The paper didn’t show the smell of ash, though. It didn’t show the crying children, the mothers with sunken eyes, or the fathers gripping reins with white-knuckled hands.
But we passed them. On the main roads, we saw the families who had been turned away. I saw their faces. Their fear. Their exhaustion.
And I felt it.
“They’re turning away children too,” Will muttered beside me.
“Yeah, and those kids are adorable,” Aran said. “We’re screwed.”
I had never seen the Wall before, but it wasn’t what I had imagined. It wasn’t like the drawing in the history books. It loomed ahead, massive, cold, unwelcoming. Once white, now stained and gray, the stone worn down with time. It stretched far in both directions, farther than I could see. The only way around it now was by boat. But anyone in Vestance whohada boat was probably already long gone. Or their boats were ashes on the shores.
I wondered how many people had made it across to Alevé. And how many had died trying.
Birds perched along the top of the Wall, and something in me ached. Maybe I could soar again. Lift off the ground like before. Drift above it all and cross to the other side. But I didn’t know how I’d done it the first time, and I had no idea how to do it again. Even if I could rise above that monstrous barrier, the guards would shoot me out of the sky before I ever made it across. And I couldn’t leave Will and Aran behind.
There had to be another way.
The guards were nothing more than smudges at first, distant shapes on the horizon. But the closer we got, the more they sharpened. Men in black and gray. Helmets pulled low, rifles slung across their shoulders, standing in front of a wide wooden gate.
A family approached ahead of us. Their pace slowed as they neared the checkpoint. The father stepped forward, shoulders tense, papers clutched in his hands. His voice carried across the road, he wasbegging the guards to listen. Said they had family waiting. That they belonged on the other side. Said they had every right to go home.
I watched the poor man plead.
One of the guards raised a hand, not in warning or threat, but to dismiss him. A lazy wave, like brushing off a gnat.
I turned from him before he hit the ground. I’d seen enough empty villages to know how that story ended.
“We have to find another way,” I murmured.
Aran glanced at me. “But… couldn’t you just do that thing?” he asked. “With the fire?”
“There’s too many of them,” Will said under his breath. “And they’re armed.”
“I don’t think I can—” I started.
Aran cut in, sharp. “So that’s a no? You won’t even try?”
“They’re innocent,” I said, breath catching. “They’re just following orders.”
Aran scoffed, sharp and bitter. “So were the Vultures.”
I flinched.
If he knew... If hereallyknew, he wouldn’t have said that. I opened my mouth, but closed it again. I wanted to yell, wanted to tear the words out of my chest and shove them in his face. But part of me didn’t want them to know. Not ever. Notthat.
“We’ll find another way,” I said again, louder.
Aran raised a hand to his forehead in a loose, mocking salute.
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.
I didn’t answer. Just stood there, staring at the Wall. Searching for cracks. For weakness. For a way through.
There had to be one. Because if there wasn’t—
I didn’t let myself finish the thought.
Then the wind changed.
