And then I realize where Nazeera is headed. Out. Out of the Sanctuary, into unprotected land where we could too easily be found, captured, and killed. I hesitate, old doubts asking me if I’m crazy to trust her— “Stealth, Kenji— Now—”
And she disappears. I take a deep breath and follow suit.
It’s not long before I understand.
Outside of the protection of the Sanctuary, the screams intensify, rising and multiplying in the darkness. Except that it’s not dark, not here. Not exactly. The sky is split, darkness and light melting together, clouds falling sideways, trees bending, flickering, bending and flickering. The earth beneath us has begun to pucker and crack, divots forming midair, puncturing nothing and everything. And then— The horizon moves.
Suddenly the sun is underneath us, searing and blinding and fracturing light like lightning as it skids along the grass.
Just as quickly, the horizon swings back into place.
The scene is beyond surreal.
I can’t process. Can’t digest. People are trying to run but can’t. They’re too overcome. Too confused. They make it only a few feet before something changes again, before they’re screaming again, before everyone is plunged into darkness, into light, into darkness, into light.
Nazeera materializes at my side. We’ve pulled back our invisibility. It seems obvious now that there’s no longer any point in stealth. Not here. Not in this.
And when Nazeera turns abruptly and starts running, I already know she’s heading back to camp.
We have to tell the others.
Except, as it turns out, they already know.
I see her before we’ve made it back. Right outside the entrance, backlit by chaos: Juliette.
She’s on her knees, her hands clamped around her temples. Her face is a picture of pure agony, and Warner is crouching beside her, pale and terrified, his hands on her shoulders, shouting something I can’t hear.
And then—
She screams.
Not again, I think. Please, God, not again.
But it’s different this time. This time, the scream is aimed inward; it’s an expression of pain, of horror, of travesty.
And this time, when she screams, she says a single, unmistakable sentence: “Emmaline,” she screams. “Please don’t do this—”
About the Author
Photo by Tana Gandhi
TAHEREH MAFI is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of A Very Large Expanse of Sea, the Shatter Me series, Furthermore, and Whichwood. She can usually be found overcaffeinated and stuck in a book.
You can find her online just about anywhere @TaherehMafi or at www.taherehbooks.com.
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