Käel was not sure if it was the water or the night that made the Aetherian appear black. The water was so dark and thick with ash, even her face did not reflect on its sullen surface. Parched by the exhausting run, she crouched on the bank and scooped a palmful of water. Ash dust floated in the sludge on her palm. No way she could drink it.

She undid the leather boots, joined the laces, swung the pair over her shoulder, and entered the river. First step – cold and ankle deep. Soft underneath. But nothing alarming. Second step; a little deeper, softer. The water was alive, yes, and murmured a few bubbles. She tried to lift her rear foot, but the soft riverbed had somehow gripped it. A yank and her foot plopped out, nearly stumbling her into the water.

Käel frowned and glanced up at the black canopy over her. She needed light to find a rock or something firm to step on if she were to ever cross the Aetherian. She retreated from the water and squinted to survey the serpentine river for a narrow crossing. But she could barely see a couple hundred yards on either side through the opaque fog, and there was no telling how far the other bank was beyond the darkness.

A horn bellowed behind her – familiar and treacherous. She held her breath and squinted into the grey haze. A shadow moved, she was sure. The Deathwraiths were close; they would soon catch her. She sprinted along the bank to her left and ran hard until her breath fumed inside her.

Another horn – a blare, a rhythmic stomping of fee and distinct clang of metal. They are closer. How are they tracking me in the dark?

She must cross. Now. Käel tied her shoes to her waist, tied her empty bottle behind her back, and waded into the cold dread. Barely four steps and her feet were stuck again. She had to keep off the riverbed. She lowered her body into the buoyant water and jerked her legs out to float. Easy, except for the weight of her cloak and the dragonsteel. She heaved one stroke, then another, keeping the bright star in front until she lost sight of the home bank. Ash clung to her face making it difficult to keep her eyes open. She kept her face over the water and continued. How much further?

Something tugged at her left ankle. Is the water getting shallower? Maybe I am closer to the bank, she thought and kicked her feet for another stroke. Her left leg didn't move. Something wire-thin and sharp, like muskgrass, had tangled around above her ankle, restricting her movement. Käel heaved and tried to kick out, but the grip tightened. With a resolute breath, Käel pursed her lips and dived into the darkness with her eyes pinched shut. She pulled, tugged at the thin stolon, yanked as hard as her breath allowed, but the tender stem didn't give way. She tried to surface, but only her palm jutted out of the water. The aquatic reed curled further, pulling her to the depth. Thornveil? Panic stirred inside her because the reed was the aquatic touch-me-not creeper known to be venomous. Don't move, she warned herself, but her lungs were on fire. She unsheathed the dragonsteel and swung. The sword dragged through the water without slicing the reed.

The suffocating blanket crushed her lungs. Käel flailed her heavy and sluggish limbs. Bubbles erupted from her pinched lips. The world above faded to a distant murmur. She kicked with the residual strength, her departing breath urging her to fight, but waded deeper into the molasses.

The water was thick, swirling with ash, and swallowed her whole. She opened her eyes and accepted the stinging depth; she had failed her people.

A muffled splash. A hazy blue light flickered above her and grew brighter and bigger until the blackness surrounding her was a bright blue hue. She knew what it was. She eased her grip on the dragonsteel and opened her arms to embrace the cold death.

A soft and moist mouth clamped over Käel's lips, blowing a gust of warm air into her, puffing her lungs. The air leaked through her nostrils, deflating the lifeless balloons in her diaphragm.

A distant scream echoed in her mind. 'Breathe, please breathe!'

Käel felt jerks on her chest; the lips clamped down again. A hurricane of warm breath blew inside her, puffed her cheeks, and rattled her lungs. Another round of hard shoves hammered and crunched her ribs.

'Breathe!' A shriek trembled her eardrums and knocked at her brain.

She tried to breathe but couldn't.

The lips pressed against her mouth again; a dense, warm wad of breath inflated her lungs.

'By the Gods, breathe! Now!' The scream kicked her brain.

The locked air in her lungs leaked out, not as a stream, but as a gigantic torrent of ash-stained water, a whooping gasp, bursting out like a storm, the vacuum retracting the lungs. Her lungs trembled, uncurled their crumpled, stifled petals, and swelled with life, driving her diaphragm up and down, slow at first, picking pace, rapacious to churn out the sludge from her lungs.

A dull mutter came from afar. "Breathe."

Käel coughed violently; warmth spurted out from her mouth and nose. "Who are you?" she mumbled between coughs.

"The girl is on the wrong side of Aetherian." His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

Käel realised her hood and scarf were gone, and strands of her hair had clung to her face. The man facing her was wearing a dark cloak, and all but his eyes were visible, standing utterly still as he hunched next to her. She wiped her face with her palm, rose, and untied the laces of the shoes on her waist. "You saved me," she said, shaken and embarrassed that a stranger had just put his lips on her.

"Have this," the man extended his wet-gloved hand with an ampoule.

Käel took the ampoule and studied the yellowish liquid inside.

"The Nightshade is toxic. This is an antidote," he said with an assured tone.

Käel glanced at the red ligatures on her wrist and above her ankles, opened the ampoule, and drank the cold liquid. She returned the bottle to the stranger, now aware of the unusually clean air and gibbous moon low on the horizon. She inhaled deeply and knelt to wear her shoes as the stranger watched with a discomforting silence. Her shoes tight and scarf wrenched dry, she broke the silence. "Thank you for saving my life."

The man said nothing and rose, standing tall over Käel.

"No firefall or ash on this side?" Käel asked, scanning the surroundings for her dragonsteel. Did she let go of it?

The man shook his head, turned to his left, and clucked twice. A camel, unlike any Käel had seen, staggered from the darkness – double-humped, cobalt black with hooves as wide as saucepans and maned with thick fur all over the body except around its round, yellow eyes. The beast gaited in silently with a cistern cart trailing and lowered his neck to nudge the stranger. He reached into a saddle by the camel's side and drew out a "So long," the man said and clucked. The camel bent its front limbs, and the stranger mounted it swiftly, gathering the leather rein. Something glimmered under his cloak, and Käel knew what it was.

"That sword belongs to me," she stepped before the camel-like beast.

The man reined the camel, unsheathed an arm's length of black steel, and ran a gloved finger over the sharp edge. "Where did you steal this fine weapon from? Not the dead King, I hope." Another cluck, and the beast turned.

Käel stood still for a moment as the creature stepped away. She rubbed her chin, dashed, and stood in front of the soft cud of the beast, gurgling as it chewed rhythmically. "It's a special sword."

"Clearly. But a thief has no claim over the stolen."

Käel spread her arms and stopped in front of the beast. "You can have it but on one condition."

The man pulled the reins, and stooped around the camel's neck. "What's that?"

"Take me to the Desert of Echoes."

The stranger stretched a corner of his lips; Käel wasn't sure if it was a feral or gentle smile, but she noticed his pale blue eyes for the first time. "Careful what you ask for, girl."

"It's dragonsteel, the last of its kind."

The man straightened his back, and their eyes locked onto each other. Käel wasn't sure why, but even under drenched clothes, a bead of sweat traced a slow path on her neck and snaked to her back. She had a strange feeling that she was not there, that this was all a dream, and the man, too, wasn't there. She clenched her fist and dug her nails into her palm. This was no dream. The man leaned close to her, close enough for Käel to note the golden stubble. He whispered, "The living do not enter the sands." He untied the sword from his belt and dropped it. The heavy metal fell on the river bank with a soft thud. He clicked his heel against the beast, and it turned.

Käel stood frozen, watching the beast sway along the bank into the darkness. To her right was the Aetherian flowing with a quiet gargle, the air over it as dark as the water. To her left was a silent expanse of a world she'd never imagined. She felt drained and empty. Desperation clung to her, stripping away her will and wrapping her in its cold embrace. She had to do something.

Käel picked up the dragonsteel and dashed after the stranger. She ran hard until the beast's silhouette appeared and shouted, "Wait."

The man stopped and turned the beast to her.

Käel watched him carefully; the tension in his posture and how his hands clenched at the reins. She pressed her thumb against the sharp edge of dragonsteel and felt a trickle. With a slow, deliberate breath, she brushed her soulshade against his leg, a gentle nudge that only she could feel. "I am the princess of Rivencrest."

"Not my princess."

"Please. I lost my parents, my city is in ruins, and the only hope is to find a way to stop the darkness before it engulfs the world, mine and yours." As she spoke, she sensed his emotions shifting, the edges of resolve weakening.

"The sands are unforgiving," the man responded almost in a whisper.

Under her cloak, Käel pressed her thumb deeper, bit the insides of her cheek to conceal the pain, and pressed her soulshade deeper. "Yes. But Vyrathaen won't stop. Your people and your world will be destroyed, too. You must help."

"Y... yes." The man mumbled, his gaze softened, and Käel knew the moment he began to yield. The change was slight, almost imperceptible. She didn't need to push further; the seed was planted, and she could see it taking root in the way he looked at her, the way his resistance melted into quiet agreement. "I will take you."

"Thank you." Käel held the hilt of dragonsteel tight in her fist to keep herself standing. She's pushed her ability far beyond. The scar on her thumb won't go, but it was worth a try. She exhaled and released the soulshade, knowing well, she'd left an echo in the man's mind, a faint residue of influence. If she tried it again or harder, the man would feel a vague sense of unease or distrust around her. Worse, she knew, her mind was now chained to him. If she weakened or drops alertness, he could manipulate her, just as she had manipulated him.

The man swung his leg over the camel and dismounted with a distant look in his pale eyes as if waking from a dream he couldn't quite remember. He untucked his keffiyeh, revealing a weathered face, deep-set pale eyes, and a strong jawline with a golden stubble framed by honey-brown tousled hair.

"I am Princess Käel Ravensong, the last heir of Rivencrest."

"I am Arionïs Valenor, and this is Dunebae," he replied with a bow. "Whoever suggested you this wants you dead."

"Gréydenmir."

The man's brows lifted sharply, his eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth twitched. He remained silent for a long time before he spoke. "Gréydenmir from the high order of Eldermage?"

"I believe so."

"So, the lore is true," Arionïs said, rearranging the saddle. "What exactly did the immortal tell you?"

Käel considered if she could trust the stranger, resisting the sudden urge to share all her secrets. His soulshade is overbearing, she thought and bit her lips. "He spoke of a prophecy. Said my destiny awaits in the Desert of Echoes."

"Not destiny. Only death. None know what side that cursed sorcerer plays now." Arionïs clucked, and the camel, Dunebane, bent its front limbs. "You have been warned. Mount."

"You know your way through the desert?" Käel said, mounting the camel and sliding ahead to create space for the man. Arionïs instead gripped the reins and whispered in the creature's ears. Käel rocked as the beast unbuckled its limbs and stood up. Arionïs ran his hand under the camel's poll, brushing the thick mane.

"There are no ways in the desert. Only one person has ever returned from the sands. She is our best chance."

"Can she show us the way?" Käel adjusted herself on the camel-back and tied the dragonsteel to her belt.

Arionïs pulled the reins toward the desert and led the way, the camel swaying behind him. "I am not sure. She's blind ever since she returned."

***