Silently, Mart leaned against the railing, arms folded, his gaze angled downward toward the kilometers of jagged, branching trees that made up the bleak, ash-gray expanse below. That one man could hold such power...

The ship descended onto barren ground about a hundred meters from the tree line, landing in a billow of dust.

“Can you imagine living in such a desolate place for that long?” Alyss asked softly. “It sounds unbearable. Who wouldn’t lose their mind after so many years?” She placed a hand on his arm, looking up at him. “Please, be careful.” She swallowed, pressing her lips together before adding, “I know you doubt it, but I still care about you—deeply. For me… there’s never been anyone else.”

Mart looked away. It would be better for her if there was someone else. But there was little point in saying so. If he failed in what he had to do, they’d all be dead within five years anyway. A rough, tightening feeling pulled at his chest. Saying nothing at all felt too cruel, so he settled for, “I’ll be careful. Fantoom seems like someone who knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, followed by a barely audible sigh. “That doesn’t exactly ease my mind.”

Her expression looked so defeated that Mart hesitated, then awkwardly raised an arm and rested it—hesitantly—against her back. She moved a little closer and let her head rest on his shoulder.

For a moment, he stopped breathing, his heart leaping into his throat. Still, it wasn’t unpleasant. He tightened his hold slightly. “I’ll stay alert,” he said softly. “I’m not entirely sure what to make of this either.”

Together they watched the ship sink lower and lower until a jolt ran through it and they touched down.

Alyss turned to him. “I could come with you, if that makes you feel safer?”

He shook his head firmly. “I don’t want you giving up a bone too. It wouldn’t serve any purpose.” He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then lowered his voice. “Besides, it wouldn’t hurt for you to get to know the others a bit better. For people who clearly have their own agendas, they seem a little too willing to follow ours. Two of them can barely stand us, and they hardly protested at all. Maybe you can try to find out if they’re hiding something.”

Alyss nodded, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders. She probably liked having something useful to do rather than just waiting for their return.

“But hey,” Mart added, “maybe they’re simply decent people who want the Golden Heart to keep burning just as much as we do. No one wants to see their loved ones die, right?”

She turned her gaze back toward the Bonewood. “You’d think so. But there’s a reason we’re aboard a monster hunter’s ship instead of a Tranendal fleet.”

He had to admit, she had a point. It couldn’t have been easy for her, finding no one to rely on. No wonder she distrusted strangers—even ones willing to risk their lives for her.

He brushed a hand along her back without thinking, then pulled away. “Come on, let’s head down. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can move on.”

She gave him a smile that stirred something deep in him, the same way it used to. Maybe things weren’t completely lost after all.

They took the lift down to the deck, where an open hatch gaped. Cami sat on its edge, legs dangling into the open air. “Ah, come on, lovebirds!” he called with a wide grin. “Time to bring out the big guns!”

Mart moved past Alyss and climbed down the sturdy ladder. Gas lamps illuminated the cargo hold. On one side stood crates and barrels, likely for long voyages. To the left, an entire rack of weapons stretched across the wall. Aravin was already there, swinging a large sword through the air; its edges flared orange, scattering sparks.

“Whoa!” he breathed in disbelief.

Fantoom leaned casually against a steel pillar, arms crossed, watching with amusement.

Aravin’s eyes gleamed with childlike excitement—an energy Mart felt rising in himself, too.

“You clearly don’t know how to handle that,” Saxa remarked, shaking her head. “And I’m not letting you take one of my darlings out there.”

Aravin looked genuinely crestfallen as he hung the sword back.

A faint grin tugged at Mart’s lips before he turned to inspect the weapons. Swords, axes, firearms as small as his fist or as long as his leg. Smooth metal discs, hooked rifles, devices he couldn’t even identify. Farther down were massive contraptions that would require two or three people just to lift. Getting those to the deck would be a challenge in itself.

“You’ve got enough weapons here to arm an entire army,” he said when he stopped beside Fantoom. One gun in particular caught his eye: a deep blue weapon with elegant curves and a golden spiral winding around the barrel. The opening was so wide he could fit his fist inside. He reached out and brushed a hand over the polished surface.

“Good eye,” Fantoom said. “That’s a Pulverizer—designed for stone giants. A bone beast won’t stand a chance against it.”

Mart’s hand slid down to the grip. “May I?”

Fantoom nodded slowly. “As long as you don’t unlock it before we’re off the ship.”

Mart carefully lifted the weapon from its hook and tested its weight. It was lighter than it looked. Even without knowing exactly what it could do, confidence stirred in him. His gaze wandered across the other weapons, but this one called to him—and he decided to trust that instinct.

Back on deck, Alyss had joined Cami near the hatch, while Lux stood apart, arms resting on the railing, staring into the Bonewood.

After a moment’s hesitation, Mart approached him. He hardly knew the man, had barely heard him speak. The Pulverizer was probably his invention, so it felt only right to say something.

As he drew closer from the side, he noticed how hard Lux’s eyes looked. The mask over his mouth hid his jaw, but the tension in his stance made it clear his teeth were clenched.

“No fond memories of this forest?” Mart asked, resting the Pulverizer on the railing as he studied its switches.

“If it were up to me, I’d burn this rusted graveyard to the ground,” Lux said with such venom that Mart glanced up in surprise.

He remembered Fantoom saying he’d crashed one of Lux’s prototypes here. Lux had probably spent days fearing the worst—and still carried the guilt. Mart didn’t know what to say to that, so he changed the subject. “Did you design this thing?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe you can show me how it works?”

Lux’s light brown eyes flicked toward him, then he gave a small nod. “I’ll show you down there.” He glanced toward the barren ground between the ship and the Bonewood. “There’s also a harness. Wait here.”

The shadow lifted from his expression, and there was even a bounce to his step as he headed for the hatch. Mart guessed Lux was the type who threw himself completely into his inventions—someone who found comfort in creation, a way to hide from thoughts he’d rather not face.

Lux returned with a double harness that Mart had to wear crossed over both shoulders, each side fitted with a hook for the weapon. “In an emergency, you just release this,” he said, clicking the clasp loose. “That lets you fire from close range.” He pushed the weapon aside—close enough to brush his own body—so it could be held comfortably in the right hand.

Unfortunately, Mart was left-handed. “I’m a lefty. Can I just wear it the other way around, or…?”

“Yeah, that works too. It’s ambidextrous. Adelaide was left-handed as well, and she…” He stopped abruptly, glancing toward the Bonewood. “Come. I’ll show you how it works.” Without waiting for an answer, he strode toward the rope ladder.

Mart refastened the clasp and followed.

Both he and Aravin spent a long while practicing with their weapons. In addition to the seven-barrel gun Mart had seen before, Aravin now carried a curved blade at his hip and a rifle slung across his back. It wasn’t as flashy as Mart’s, but its shots came with shrill whistles—sometimes followed by a bang, sometimes smoke, sometimes fire. To Mart, it all seemed unnecessarily complicated for a life-or-death situation, but Aravin had proven himself unnervingly decisive before.

For the first time in five years, Mart also wore his spirals again—with his own copera, each one a glimmering memory of a former life. Some were already filled with tinctures; others were empty, ready to be loaded from the pouch Aravin had given him. He hadn’t even known Aravin had kept his things all this time, nor why he’d chosen to return them now. Maybe because I wasn’t exactly approachable, Mart thought. If he was being honest, he’d probably have told him to shove them in a dark hole back then. But now, with their lives on the line… this wasn’t the time to cling to old grudges. They had to rely on each other—even if Mart only trusted the others as far as he could throw them. He didn’t have a choice, and he hoped they knew that too.

Fantoom was already saying his goodbyes. Out of the corner of his eye, Mart saw Cami wipe away a few tears before Fantoom pulled him into a brief hug.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Mart turned away, feeling like he was intruding on something private. Better to say his own goodbye to Alyss—something he’d rather skip, but she didn’t deserve that. Aravin was already with her, though he stepped back the moment he noticed Mart.

By the time Mart reached her, they were alone. Yesterday, when she’d woken up, it had felt like they’d grown a little closer again. Now he had no idea what to say. He ran a hand through his hair. “So… I guess we’re off.” He wanted to bite his tongue.

“Yeah.” She lowered her gaze, rubbing her arms as if she were cold.

“Don’t forget, you’ve got your own mission,” Mart said. It was meant to sound encouraging, but came out hard and flat. He looked down at his spirals. If only there were a tincture to make you say the right words. His throat felt full of sand, rough and dry, blocking anything meaningful.

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath, then looked up and clasped his hands. “Mart…”

On reflex, he pulled his hands away. Pain flashed in her eyes, and he regretted it instantly—but he didn’t dare reach out again, afraid he’d only make things worse. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I…” His eyes flicked toward the deadly forest that suddenly looked far too inviting. “I have to go.”

Even though the others weren’t waiting yet.

“Okay.”

The disappointment in her voice cut through him, and with his head still turned toward the forest, he closed his eyes briefly. Forcing himself to pull it together, he looked back at her. “Don’t worry. Fantoom knows what he’s doing, and we’ve got good weapons.” He managed a faint, watery smile. “And once I understand more about myself and my powers, maybe I won’t be such a…” He swallowed the rest. “More like I used to be.”

She gave him a faint smile in return. You’ll never be like you used to be, her sad eyes seemed to say. None of us will. She looked as though she wanted to offer some hope, but the longer he lingered, the more awkward it became. Finally, he turned his back to her and started toward the Bonewood.

A few steps from its edge, he stopped and stared into the unnatural, lifeless forest.

The twisted branches looked disturbingly like elongated bones, or stacks of knuckles fused together. Where had they come from—those who had once hunted the Soultaker, perhaps?

The forest exuded such a dreadful stillness that he flinched when movement caught his eye. Aravin had come to stand beside him. A few seconds later, Fantoom joined them, a knife in hand.

Mart’s mouth went dry. He’d completely forgotten about the toll they had to pay. Panic shot through him. We’re really doing this? Part of him had hoped Fantoom had been joking—but there was no trace of a smirk on his face. Which finger should he choose? Or a toe? Which could a man spare most easily? 

His gaze flicked to Aravin’s face, pale as his own. He’d seen the knife too.