Corva opens her eyes and is immediately greeted with the feeling of air slapping against her face as she plummets headfirst through the sky. Zeke’s hand is no longer on her forehead, though he remains perched on the back of her head, clinging to dreadlocks as they flap behind her. The ground is a lot closer now than when she closed her eyes. That was only a few meager seconds ago, but the time spent in her memories felt like half a lifetime.

She tucks her chin so she can look to the sky above her feet. Thegn is still back there, chasing after her in his own dive. She turns her head back toward the ground. Getting close. Scary close.

Remember, Corva, you want to aim for Bule.

She nods and then opens her arms and legs, spreading her body out as much as possible to slow her descent. As expected, she sees the blade of Thegn’s scythe shoot by and then swing toward her. Like before, she catches the shaft with both hands, and the Old Beard is immediately upon them.

He grins his broken grin and despite the roar of the air rushing past them, she can still hear his voice. “Thought you’da learned from the first two times!”

He looks up and his wings beat downward. Corva feels her body start to change direction as they begin their ascent. Now!

Corva uses the momentum of her lower body to swing her legs up and plant her feet on the scythe’s shaft, right between each of her hands.

The gate is open. You have my flow. Zeke’s words push through her mind. Insistent.

With a single nod of acknowledgment, she takes a deep breath and grits her teeth. This is going to hurt.

The bones and muscles in her upper back pop and move under her skin. New bone, new muscle, new connective tissue—they manifest and push against the skin just above her shoulder blades. Sharp pain sears across her back. It’s exactly like she remembers. Her skin grows, tearing and stretching as it wraps around a second pair of arms as they extend from her back in a fraction of a second, ripping holes through her shirt. The straps of her pack strain against the space taken up by her new set of arms. Corva’s back is soaked in blood. The pain is almost unbearable; she screams through her clenched teeth and her vision blurs as water streams from her eyes.

Before Thegn is able to lift his wings from the giant flap downward that began their ascent, Corva reaches out with her freshly formed arms. She claws her new fingers into his wings, gripping them with as much force as she can muster. Corva and Thegn start to fall together. It’s a controlled, gliding descent. She glances over her shoulder to ensure that they’re still aimed toward Bule. Turning her head back, she sees him look down at her.

His face is a slow progression of emotions. Recognition transforms into realization. For the briefest of moments, Corva thinks she can see a wave of fear run over him, but it’s quickly replaced—if it was there at all—with pure anger. The wrinkles on his aged face fold over themselves as he struggles in vain to free his wings from her grasp.

Corva looks up at Thegn and smiles.