the middle of talking to Connor, muttering softly so as not to interrupt Storm’s announcements but gesturing as animatedly as usual. Her dark, round eyes and small mouth moved energetically with each word. As usual, she wore a black tank top, long pants, and tough boots, as well as a pair of double swords strapped to her back. An excited flush colored her golden cheeks, as if her blood were already pounding for action.

Connor nodded along to whatever she was saying, and then held up his bright red wand.

Aurelia glanced at it. Finally finished building your new wand, huh?

Thought it was about time I had my own, instead still relying on my old student wand. Connor examined the long, thin stick and aimed it at himself. I can already feel my magic becoming more… attuned.

Took you long enough. Didn’t you start working on that thing back at the Academy?

It’s a complicated process, okay?

Flynn was momentarily distracted by the scarlet wand—it was so bright, it practically glowed. He recalled that each Enchanter’s wand settled into a color representing their primary characteristic. He also recalled that bright red stood for courage, which seemed apt, given what he knew about Connor, the Triumvir’s son who’d thrown away a life of privilege to become a spy for and then a member of the Defiants.

Kylie tentatively reached out to tap Aurelia’s shoulder. Hey— She broke off and stared.

Flynn’s eyes widened as, after a muttered spell, blinding white light surrounded Connor. Just as quickly, it vanished. Flynn hadn’t thought it possible for his eyes to widen any further, yet somehow they did.

In place of Connor’s auburn hair and fine-featured face were Flynn’s own sandy locks and prominent cheekbones. While Connor’s eyes were blue like Flynn’s, they were… prettier. Gone, now, were the long lashes and slightly angled shape—the only visible trait he shared with the half-Italian, half-Chinese father, former Gold Triumvir Adlai Salvator, who’d ordered his death during the battle at the Capital. Connor also possessed a slighter build than Flynn’s, and was maybe an inch shorter. Now, he resembled Flynn so precisely, he would have given a mirror an existential crisis.

Aurelia poked Connor’s arm, as if checking to see if he was solid and not a mirage. This is so weird.

You’re telling me, Flynn muttered.

She whirled to face him, and her expression hardened. Oh, hello, Untouchable One.

Flynn grimaced. She’d taken to calling him that lately, as if to emphasize that she was still mad at him and would only care about him as an asset. Hello, Aurelia.

But before he could say anything more, Storm’s amplified voice called out, "Everyone, get out!"

Flynn spun in confusion.

A great boom shattered the air, shaking his bones. In the distance, a plume of green, enchanted smoke curled toward the sky. He furrowed his brow, wondering what that meant.

The answer came in the form of several Risers appearing in flashes of yellow light, the Enchanters gripping the shoulders of their armed Norm colleagues, all of whom wore the blood-red insignia of the New Nation.

What more tantalizing existence was there than residing in the same palace as the gateway to one’s powers while unable to reach them? The Lord stared at the round stone gate carved with images of his creations, with three of his greatest, the fangbeasts, at the center. Beneath it lay the Portal to the Underworld. To have been so close to regaining all that had once been his yet denied it at his moment of triumph—the Lord’s wrath curled through his still-too-human body.

While he was no longer confined to the pathetic flesh-and-blood form that the three men who’d declared themselves Triumvirs imprisoned him in, neither was he the great being of dark magic that had escaped a century ago and, within a few years, come close to adding the earth to his realm.

But this setback would not last long. With his hold over the former Triumvirate—now New Nation—of North America secure, the Lord could now focus on obtaining the Untouchable One. He had no doubt his followers would catch up to young Nightsider and the ragtag rebels protecting him. His concern, however, lay in the boy’s brave foolishness—the very trait that had once allowed the Lord to manipulate Nightsider into opening the Portal in the first place. Now, it threatened to rob the Lord of his most needed tool. For if the Lord wasn’t careful, and didn’t control his followers well enough, Nightsider might easily die in some reckless attempt at heroism.

No deaths. Anyone who kills another, whatever the circumstances, will be charged as a murderer. That had been his order to the Risers. And it had been a strategic one indeed. Not only would it guarantee that Nightsider would survive, but it had once again proven to the people that Frank Calhoun was the just and generous leader they’d yearned for.

The more they believed, the stronger he grew.

Chapter 2

Friend and Foe

Bursts of white light exploded through the crowd of Defiants as the Enchanters waved their wands to cast appearance-altering spe lls. The next thi ng Flynn knew, he was surrounded by doppelgängers. Well, perhaps surrounded was a strong word—there were only half a dozen or so—but seeing multiples of oneself was disconcerting enough that it felt like multitudes.

Risers continued appearing in flashes of gold, and the combined effect of the magic made Flynn feel as if he were in the middle of a bursting firework. Seems our intel was a little off.

He searched for anything he could use as a weapon and wished he’d thought to carry a tranquilizer gun or something.

You have your orders. Storm’s amplified voice cut through the noise. "Now, go!"

Flynn glimpsed one of the Riser Enchanters aiming a wand at him. He ducked. The spell wouldn’t have hurt him, but its lack of impact would have revealed his identity as the Untouchable One.

The Enchanter aimed again, but Aurelia nailed the woman in the gut with a sidekick before she could cast her spell. The woman went flying into the ground.

Stay close to me, dummy! Aurelia held up her fists. She glanced at Kylie. You too.

Glimpsing a nearby Riser with a tranquilizer gun, Flynn lunged at the man and seized his outstretched wrist, twisting to stay out of the weapon’s line of fire, while throwing a swift backhand. The other stumbled, dazed. Flynn took advantage of the moment to peel the man’s grip off the trank, turn it on him, and knock him out.

He whirled in time to glimpse another Riser aiming at Sayare, whose back was turned, and fired a dart into the man’s shoulder.

Aurelia lifted her brows. I see you remember a few things I taught you.

Flynn couldn’t help but smile. That was the most words Aurelia had spoken to him in two weeks—and they’d been praise.

Spread out! A woman yelled over the din of shouts and curses, the hum of swirling spells and whizzing trank darts. Keep a close eye on the exit points!

Flynn recognized the voice. It’s Nossiter. The stern-faced older woman, who had brown skin and wore her hair in several long black braids, had been a leader within the Rising. It seemed she still held authority, only now she wore an official-looking black jacket that looked like a repurposed patrolman’s uniform instead of a plain but practical coat.

I’ll never get used to this, Aurelia murmured.

Flynn noticed her signature double swords remained in their sheaths, strapped to her back.

Apparently noticing his gaze, she twisted her mouth. These were our friends… and they still think they’re fighting for a better world. I’m not planning to decapitate them.

He nodded. He hadn’t even considered trying to get his hands on a lethal weapon. Despite getting caught up in a war, he’d so far managed to avoid killing anyone—except Calhoun, and that had been an accident. Not that his death had lasted very long when it was only the Lord’s fleshy container that had been destroyed.

He fired another trank, stepping in front of Kylie to keep her safe from the approaching Risers, while Aurelia launched a series of punches and kicks at two oncoming adversaries. Connor, wearing his Flynn disguise, aimed what looked like a trank at a Riser Enchanter. But the weapon emitted a stream of green light instead of the expected dart, and Flynn realized it was actually Connor’s wand, disguised with some hocus-pocus.

The crowd loosened up as the Defiants fled, breaking up into their teams and heading for their transports. Notably, none used goldlighting to escape. That would have been a dead giveaway that the Flynn in their group wasn’t the real one.

Sayare waved a hand in Connor’s direction, and he nodded.

I have to go, he said to Aurelia. You and your team should get out, too.

Aurelia’s taut expression said she was still unhappy about leaving her friend. Be careful.

Connor turned to leave but hesitated, as if he had something more to say.

No mushy stuff! Aurelia waved one hand. Shoo!

With an amused smile, Connor ran off toward Sayare, who vanished from sight. She reappeared a moment later, disguised as Aurelia.

Oof, I hate that. Aurelia’s eyes narrowed, and she flung herself in front of Flynn, seizing one of her swords in the process. She held it up before her, and a bright stream of blue magic struck it from the wand of an Enchanter who’d goldlighted onto the scene. Using the weapon as a shield, she marched up to the man, moving as he did to force the spell to remain on her blade. Once she was close enough, she kicked his legs out from under him and smashed the hilt of her sword into his head.

Flynn held up his trank, keeping an eye out for any threats. He fired at a woman who was starting to approach, but missed and had to fire again. He checked the weapon’s chamber. Only two darts left, and they hadn’t even made it out of the square.

He rushed up to the woman he’d knocked out, grabbed her weapon, and tossed it to Kylie. Here. I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s better than nothing.

Kylie gave a sheepish smile. Too bad the Risers don’t carry bows and arrows.

Flynn checked the unconscious woman’s belt and found two spare tranks attached to it. He tucked one into his waistband and kept the other in hand, figuring he’d use up the last two darts in his first weapon soon enough.

C’mon, slowpokes! Aurelia rushed toward one of the alleys leading away from the square, which was now virtually empty except for a handful of Risers skirmishing with a few lingering Defiants. We gotta get to the motorbikes!

Flynn started toward her then paused. Kylie was close behind, but that meant she was exposed from behind.

She stopped beside him. What’s wrong?

Go ahead of me. I’ll guard you.

I’ll be fine—

Hurry, before Aurelia coldcocks us and drags us to those motorbikes.

An incredulous smile split Kylie’s lips. She nodded and sprinted after Aurelia, and Flynn followed.

Aurelia threw a glance back at the two of them. Oh, sure, take your time. It’s not like we’re running for our lives or anything.

Technically, we aren’t, Flynn said.

What’re you talking about?

They’re all wielding tranquilizers, and I’ll bet the Enchanters are only using stun spells. Calhoun wants me alive, even though he told everyone I’m dead.

"Well, if he gets his hands on you, we’re all dead, so speed it up!"

Between the houses in which terrified Ember residents cowered and past barns full of agitated farm animals—Flynn was glad running had never been a problem for him. Kylie seemed to be holding her own as well. They had to pause to trank a few Risers who got too close, but all in all, it was as smooth a getaway as they could have asked for. Probably because the Risers were confused by all the decoys.

The lot where the motorbikes were stored lay within sight, just past the next few houses. But then Flynn heard something that made him stop in his tracks.

Aiza! Over here!

He whirled toward the voice. Brax? No, there are plenty of people with the last name Aiza—

Right behind you, though I think this plan is more full of crap than that barn we searched.

It was Brax. Flynn couldn’t have mistaken his friend’s voice—or his attitude.

He whirled in the direction of the sound but paused. Kylie was still running after Aurelia, who’d nearly reached the lot. They wouldn’t make their escape without him…

But he’d left Brax behind once, and his friend had ended up in a dungeon. He couldn’t do it again. Kylie would understand. She still considered herself Brax’s girlfriend, after all, even though she hadn’t seen him in months. As for Aurelia—well, maybe once he explained it, she’d understand too. She could more than take care of herself and Kylie for a few moments.

Flynn raced off. Brax! Brax, where are you?

Who the hell is calling me? Brax’s voice came from up ahead.

Flynn sprinted toward it and reached an intersection.

Brax stood just around the corner. He whirled toward Flynn, aiming a trank gun.

Whoa! Flynn stopped and held up his hands. Put that thing down—it’s me!

Brax stared with a look of disbelief. Flynn imagined his own expression must have been just as incredulous. That was his friend all right, yet it also felt like looking at a stranger. Gone was the perpetual twinkle that had once brightened Brax’s hazel eyes, the one that said his life was hell but he was going to have fun with it anyway. The ashen tint in his brown complexion spoke of having been confined in darkness, and the new hollows under his cheeks told a tale of starvation. His thick black hair,