Yohid’s time was running out.

Zara helplessly watched as the police dragged the boy’s beaten body out of the prison wagon. His face was heavily marked with black bruises and his left eye was swollen shut. He was like a walking corpse, wearing nothing but dirty black shorts. So small, so thin that his ribs were visible. Red slashes covered his legs, back, and chest; some were open infected wounds, oozing blood and pus. Zara looked away, wrapping her shawl tightly around herself. It was difficult to keep her tears in.

She couldn’t let this happen. She didn’t know how she could stop it, but what would she be if she just stood there letting this go on? No. It can’t. She didn’t care what any damn Sorcerer had to say about it, either.

The crowd began their hissing and shouting of slurs—wicked, demon, Ahnsal’s bastard, the hog’s shit. Yohid was shivering fiercely. The spot chosen for today’s ceremony was high up Mount Lilith. Five more miles on the trail would lead to the Holy Temple, Mother Lilith’s sacred burial site. It was a trail meant for faithful worshipers, popular during pilgrimage season in the late spring. Now it would also be a trail for executing children, apparently.

The evening sky was a mix of deep purple and orange, the air was colder than a frozen lake, and the fogs below the cliff were deceivingly thick enough to seem like one could walk across it. This was no place to be bare skinned. A gust of wind blew through Zara’s ear. She immediately adjusted her thick headscarf to shield it again.

Yohid had no strength in him to struggle against the hefty policeman, but he did kneel down out of desperation, crying and begging for the pulling to stop.

“It hurts,” he rasped. “My legs hurt.”

This spurred the crowd on even worse. More than half of the town that could handle the ridiculous cold was gathered here, circled around a vast ledge on the east side of the mountain. Around fifty guards surrounded them, half of them holding lit torches. The ledge overlooked a steep cliff, where Yohid’s destiny lay. Not everyone was going to get a good view of this. The shortest people resorted to shoving their way to the front, only to be reprimanded by the nearest guard there. If the situation didn’t settle soon, there was going to be a riot, which would result in a fate similar to Yohid’s— a harsh tumble beneath the fog.

The sun—a vivid, blazing red-orange—was sinking in the horizon of silhouetted peaks. Zara blinked, seeing black spots. Her ears were clogged. A view like this normally served enjoyment, but tonight, it filled her with terror.

Yohid’s beaten, malnourished figure sat at the center of the ledge.

“You should kill that ugly thing as slow as you can,” a man shouted. “Throwing him off isn’t enough for what he’s done. We should skin him!”

Zara prayed for a riot. She’d be the first to ensure that man would plummet.

Upon glancing over the cliff, Yohid shrieked. He was instantly slapped down by the officer. Zara winced when the others clapped.

“Watch closely,” Zahir said lowly. He stood directly behind her, and Zara swore she could feel his hateful glare. “And remember it, Zara. Some day it may be you, should you lose control of yourself again.”

As if she needed a reminder.

“Stop! Stop!” Yohid screamed. This time he fought back, scratching at the man with his nails. “Stop!”

“Shut up!” the officer bellowed, his fat palm smacking him down again.

Next to Zara, Rowan shifted uncomfortably. He’d been acting strange all day, as though he was making a conscious effort to not only physically avoid her—easy enough when their parents and Noina were around—but he hadn’t spoken a single word to her since their talk in her bedroom. Not even eye contact; he was trying to act like she didn’t exist, but her presence made him nervous.

Zara’s anxiety spiked for what felt like the hundredth time today. Something wasn’t right. Why was he doing this? What had she done for such an unusual reaction from him? She couldn’t bear the thought of being abandoned by what felt like the only family who gave a damn.

To Zara’s right stood Noina with Leyli next to her. Noina’s eyes gleamed like this was the best theater show she’d ever been to. Leyli, however, was solemn, save for the few twitches of her brow whenever Yohid screamed or was hit.

“Get on with it!” Noina yelled.

“You’ll have to wait,” the officer shouted back. Two more had joined him now: one was a younger man of good height and weight with neat brown hair; the other was older and stockier, his dark black hair combed back with too much oil, his poorly shaved face extenuating the roughness of his skin. His expression was as perpetually serious as the abusive fat ass clutching onto Yohid.

“Hey,” a silver-haired man from the crowd piped up, “shouldn’t he be in Rune Chains? What if he tries using magic?”

“No!” Yohid said.

Rune Chains—created from special elemental metals rumored to instantly quell magic once shackled on the targeted mage. Zara doubted anyone here had ever seen the power of Rune Chains working before their living eyes.

“He’s weak enough already,” the officer retorted, giving the boy a shake. “We can break his arm and he won’t do a thing. Plenty of beatings is a good way to weaken the spirit and ensure the boy cannot conjure up any spell.”

“Are you sure?” an middle-aged lady asked as the rest of townspeople quieted enough to listen.

“This information came to us directly from His Holiness—Dr. Uqzar himself,” the young officer replied.

Zara’s mouth dropped. The fucking witch doctor is here?! Dr. Uqzar was infamous, as his orders have had over a hundred mages knocking on death’s door. Now he was here.

Fuck!

The woman’s eyes rounded in astonished surprise. The town’s uproar rapidly increased again.

Zara whimpered, sinking into herself. It didn’t matter what she did now, if she kept her mouth shut, if she hung her head low, blending among the rabid shits of these people. Uqzar would sniff her out, as any witch doctor blessed with the Holy Touch would. It was a godly power one meticulously trained in since childhood in various temples across the country through meditations, chants, prayers, and acts of sacrifice.

A nervous chuckle escaped her throat. It didn’t matter if Zara hid herself under the fucking fogs below, even. Uqzar would find her. She was done for. Yohid was done for.

Zahir grabbed her shoulder. When she looked back at him, he was scowling.“Do not slouch, do not faint,” he growled under his breath. “Just stay quiet and watch.”

She was about to hurl at any moment. “Baba…I don’t feel well.”

He didn’t reply, his gaze was trained on Governor Izmil and the ten security men following him through the parted crowd. The man was old, but dignified. He wore a long gray, religious suit with slim trousers and a high turban.

“He’s here,” Zahir muttered.

Yohid’s piercing cries struck Zara’s ears. “Ammi! Ammi! Ammi!”

Following the final guard was a young woman: plain, petite, and feeble. She had Yohid’s dirty brown hair and his large, trusting eyes. They were bloodshot and soulless.

The woman looked a tired mess. She ignored her son when he attempted to go to her, only to be violently yanked back. The fat and stocky officers restrained both of his arms tight so he couldn’t make any sudden movements again.

She walked on, pulling her off-white cloak closer to herself, her jaw tight. She did not even blink in his direction.

Next to her was the real star of this whole nightmare: a distinguished old gentleman with a cane, though it didn’t seem like he really needed it to walk. He was half the height of the governor and bald, though the brilliant white beard running down to the middle of his chest made up for the lack of head hair. His pale skin was like a prune. His silver, knee-length top shirt was made of expensive silk, complete with matching pants. The material was thin, but the chill in the air was no bother to him.

He was ornamented with geometric jewels: bracelets, earrings, and necklaces—all in black. His steely eyes were underlined with black kohl, and the White Sun was painted on his forehead, the cracked rays scattering across his wrinkled forehead. His trailing black cape also had the White Sun stitched on the back of it. The sunset made it sparkle a yellowish hue.

Uqzar raised one open palm, and the town fell silent. They bowed their heads, a customary sign of respect. Zahir had to force Rowan and Zara to do the same, shoving their heads down for them.

“You foolish kids have failed to understand the significance of such a man,” he growled under his breath. “Do try to be more mindful of where you are.”

Uqzar looked satisfied by the sight. Zara glanced up, noticing his eyes lingering over her direction. Her heart pounded. The nausea grew worse.

He knows…doesn’t he?

His eyes glided over her and scanned the rest of townspeople. Confused and frightened, Zara kept her head down.

“You all may rise,” Uqzar’s voice boomed.

With the town now watching, Uqzar zeroed in on Yohid. The boy was reduced to a sobbing shell of himself.

Zara didn’t know what to think, as she was on the verge of another panic attack.

He had to have noticed me. He had to. It’s only a matter of time when…

It would be her turn on the precipice.

But…why didn’t he say anything?

She felt her father tense up behind her, his hand on her shoulder squeezing hard enough for it to hurt. Leyli and Noina observed with rapt attention.

“Don’t make any sudden movements, Zara,” Zahir whispered. “I do not believe he has seen you.”

Shaking, Zara affirmed with a quick nod.

The wind blew something on her cloak. She blinked back tears, and picked the thing off.

A single black feather.

Zara scanned the crowd. It didn’t take her long to find Revan’s looming figure among the group farther out on the trail directly across her. He was in the same black cloak from the previous night, polished and calm, not a hint of worry or fatigue lacing his expression at all.

Was he there all along?

He couldn’t have just popped out of thin air even if he could do so. Such a move would never escape Uqzar’s eye. Zara had to have been too consumed with turmoil to have noticed Revan there. But his presence was making her nerves worse.

Shit shit shit!

If Zara had known the execution would be performed by Uqzar and not the governor like she—and likely everyone else here, presumably—had assumed, she would have feigned such an illness that her father would have had no choice but to leave her home.

“What a fascinating surprise,” Noina whispered loud enough for Zara to hear. “To be in the presence of such a holy man…I’m lost for words.”

There were now two other mages in the vicinity, yet Uqzar hadn’t seemed to notice anyone else out of the ordinary besides Yohid. This did not match with the legends Zara had heard of this man.

Unless he is waiting…so we don’t run from him. He is trying to throw us off.

Uqzar held out a hand, and one of the Izmil’s guards handed him a big, black and gold medallion. A symbol of fiery wings was carved to the front of it, to fend off evil spirits left in the soul. This was Zara’s first time seeing such a medallion; it was commonly used in death rituals for especially rotten prisoners. She’d once read that these medallions were believed to mute dark enchantments as well. Uqzar placed it around the shivering boy’s head.

Yohid scrunched his nose. He whimpered for his mother once more before breaking into sobs again.

“Ch!” Noina made her disapproval clear enough for everyone around her and beyond to hear. “You should be sickened at yourself. Crying for your Ammi after the pain you’ve caused her. You disgusting, treacherous thing.”

Yohid snapped. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! I DIDN’T—”

“Oh shut up, filth,” a man snarled.

The rest of town joined in, throwing taunts of impending death.

Zara sought Revan again. This had to have been enough to change his mind. He had to do something—

But he just stood there like a statue, unbothered by it all. In fact, the commotion seemed to intrigue him, like this was all some stupid, fake stage performance.

“Silence.”

Uqzar never had to yell over the thousand voices on the cliff for his own echo to be heard, dominating enough to quiet the agitated people. The commanding deepness of his voice reverberated in Zara’s bones.

Revan met Zara’s eyes and smiled thinly.

Am I missing something? He seems fine, like there’s nothing wrong. Is there any reason to panic then?

“Young boy,” Uqzar began. Yohid trembled, but didn’t respond. “It is a shame. A young life like yours, wasted from devilish impulses.”

“I’m not a devil,” Yohid choked out.

“It’s what all the devils say before I send them back to Hell.”

Yohid let out a shaky breath when Uqzar demanded for a torch.

No…they’re going to… Zara’s foot inched forward.

Then, something in the boy suddenly shifted.

He ceased trembling. His anguish resolved. His good eye locked onto Uqzar, watching as the guard handed him his torch.

“You are,” Yohid said.

Uqzar stopped moving. Low murmurs surrounded the cliff. This was the first time since he’d arrived that Zara had seen the witch doctor be taken by surprise.

But it didn’t last long.

“Did you have something more to say to me, boy?” Uqzar spoke in a dangerous calm.

Alarmed, Zara looked back at Revan to check if this was his doing, but he seemed just as interested by the development as she was.

He’s not doing this. He’s not manipulating anything. Yohid…what are you doing?

Yohid did not look away. It was like the eight-year-old had aged twenty years in two seconds when he realized that no one here was going to help him. His mother, the young spineless hag she was, wouldn’t even look at him. She was crying quietly, surrounded by women holding her, because she was the biggest victim in all of this.

“I’m not a devil,” Yohid said again, louder this time. “You are.”

Uqzar’s face morphed into something that was almost as monstrous as the cold front he’d been putting out. He hissed and thrust the torch back into the guard’s hand.

Yohid giggled. He giggled and giggled, until he doubled over in manic laughter.

“Oh Mother help us all!” Noina shrieked. “That little freak’s gone mad! He’ll curse us like he cursed his baby sister to death! DO something before he kills us all!”

Yohid shrieked with laughter and grief. “Curse?! You’re all gonna die WORSE than that!”

The officers holding Yohid quickly moved toward the end of the ledge, prepared to throw him off.

“Stop this!” the governor yelled. “What are you doing?! You’re not authorized to kill him yet! Guards, stop them!”

Three of the guards who were not holding torches hurried over to bring Yohid back to the center. The officers were refusing. Their heated argument went unheard among the town’s rioting shouts.

Uqzar stared at the chaotic display before him like his mind had gone numb.

Zara couldn’t handle this anymore. She couldn’t handle listening to the pitiful cries of Yohid’s mother, screeching profanities, Yohid’s vengeful insanity, or being in this fucking mountain any longer.

She ripped away from her father’s grasp and screamed from the top of her lungs, “STOP!”

At last, the noises hushed.

The wind howled. Bits of snow flaked from the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was dark now. The fogs had grown thicker. The temperature dropped. The little light they had left came from the torches. The aura was nothing short of menacing.

She had, regrettably, captured the attention of the witch doctor. The intensity of his gaze marked the depth of her mistake.

Yohid had broken out of lunacy. The terror was back on his face.

“Zara,” she heard him whisper.

What am I doing?

“What is this?” Uqzar’s grumbled.

“Zara,” Zahir hissed. He sounded more fearful than furious. Zara did not turn his way. He made no physical attempt to retrieve her, either.

She looked to the ground, avoiding the eyes of everybody, including Yohid. She could feel Revan’s interrogating gaze on her, somehow. What should I do? She sought his guidance, but felt nothing.

Uqzar’s steps quietly approached. She flinched.

“Zara,” he said. “Is that what your name is?”

Zara couldn’t speak. She was petrified.

“Answer me.”

He received no response still, and then—

SMACK!

“Answer me!” he roared.

Zara’s cheek stung. Her soul crumbled. The group behind her stirred.

“Don’t, Leyli,” she heard Noina whispering.

“You!” Uqzar bellowed out to Zahir. “Is she yours?”

Unlike Zara, Zahir was privy to answer the man straight away, ashamed but firm. “Unfortunately, yes. She is my daughter. I apologize for her insolence, Your Holiness.”

“And what is your name, sir?” Uqzar asked.

“Zahir Anvar, Your Holiness.”

“This is unacceptable. She is grown. Have you failed to teach her not to step out of line in a presence such as mine?”

Zahir winced. “I have taught her, Your Holiness. I am sorry she has still crossed it.”

“It seems you have been too lenient. I hope, for the sake of your household, you will remedy this before somebody else does so in your place.”

Zahir’s face reddened at the threat. He gave the man a quick nod before motioning to Zara to step back. The vein on his head was visible.

Zara didn’t want to be anywhere near her father, but she also didn’t want to remain where she was. She managed to meet Rowan’s eyes, but they way he was staring—she might as well be the one with the black medallion of death around her neck.

“Zara!” Yohid yelled out.

Zara froze. She turned to him, and he burst into tears.

“Zara! Y-You’re here,” he sobbed. He looked relieved to see her.

Which only brought Zara a newfound terror. Oh no—

“You’re here!” Yohid continued to shout. “You came to save me!” His laughter was grating. She internally screamed that he stop talking.

She couldn’t save him. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t know what the fuck she’d been thinking. She couldn’t even save herself.

“She’s gonna save me!” Yohid shrieked with confidence. “Right Zara?”

Zara could taste the sweat of her entire family at the tip of her tongue. Her knees were buckling, but she forced herself to remain upright.

“Zara, COME BACK here! Now!” Zahir cried.

“Hey!” the stocky officer grunted, shaking Yohid. “What is this bastard going on about?”

Zara shook her head. Don’t say it…Don’t say it…

Revan hadn’t inched a bit. He watched, his challenging gaze urging her to make a move.

Yohid continued to struggle against his restrainers until Zara found her voice. “Yohid,” she said, “no more, okay? Don’t say any more—”

It was too late.

“She’s gonna save me! She’s a witch. She has magic. And she’s here to rescue me!” His giggling mania returned.

It was as though the mountain itself had threatened to fall apart. The town’s raging horror was endlessly unstoppable. Uqzar loomed over her like a god of the dead. Her legs finally gave way and she sank to the ground, begging for her life, pointless as it was now.

“I’m sorry. I’m not,” she denied. “I’m not a witch.”

She was drowned by waves of hateful protests; no one was listening. No one cared what she had to say—not that they ever did in the first place. She was a nobody. And now, she was worse than that.

The guards were struggling to hold people back. Governor Izmil’s shouts of keeping order went unheard…

She had no idea what her family was doing. She couldn’t even hear Noina. Perhaps that retched hag had fainted. After all, she’d be next in line after Zara was flung off, and then…

Zara gasped for air. She couldn’t breathe.

Rowan!

Her family was going to suffer the blow, and Rowan was going down with them.

Get off the mountain, Zara wanted to scream. Run away! Fuck!

Yohid was still giggling away. He really had no idea how weak she of a mage she was. She couldn’t even conjure up power when needed most. Now, there was nothing left for either of them but a torturous demise.

She shut her eyes, trying to drown out every sound. But she was failing. These people were shocked that another “wicked” had been among them all along. They wondered what curse was upon their town, a town that was supposed to be blessed with purity. They asked themselves what the witch was planning to do, whether she was after the boy, or if he had simply gone mad.

It didn’t matter. She could already feel pebbles and small rocks being thrown at her, and she ignored the pain of them hitting. The greater pain was knowing her life ended here.

“I’m sorry,” she was murmuring over and over, to Yohid, to Rowan, to herself. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything. I’m sorry.”

She yelped when Uqzar yanked her headscarf down, forcing her to face him. He was pure fury.

“You horrid wretch,” he snarled, revelation written all over his face. “There has been rumor of a second one, and now I see that it is true. Is that not right, Izmil?”

The governor swallowed nervously. “Y-Yes,” he whispered. “But…the Anvar family is—”

“Shut up.”

The governor obeyed without further resistance.

“Yes,” Uqzar said, leaning closer to examine Zara’s frightened face. “This is the one the boy’s been blabbing about in the cell. I excused it as deluded speech, however…” His eyes gleamed. “I always keep my eye out for other wicked ones, regardless of rumors. You hid yourself well, witch. Until now.”

“No…” Zara squeaked one futile last try. “I’m not. I’m not a witch.”

Uqzar only yanked her harder, inducing harsher sobs.

“How did you cross me?” he asked through gritted teeth. “How did you conceal yourself from me, witch?!”

He released her head and ordered more guards to restrain Zara as they did Yohid.

Zahir had his hand clamped around Rowan’s mouth. They were both surrounded by policemen now. Rowan was crying. Zara could not see her mother and Noina anymore.

Yohid’s mother had gone a sickly pale. She was sitting on the ground, murmuring to herself. A few other women sat around her, supporting her up, fanning her and offering futile words of comfort.

Yohid’s hopeful grin was fading fast.

The one man who could undo this…the one man who could help them…

Help.

Reading her face, Revan shook his head.

You’re such a monster. You’re the biggest bastard of all.

“I’m not a witch,” Zara repeated. “You’re misunderstanding—”

Uqzar’s face hardened with a cruel mockery of a smile. “Oh? I misunderstand?”

He raised his fist. Zara shut her eyes, prepared for a painful blow, before a voice called out—

“WAIT! No!”

A young woman with light hair had shoved her way out of the crowd and was running down to the ledge.

Zara’s mouth hung open.

Cina.

She was in a layered knit dress and a fancy, silver-trimmed cloak. Zara didn’t have to assume that she had dressed fashionably on purpose. To watch the boy you hate be executed like he deserved—what an occasion. Zara almost laughed. She swore she was going to crack, like Yohid already had.

“Uncle, NO!” Cina screamed.

Zara frowned. She must have misheard.

Uncle…?

Uqzar seemed more shocked at Cina’s sudden appearance than Zara was.

“Don’t hurt her,” Cina insisted.

“What are you saying you damn girl?” Uqzar growled, trying to gain back his composure. “You dare interrupt? You don’t think I’ll call for a guard to come lock you in the wagon until this is over?”

“Uncle, she’s harmless! You truly misunderstand.” Cina pointed at Yohid and began to whisper, “That thing over there is trying to deceive you. And you’re letting it! It’s a part of his trick, I’m sure of it. I know this woman, she’s my friend. Zara is no witch!” She clasped her palms together. “Please, listen to me. You know you can trust me, Uncle. I’m telling you, she’s innocent.”

The puzzled townspeople were slowly settling down. Some were still frustrated, demanding an explanation for the holdup.

Uqzar warily regarded his niece. “You are a friend of hers?”

Cina nodded. “Yes. Yes I am, so I know she’s—”

“Why was she trying to halt the proceedings then?”

“I-I don’t know why—”

“How do I know you are not under her spell as well?” Uqzar’s defensive aura strengthened once again.

“I-I’m…not?” Cina seemed to be at a loss for a second, until she looked at Zara once more and regained her confidence. “I’m not.”

“How would you know something like that?” Uqzar sneered.

“Trust,” Cina said, her strong blue gaze unwavering. “That’s all I ask of you.”

“And if you are wrong, my dear?”

“If I am wrong, I will gladly jump from this ledge myself.”

Uqzar contemplated quietly for minutes on end. Zara prayed, prayed to the heavens, to all gods and angels, that she would be spared. She was about to faint. A drop of sweat slid from her nose, landing on her cloak.

“Very well,” Uqzar said.

Every limb in her body went slack. Zara wanted to lie down and cry.

I’m safe. I’m safe! Thank Mother, thank all gods, I’m safe!

“Get up,” Uqzar ordered harshly. “And get out of my sight. The next time you interject, I WILL throw you off this mountain myself.”

Zara stood on shaky feet. Cina rushed to her side and linked their arms together to help Zara steady.

“You’re okay,” she consoled. “You’re okay. Walk with me.”

Zara nodded, letting Cina steer her away from the ledge.

“Breathe, Zara. Just breathe. You’re safe.”

The minuscule hope Yohid had for his own life was shattered.

“Zara?” he whimpered.

“Ignore him,” Cina muttered. “Just ignore him.”

“Zara! You liar. You LIAR! YOU’RE A LIAR!”

Zara whirled around before Cina could protest. “I didn’t lie—”

“What are you doing?!” Cina scolded.

Yohid wailed on and on until Uqzar punched him hard enough to make his nose bleed. “Quiet. Torch! Now!” He seized a torch off one of the guards. “With this, we shall proceed. Release him and stay back.”

Yohid screamed. The officers holding him moved away, making room for Uqzar to bring the torch to Yohid’s final piece of clothing.

“DON’T KILL HIM!” Yohid’s mother shrieked. She had managed to break free of the other women and was charging down to the ledge, until a guard blocked her path.

Zara shook Cina’s arm off and collapsed back on the ground, palms face down in the dirt trail, letting grief wash over. The town’s abominable cheers drowned out much of Yohid’s tortured screams.

“OW! OW! IT’S HURTING! AMMI! IT’S HURTING!” He backed off further to the edge of the mountain, pounding at himself to extinguish the flames, but that only made it worse for his hands. The fire continued to travel across his pants and over his bleeding, bruised flesh. It eventually reached the medallion. At this point, Yohid could no longer form words.

“WATER!” Yohid’s mother wailed, trying to reach for him as the guard shoved her further behind. “PLEASE, GET HIM WATER!”

Blazing, Yohid tripped off the ledge and dropped headfirst into the fogs. His howling cries soon faded away.

It was over.

His mother’s jaw hung in silence. Her eyes rolled up. The guard holding her had to lay her unconscious body down. He patted her cheek a few times, a fruitless attempt to revive her.

Governor Izmil, frazzled, broke away from his personal security and confronted the witch doctor.

“This ceremony was a disaster!” he yelled. “I mean no disrespect Your Holiness, but this has gone out of control. The boy should have been put to death at sundown. The sun has already set. Even so, You hadn’t performed any of the rites on him. You just set him ablaze and let him go off and—”

“Do not question me, Izmil,” Uqzar threatened. “I am well aware of the situation. My job was to end it quickly, before the boy did something we would all regret!”

The governor shook his head in disbelief. “He was wearing the medallion, Your Holiness. What could he possibly have done?”

Uqzar sneered. “If you are not happy with my service, governor, we may speak back in your office.”

The trail began to shake. Pebbles and dust sprinkled the air.

“It’s a quake!” the young officer shouted out. “Quake!”

Everyone was scrambling to get off the mountain as rocks rained down on the trail, on the prison wagon, and the governor’s carriage. Uqzar leaped before he was pummeled. He tripped over a fresh crack on the ledge and fell.

“Uncle!” Cina yelped when Uqzar had almost rolled off the cliff. He scrambled back to the safety as end pieces of the ledge broke away.

The guard with Yohid’s mother had no choice but to abandon her as stray rocks came crashing over them as well. A large stone struck her comatose head. She would never wake again.

The guard attempted to rush down the shaking trail with the others. He shoved as many people out of the way as possible, disregarding the fact that he was pushing them off Mount Lilith completely. He eventually stepped on a loose edge and screamed as he plunged into the fog, shattering his limbs on protruding black rocks on the way down.

Thirty seconds. It had all but lasted thirty seconds.

“Zara! Zara! We have to go! Zara!”

Zara removed her palms off the trail and turned to Cina sitting next to her.

“It’s over,” Zara mumbled, standing on steady feet.

Cina stood with her, panting heavily. “We should go,” she whimpered. Her eyes watered. “I don’t know how, but…I want to get out of here.” She then rushed to her uncle, who was currently being aided by the governor and a few of his officials.

Zara glanced around. Most torches lay, forsaken, most of them extinguished, leaving the atmosphere almost as black as the mountain itself. Many people had been struck by falling rocks and stone. They sat on the trail, injured if not unconscious. The rest were still in hysterics, rushing to get down the mountain and blocking the downward trail in the process. Some, horrifically enough, were still losing their way in dark and falling into the fogs.

The governor was in tears. “Mother, please, " he prayed. “Please, these people…make this stop.”

“Where’s Mama?” Cina was crying. Her eyes desperately searched for her people. “I don’t see Baba, either. Where is everyone? I can’t see…”

Uqzar stood with Cina, quiet and somber.

Zara had no idea where her family was either—if they made it off the mountain, or shared the fate of those who were struck down, or have fallen.

She soon felt Cina’s arm rest on hers. “Come,” she said, shakily. “We’ll find them. We have to.”

A few of the governor’s guards that still had lit torches aided their group back to the trail. The officials who were left unharmed were doing their best to get everyone back in order.

The Sorcerer approached Zara’s field of vision. He was holding a lit torch, and she could see his smug face. Zara watched him as she let herself be pulled away, expressionless, until he disappeared from her sight.