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“Except for now.” I return my attention to Keita as he continues, those golden eyes shimmering in the low light. “Britta is right: We will overcome this, Deka. We will make our way out. And then you will end the gods. Of that, I have no doubt.”
There’s so much certainty in his eyes, my heart pounds. I’d forgotten that Keita could be like this—so firm in his convictions, he leaves no room for doubt. “My thanks,” I reply.
But Keita shakes his head, the simple movement layered with a thousand meanings. “I’m always here for you, Deka. Always,” he says.
Just like that, he’s gone—riding to the front of the group, where Li and Belcalis are back to bickering again, as is their habit.
Ixa and I watch him go, Ixa considering, me trying to hold back the tears now stinging at the corners of my eyes.
Keita love Deka, my shape-shifting companion observes, glancing at me. Friends all love too.
They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t, I reply, thinking of how much my friends have sacrificed just to be with me. Safety. Family. The love—however conditional—of goddesses.
But I can’t dwell on that, can’t dwell on how much they’ve sacrificed—especially not now, with that thrumming growing ever louder.
I sigh. I love them too…almost as much as I love you. I pinch Ixa’s scaly blue ears, attempting some small amount of levity, even in this dire situation.
I can almost feel him smiling—well, giving me the Ixa version of a smile, when he wriggles in pleasure. Don’t die, Deka, he says simply.
I’ll try not to, Ixa, I reply, and then we continue on, the thrumming rising ever more menacingly in the distance.
4
As it turns out, our new surroundings are even more desolate than I anticipated, those red dunes spreading out for leagues in every direction, the midnight sky pressing ominously down from above. The only things that break the monotony are the equus skeletons and the mountains jutting in the distance. Those mountains are not like any I’ve ever seen before. They’re made of black stone, and each one curves so drastically, it resembles a crescent moon rising out of the sand. Wing flaps sound near them, the frantic flitter of thousands of tiny creatures moving in concert. I haven’t yet seen any sign of them, but I know they’re somewhere nearby and they must be at least partly responsible for some of the skeletons we’ve seen protruding from the dunes.
While most of the skeletons are halfway eaten, bones and all, many more remain whole except for missing strips of flesh.
It’s those skeletons that worry me when I hear the wing flaps.
Whatever those flying creatures are, it’s only a matter of time before they make their way to us. We have to find a path out before that happens, only I have no idea where to look.
How precisely do we get out of this place?
As I survey our surroundings, tense, Britta does the same, her eyes squinted against the brightness of the stars. “There has to be an escape route,” she mutters. “I mean, who would create a trap without one?”
“Literally everyone,” Li replies dryly. “That is the meaning of the word trap.”
“Speaking of which,” Belcalis interjects, glancing at me, “any idea yet which group of gods is responsible for this abomination of a place?”
I shake my head. “Not the faintest.”
I used to be able to distinguish which god made which creations, but that was before my body started breaking down, before any use of power led to such excruciating pain, I’d scream just thinking about it.
Britta’s gaze wanders back to the sands. “There has to be a way out. There has to be.”
“I’m with you there, heart of my hearts,” Li agrees, using one of his annoying endearments for Britta. “I refuse to lose hope. We’ll find our way out; we have to.” On cue, he squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.
When she leans into it, smiling up at him, envy twinges through me. Keita and I used to be like that, always touching.
I force away the depressing thought. “I agree with you two as well,” I say. “There has to be a way out. There’s always a weak spot somewhere. We just have to find it.”
“And fast.” Keita’s voice is low as he rides beside me, so I glance at him, immediately alert.
“What is it?”
“The light is fading,” Lamin answers from the other side of me, his silhouette dark against the rapidly deepening twilight. “Has been ever since we got here.”
Alarm trickles down my spine. It’s been so bright here all this while, I forgot that it was the middle of the night. “But the stars—”
