The light streaming in through the window slats of the armored carriage is dim and gray. There's little enough of it down here just above the flooded forest floor, and a shroud of heavy mist filters it even further. Still, it leaves diamond-patterns of faint illumination across my hands where they lay on my Akhana's back. Nestled in my lap, the little silver roe—whom I've decided to name Puka-squirms, restless and itching to get back out again.

Outside, the platform is a chaotic jumble of carriages, wagons, Flower Maidens on their Urabeasts, and armored Hunters Guards both mounted and on foot. Out of sight in the crowd, my aunts and uncles and their assistants shout orders while winged Akhanas swoop overhead, sharing their sight with those surveying the convoy's assembly. Everyone's voices jumble with the birdsong, and the damp air is heavy with the scents of flowers, salt and mud.

For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if everything was as it should be. I'd be on my way to Grailhold with everyone else—but to spectate and celebrate, not participate. When it was done I'd leave with the Solrathi delegates, to go south and join the single most historic dig to occur in over a hundred years. I'd be filled with anticipation rather than dread. I'd have nothing to worry about, and everything to look forward to.

Just as we're finally beginning to move, the carriage jolting as we turn off the platform and onto the uneven road, Kai's voice breaks through my bittersweet daydream.

Kaidin. The one bright spot in the bleak future laid out before me. Perhaps my dream of ending up in Khejia together isn't so dead, after all.

"Aren't you at least honored that you were chosen?"

I shrug. "It's easy to be noteworthy when the people doing the noting are your parents and aunts and uncles." I want to say more, but I resist. I'm suddenly grateful to have extra luggage sharing the space with us rather than more passengers. Anyone but Kai would probably have scolded me for saying that last bit.

"Ah, yes, Firstborn forbid you be proud of yourself for a half a heartbeat." I can hear the smirk in Kai's voice without even looking at him.

"That's not the point!" I snap. The reality of everything is taking hold. I can feel the weight of it like it's some massive, stifling creature—crammed into this stuffy metal box with us. "Do you have any idea how hard I worked, to be good enough for the apprenticeship, but not so good at anything that I'd be named Heir? Do you know how excited I was for that dig? A Sentinel, Kai! There'll never be another opportunity like this again. Not for me."

"I know, Nik, and I'm sorry" he sighs. "I get it. I do. But it's best to try not to dwell on that now. It's time to look ahead."

"Easy for you to say," I snort, leaning back into the worn cushions. "You've been expecting this for years. You wanted it."

I stare out the window for a few moments, watching jumbles of low watertrees pass, paled by mist.

"It's alright," I say after a while. "I have a plan."

"Oh?" Kai's other eyebrow goes up to meet the first. "And what is that?"

"Well, ah," I fumble. Maybe plan isn't quite the right word for it. "I'm going to tell them that I don't want to be an Heir. That I'd be a terrible leader, and to please choose someone else."

Kaidin just stares at me. I hurry on. "And if that doesn't work, I'll do poorly in the Revelries. At the very least, I'll be made a Rhavani and not a Rhaj. At the most, they'll realize their mistake and give my place to someone who deserves it."

My khejcousin shakes his head as he laughs. "I love you, Nik, and I wish you the best with that," he says. "I stashed some eel pie and kavfe from breakfast, want some?"

~*~

The sky goes violet as the sun dips closer to the horizon, but we have a long way yet to go. Up and down the caravan, lanterns are lit—their emberstones streaming fragrant smoke as they come to life.

Their glow frames my reflection as it blinks back at me from the water's surface, unphased by the pale pink shark drifting beneath it. For a moment I could swear there are little tendrils trailing from its tail, blue and translucent like those of a jellyfish. But then the wind picks up and the light spray of rain condenses into heavy droplets, obscuring my view as the shark glides away. Palm fronds batter softly against one another where they cling to the edges of the raised earthen road to either side of me. Puka scampers along ahead, delighted to be free to roam.

With our caravan slowed to a crawl as we cross the single narrow road through the Goldgraves, it's the perfect time to get out and stretch our legs. It's also a good opportunity for me to practice my veil-maintenance. They say the first day's the hardest, and that it gets exponentially easier after that. Thankfully, they were right.

I stop once more to watch as a school of sapphire eels streams by. The waters here are clear and uncluttered, a little higher than waist-deep at the most. But they go on and on as far as I can see, broken occasionally by tapered upthrusts of yellowish stone. The watertrees and Ancients are long since left behind us.

A flash catches my eye, and I turn just in time to glimpse three green stars streaking across the sky, bright enough to pierce the cloud cover and angled sharply downward. Maybe it's in my head—they're not that close—but I could swear I feel it the moment they make impact. A reverberating, muffled boom confirms it.

Everyone erupts in talk a heartbeat later.

"Those came down in our path. Didn't they?"

"They did. They definitely did. How far apart from each other, do you think?" Their voices blur together as my focus shifts.

Mirefall. Directly in our path. My blood runs hot, then cold. A few days ago, I'd be ecstatic. But now, after what I've seen, I get queasy at the thought. The fact that the dread mixes with my fascination, rather than replacing it entirely, only makes me feel more sick with myself. I get moving again, and gradually the chatter subsides.

A sudden trill breaks through my walking trance, a Hunter-Guard's signal. Hunters in other positions respond. Wings beat the air as akhanas take flight.

Something's wrong.