The scream was followed by a high-pitched squeal and then a laugh.

“Come on, Lara and just do it already!” Alara turned to see the boy behind her, his brown curls falling into his face, brushing his forehead. His skin was a deep brown, freckles black against it, and his eyes a sharp blue. The corners of his lips were creased from his constant smiles.

Alara felt herself turn and flick the coin, knowing what was going to happen next. She saw it hit the lip of the frog and heard the small splash as it fell into the fountain pool.

“I knew you couldn’t do it. My turn!” Ro was pushing her out of the way now. She felt her foot shoot out, almost against her will, and the boy went tumbling down in front of her.

Alara winced as she felt the bite of stone against her knees as she jumped the boy and wrestled his coin from his hand. She felt the sting as if it were happening to her, even though a part of her recognized it wasn’t. She wasn’t bleeding. Not at least on her knees.

The second coin hit its mark, landing with a soft clink in the open mouth of the frog. The water that sprayed from its mouth faltered, finding a fresh path around the coin.

“Ha!” She elbowed the boy and pointed to where the coin had landed in the frog’s mouth. “That’s a point for me!”

“That was my coin! My point!”

“Oh, please. It doesn’t work that way.”

And then Dela was speaking behind her, voice high and soft. “Lara won fair and square, Ro. Don’t blame her because you’re a loser.”

Alara urged herself to look back, to look at her friend Dela’s face, a face she had forgotten years ago. But her past self didn’t listen. And then they were laughing and Alara felt the dread creeping up her back and into her mind. A knowledge of something to come—of something she didn’t want to happen. Didn’t want to relive.

The arrow made no sound as it passed through the air and into Ro’s chest. His smile didn’t even leave his face as his hand came up to feel the shaft protruding from his body. And then he crumpled, blood leaking onto the cobblestones and near Alara’s bare feet.

Alara watched in fascination, the world seeming to stop, as the blood nudged at her big toe. She had relived this memory over and over her entire life. But something felt different. She looked down at the still body of her friend and noticed the fletching of the arrow. They were black feathers. The color of the councilguard.

Then Alara was running, and Dela’s hand was clenched in her own. An awareness hit her hard. The councilguards were here. The two kids were in trouble. The awareness of the young Alara warred with the confusion of older Alara. The councilguard meant safety.

The councilguard meant death. “Never show the Council or mages what you can do,” her mama’s voice whispered in her mind. “Stay silent. Stay hidden. Stay safe.”

And then Mama’s voice was loud and coming from ahead of her.

“Faster, Alara!” Mama’s voice was hoarse and eyes wild as she ushered Alara and Dela through the door.

A distant piece of Alara expected to head toward the cellar where Dela was being ushered down with the others. She wasn’t even sure why, but then Mama was kneeling in front of her, a dagger in her hand.

The same distant piece of Alara recognized the dagger—the one she was now in her left hand, its hilt hot under her palm. The other Alara knew the dagger, too.

“Go, hide the dagger and run. Don’t look back, no matter what!”

Alara nodded and grasped the dagger. The blade was sharp under her grip and she wrapped it in a piece of cloth before jumping out the back door of the house and running. Her lungs burned and her knees and legs ached, but she bound through the trees as silently as she could. Jumping over roots, grabbing on to low-lying branches to swing over shrubs.

She had trained for this. She had spent hours in the forest learning to move like a spider monkey. Silent and sure. Trying to see if she could sneak up on Mama or Papa when they were out fishing.

The sounds of screaming and the breaking of wood were muffled as she passed deeper into the woods. She came across a large rock wall, her eyes passing over the loose boulders before picking the crevice she wanted. She felt her hand scrape along the rock as she tucked the dagger into it, biting her lip as a thin layer of skin was taken off. She pulled her hand back and looked back at the crevice. She smiled. The dagger didn’t show, and the crevice was barely visible, and from where she stood, it appeared as nothing more than a small lip in the stone.

Satisfied, Alara looked back toward the village and the muffled sounds of war. She knew what Mama wanted. She wanted her to run, hide, even go to the Arborelis if she could make it. But Alara had never been good at listening.

She looked back at the wall one more time, searching for any sign of the crevice or the blade hidden there. When she was sure there was none, she darted back toward home, just as silent as she had been before.

She slowed as she got closer to the village. The screams of the villagers and calls of councilguards rang out as they broke down doors. Alara hoped the chaos would drown out any sound she made as she snuck closer. Her family’s home was on the edge of town and she saw the guards were just making their way to it. She knew what they would find when they broke the door. An empty room.

She held her breath and watched from the tree line. She could just see into the windows as councilguards marched around the room. They knocked over tables, tore up furniture, and scoured the floors, all in search of something—the dagger.

Then there was a sharp cry of a child and Alara saw a shift in the councilguards’ movements. Their heads disappeared from the windows and more cries echoed in the air, making Alara’s heart pound. She recognized the shout of Mama and the roar of wind as she fought back.

All logical thought left Alara, and she sprinted toward her house. She didn’t bother going around to the door, but jumped through the opening of a window, screaming. Eyes swiveled to her in surprise and she saw Mama, half dragged out of the cellar, face pale, eyes looking at her with such deep sadness that Alara almost backed away and ran. Almost. But then she met the eye of the guard that held Mama’s arm, a dagger against her neck.

Alara dove toward him, pulling at the threads of every fire she could find in the village and bringing them to her. She jumped on him, grabbing the knife from his hand as he burst into fire. She pushed him away from Mama and turned on the other guards. She could feel the mages in the room pulling at their energy, readying themselves to fight. Even the blameless guards clenched their weapons and stared at the small child that tried to defy them.

Alara swallowed, her heart quickening in a sudden realization of what she was up against.

“Alara, help!” Mama shouted.

Alara felt the woman’s powers rise behind her. She threw out a fireball as Mama’s gale of wind hit her, and flames leapt at the gathered guards. They scattered, dodging the flames as best they could, but they fell down all the same as flames ate at their clothes.

She and Mama threw another gust of fire at the guards, pushing them back, trying to keep them away from the others still gathered in the hidden basement of the house.

And then a roar filled Alara’s head so loud she fell to her knees, pressing her hands against her ears. Through watering eyes, she saw the door of the house fly off its hinges and hurtle toward her. It soared over her hunched body, but she could almost feel the crash as it hit Mama behind her. She didn’t even cry out as she fell into the basement below.

Alara stood up on trembling legs and looked at the doorway as a woman she didn’t know walked through.

You know her, a voice whispered in her mind.

Her hair was darker than she remember, but her eyes were still the deep gray that Alara knew so well. They shone with a confidence and a surety that Alara had always admired. Emaru.

Heat danced through Alara’s blood as she looked at this woman. This woman who had hurt Mama, who had destroyed her home. Anger swelled, and she launched a shot of fire toward the woman, who didn’t even flinch as the flames dissipated around her.

Alara screamed this time as she threw herself and her magia toward the woman. A glimmer of a smile tugged at the corner of the woman’s mouth as Alara’s fire shot toward her. With the slight wave of her enemy’s hand, Alara’s magia was tugged from her control. It turned, the flames twisting in the room and back toward Alara.

Her hair caught fire, and she felt the flames biting at the skin of her neck and face. With a strangled cry, Alara fell to the ground, clutching her hands over the flames, putting them out as they danced across her skin. Then the fire was out and Alara was calm. But the screaming continued.

Alara turned herself back toward the basement, back toward her parents and her friends, and she saw the fire licking at the wood floor, dropping burning wood into the small pit below. She saw Dela scrambling up the stairs, trying to escape the fire. And Papa, dragging Mama toward the wood stairs, struggling under her weight as he dodged falling pieces of wood.

Before Alara could even think to help, before she could recover from the shock, she heard the roar of wind and Emaru was behind her, cold eyes glaring as the helpless villagers tried to escape. She waved her hand lazily and a scattering of arrows shot through the air and pierced the hearts of those in their way. Dela fell from the top step of the stairs and into the dust floor below with a thud. Five other children and adults fell where they had stood.

Eyes wide with horror, Alara saw her parents below still, Papa glaring up at Emaru unarmed and unprotected, but chin still held up in determination.

And Alara watched as Emaru waved her hand at the flames that danced around them and the fire roared up higher, engulfing her parents in white hot flames. Right before they disappeared behind the flames, Alara saw Papa’s warm eyes holding her own.

A screech flew from Alara’s throat, and her entire body shuddered. She snatched a spear from the ground and turned on the woman a few feet away. She swung the point of the spear and sliced down toward the woman’s heart. She moved at the last moment and the spear missed her chest, but it scraped along the woman’s face, splitting open her cheek. Alara felt a wave of satisfaction as red blood poured from the wound.

Her arms were suddenly wrenched behind her and she felt herself being lifted from the ground, like a small doll. The guard didn’t even struggle as he held her and placed a dagger across her neck.

The woman, blood dribbling down her cheek, made a sound.

“Don’t,” she spoke, stepping closer and looking at Alara in amusement. “This one has heart. Cleanse her memories, but keep her alive. We can use someone like her.”