Grace had never really understood what they meant before, but she did now. She hadn’t even known that she could want something as much as she’d wanted Torr.

The slow burn was easier to bear this morning, but it was still there, one single breath away from igniting all over again.

She cleared her throat. When that didn’t loosen her words, she just nodded.

He untied a cloth that held some bread they’d brought with them and set it next to a small pile of fruit he’d gathered. “Eat up. We’ll leave as soon as you’re done.”

Within seconds, he was gone, slipping into the forest as silently as a predator.

That slow burn of desire sent out a few sparks, but she held herself together long enough to shove down some food and get moving. The sooner they found those crystals, the sooner they could be back around other people—people who would keep her from doing anything she might regret.

The only real question left was which she would regret more—taking what she wanted or denying herself something amazing.

That thought was the one that stuck with her as she led the way through the dense woods. She’d never gone this far before, but there was no question that she was headed in the right direction. The whole path was one long, familiar trail. Each step she took put the next one firmly in her mind, as if she’d come this way every day for years.

By the time both suns were halfway up the horizon, she’d found the spot she’d been searching for—a giant forked tree so old that its bark had taken on the same metallic shimmer as its leaves.

“Just over this next rise,” she told Torr.

She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know he was there. She’d felt his silent presence all day, heating her back and making her spine tingle.

Grace started up the hill, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. “I’ll go first and scout. Stay here,” he whispered.

She instinctively mimicked his tone, keeping her words quiet. “I’ve led the whole way and got you this far. I think I know where I’m going.”

“I’m not worried about your sense of direction. I am, however, worried about the sounds I hear coming from the other side.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“You’re human,” he said, as if that explained it all.

“A human with ears.”

“Mine are better. Stay here and stay silent.”

He was gone before she could argue further, leaving her feeling more than a little inadequate. She’d never thought he would have better hearing than she did; it made her wonder what else he could do that she couldn’t. What else she hadn’t considered.

Was he just being nice and pretending that she wasn’t lacking, the way someone might do with a child too small to reach up high?

The notion grated on her as the seconds ticked by in slow progression. If he ran into trouble on the other side of the hill, would she even be able to help him? Would she even know he needed help before it was too late?

Anxiety pushed her into action. She didn’t care if she wasn’t as strong as he was or if her hearing was worse. She wasn’t weak or stupid. If he needed help, she’d find some way to give it.

Grace tiptoed up the hill, lowering herself to belly-crawl as she neared the summit. She crawled, inching forward over scratchy leaves and sticks. The leather of her tunic protected her torso, but the skin above her sandal straps was bare and raw by the time she peeked over the top.

The air here was distinctly colder. The land sloped down into a shallow bowl about a half mile across. The ground was charred and burned to a crisp, with a shimmering sprinkle of rough black sand covering everything. Little pools of frozen water dotted the area, as if the last rainfall had been unable to soak through the hard crust on the ground before it froze.

It looked like something had slammed into the planet years ago and cauterized the ground so that nothing could grow again. Single, infant strands of new plant life crept over the edge of the sand but were frozen wherever they touched the charred earth.

The forest had tried to reclaim this land and failed.

Several large boulders of glossy black rock sat at the bottom of the crater. They varied in size and shape, but each one was made up of jagged angles and razor-thin obsidian blades. In the closest one, she could see a depression that had vaguely the same shape as one of those Hunters that had attacked her and Torr. Beneath that indent, deep within the center of the boulder, was a pulsing light.

As she stared, she felt her own pulse slow to match the pace of the glow. A heavy sleepiness washed over her, tempting her to close her eyes.

Torr was still down there. She couldn’t give in to the need to take a nap when he was in danger.

Grace forced herself to look away from the light and concentrate. She couldn’t see him anywhere, but she could now hear what he had heard. Voices, low and rumbling. They were speaking in the same flowing language that the Athanasian women did, but there was no smoothness to the sound. The rough words were punctuated with a rhythmic clinking that set her teeth on edge.

Her sleepiness faded more as she looked away from the light longer. Whether that glowing was some kind of magic or technology, she wasn’t sure, but it was definitely potent stuff.

She scooted back down the hill and moved a few hundred feet to her left, hoping for a better angle that might allow her to see Torr. By the time she was nearly back in position at the lip of the crater, the clinking sound had changed pitch. It was higher now, but it still made her skin crawl.

As she peeked out from the brush hiding her, she saw the source of the noise. Two huge creatures were chipping away at the glowing stone with heavy chisels and hammers. The workers were shaped like humans, but the similarity ended there.

Their skin was a smooth, flawless surface without a single hair anywhere. They were a muddy gray color with the same sheen as freshwater pearls. Their skin was granular, like fine-packed sand. Their eyes were tall, narrow slits filled with the same glossy black as the stones they chiseled. Completely naked and apparently sexless, they worked in perfect unison. Thick, bulbous hands gripped the tools, making their forearms bulge with visible strength. Each of them had in the center of its chest a bright circle that seemed to glow with its own inner light. Swirling plumes of yellow and white rose from that mark, bursting out like solar flares.

Between heavy blows to the boulder they worked on, their lipless mouths defiled a language Grace had once thought beautiful. She could feel power vibrating in those words as the cold air turned them to fog. As the strange men neared the end of their sculptural project, the black glass they were carving into the shape of a Hunter began to move.