The next morning is a blur of activity. James wakes me at the crack of dawn and dresses me in his very own signature hood to help hide my face, and we promptly set off to the stables. He flashes some papers that I am positive are forged to the stablemaster, and is promptly given a horse. An entire horse. And he didn't have to pay a thing.

This particularly large horse is saddled and reined by stablehands, and James, once he's strapped his (technically, Fyr's) bag to the saddle, effortlessly swings up into the seat, then holds his hand down to me.

"Up we go," he beckons, and I sleepily reach up, unsure of how to properly mount a horse when there is a person already on it. I've actually never ridden one before in my life, and they're a lot taller in person, so I'm horribly unprepared for when James grabs my wrist and lifts me up into the air, leaving me flailing for a stirrup.

Finally my foot catches the back of his boot, which I use as an inconvenient foothold, and he continues to hold me up well enough that I'm able to swing my other leg over the horse sloppily and finally seat myself behind him.

"Never ridden, I take it?" he chortles in front of me, hiding his grin by scratching his jaw.

I open my mouth to retort, but he flicks the reins, and the horse lurches forward, stealing my breath. I grip my hands into his shoulders, focusing on not falling.

"Where are we going?" I ask as he turns onto a path. The horse jostles more than I thought it would, each step somewhat of a jolt, and I find myself already looking forward to dismounting.

"Leaving town. Keep your eyes to the ground; we don't know who knows your face."

"What about Fyr?" I haven't had a chance to discuss anything yet with James. I have so much uncertainty regarding everything, and I have no idea what to do. Plus, James still has that amulet, which I am sure is still important even if Fyr isn't to be trusted.

"Don't worry, one step at a time. First thing's first, we've got to get out of this place; you're a wanted woman. Sound good?"

"Okay."

We reach a large gate signaling the exit of Menethil, and James hands that same set of papers he'd used to acquire the horse to a fully-armored guard who approaches us.

The guard peers at me, but I doubt he can see much under the hood. I drop my stare to the ground at his feet. He looks at the papers for a few long seconds, nods, and hands them back up.

"Be on your way," the guard steps back into place. "Safe travels to you."

James nods back and clicks the horse forward. As soon as we've gone about a hundred paces from the exit, James turns his head sideways.

"You may want to hold on a bit tighter than that," he says mischievously, and I tense my brows.

"Why?" I'm somewhat distracted by our surroundings. We're in a boggy marshland, humid and thick with morning mist. Sweat beads on my forehead, back, and chest.

"Hold on," he says again, and with no further warning, launches the horse into a full-on gallop with some hard clicks of his heels and urging with the reins.

I lose my breath, throwing my arms around his ribs and holding on for dear life as the animal tears along a dirt path. Short trees, shrubs, and marsh whip past us, and I flatten myself against James's back, face pressed sideways against his jacket.

Behind us, the stone walls of the harbor disappear into the mist.

We ride for ages. The horse alternates between trotting and galloping, doing more of the former than the latter.

It feels like it's been at least an hour before James finally slows us to a walk, and I finally relax the iron grip I've had around his ribs. My butt and legs are aching, every step of the horse giving me mild bruising pain in areas I didn't know existed. I've heard the term 'saddle sore', but I always thought it was more of an expression.

"Where are we going?" I pipe up, breaking the sound of singing insects and frogs.

"I am taking you to Ironforge, and Stormwind City from there. We couldn't take flight due to your local notoriety. So we are taking the long way." He looks to his right and points off in the distance at a snow-peaked mountain stretching into the sky over the mist. "There."

"That's incredibly far," I breathe. "How long will that take?"

"Oh, we should be at the base of the mountain by nightfall. This stallion is specially bred and trained for endurance," he speaks as if he's proud, and he pats the animal's grey, spotted neck. "We don't regularly use 'trains and automobiles' here, but we make do."

I think to myself how indeed, if I had my speedy bike, I'd be there in just a couple hours. Travel here is so slow.

"For now, though, our steed could use a moment to rehydrate, and we could use one to eat." He directs the horse to a broad-branched tree beside the road and stops under it, dismounting and helping me down. My legs are so stiff, I almost can't stay upright, and I groan loudly when my feet hit the ground.

"Oh god, my legs," I grunt to myself, stretching them painfully.

"You know, a proper massage would help that," James teases as he leads the horse to a shallow pool only a couple feet from the tree.

I lean against the bark, squeezing my thigh muscles, and roll my eyes. "Let me guess, you volunteer as masseuse?"

"I am skilled in it," he hums as he runs his hands along the sleek side of the large speckled horse.

I scoff. Just the mental image of anyone massaging my upper, inner thighs is weird enough for me to laugh. Let alone James.

"Kind of a weirdly specific skill to have, James," I counter.

"Oh, I have quite a number of weirdly specific skills, Love," he says, flashing me a grin.

I fight a smile. "I don't want to know."

"Sure you don't."

I sigh at him, derailing this train before it goes further, "What are we going to do about me once we reach...what'd you call it, Stormwind City?"

"We are meeting someone."

"Someone who can help?"

"Hopefully. He's helped you quite a bit thus far. Or, at least, tried."

I'm confused by this, mind running for a moment before I come to a realization. "Wait, who are we meeting, James?"

"A particularly tall lighthouse of a man." His lips tug at a smirk as he focuses his attention on the horse.

"Fyr?!"

"Aye," he says it so nonchalantly.

"How the fuck-"

"He is the one who found me and had me break you out of prison. I was surprised he was willing to break the law, considering all the bullshit he's spouted thus far..."

"You're telling me that you and Fyr coordinated a crime? You and Fyr?!"

"I was more bewildered than you, Miss Warner," he chuckles, circling around to come stand beside me. "But, yes. I suppose he was desperate."

Desperate to keep you to himself, a voice swirls in my head. I try to ignore it, but it isn't that easy.

James catches the unease that flashes in my eyes, and leans against the tree next to me, only a foot away.

"Now what was that?" he tilts his head.

I dismiss him, annoyed that nothing seems to slip past him. "Nothing."

"I know fear when I see it, lass. I know we've had our differences, but you can trust me here. What are you afraid of?"

I flick my eyes to his. From a foot away, I can catch all the different colors in his irises: gold, brown, green, and grey all layered in a warm and vibrant explosion, hooded beneath thick, dark lashes. I stare for a second to gather my thoughts. If Fyr is indeed what the spirit said he was, I need all the help I can get. It would be a good idea to get an opinion from someone familiar with this world and its inhabitants rather than just go by my own intuition.

"I can't get the idea out of my head that Fyr is really dangerous."

A smirk tugs at James's lips. "Took you this long to figure that out?"

I give him an eyeroll. "Just for now, can you ignore your bias? What that spirit said to me, about how Fyr enslaved it and forced it to abduct me—"

"Wait, what was all that?" James cuts in, suddenly looking even more interested than before.

I wince at my blabbermouth and realize I didn't give him any of the details yet.

After a hard moment of deliberation, my eyes lock on his intensely.

"I want to tell you more, but I don't know if I can trust you."

"I really haven't done much to earn that trust yet, have I?"

"Not a ton. The jailbreak thing was nice, though. I'll give you that."

He stares back at me, and I can see his mind swirling through his hazel eyes. He thinks for another moment, then leaves my side. He retrieves the infamous backpack and opens up a small side pocket, digs in, and pulls out the crystal amulet. It shimmers in the boggy sunlight, probably the shiniest thing in this wetland.

He approaches me and reaches his hand out to me, amulet hanging from two fingers.

"All yours, Love."

I stare down at it, then glance back up at him as I reach out and accept it. "So…just like that? After all that arguing and difficulty, you'll trade it for a story?"

He shrugs. "Sure."

I narrow my eyes at him, studying his annoyingly-cheerful face, and finally give in. If I can't trust James, the man who's been most accepting of my story of anyone, who can I trust in this world?

"Alright, then. Might want to buckle in," I warn as I don the amulet over my head, hiding the crystal inside of my shirt. When it lays against my chest, I feel a strange but grounding buzz trickle through me, all the way into my fingers and toes. It feels subtle, but comforting. Like the uncontrollable is...controlled.

James retrieves dried foods for both of us and settles in as I tell him everything. The nightmares, the spirit, the warnings. The weird rhyming. All of it.

By the time I'm finished, James is sitting on the ground beside me, chin resting on one hand, expression deep in thought. I've been tracing spirals and circles in the dirt by these tree roots with a tiny stick while I talk, and now the ground looks like it's been visited by tiny extraterrestrials.

"So, yeah. You came and pulled me out of jail, and here we are." I chew some tough smoked meat, hoping it doesn't get stuck between my teeth like I've come to learn jerky has a tendency to do.

I lean back, folding my arms across my ribs, and stare out at the mist. I don't want to interrupt James's thoughts, but he also hasn't said a word this entire time.

Just as I open my mouth to interrupt the quiet, he speaks.

"I'm no expert in demons or spirits, and I certainly can say I did not expect them to be in play here. But…I doubt what you met was a demon. There's a big scare about those lately, you see," he begins in a more explanatory tone, "what with the invasions a few months ago and the ordeal offshore; everyone's on edge. People are paying demonologists to rune-ward their own homes and farmland. It's probably why you were arrested so quickly and unquestioningly. But demons are more aggressive, understand? What I know is that a demon wouldn't expend that much energy into trying to convince you of something; these days, with them being so rampant, he'd just kill you and do it himself. And that's only if he is separated from his 'hive'. Usually if there's one, there are more."

I can't fully understand what he's talking about, but I can get the gist of it. Demons are hardcore.

"This does, however, make me wonder if your portals have attracted some unwanted attention. What the woman said back in Feralas about you opening rifts with your magic, that's probably true. It is very possible that your magic is a beacon for wayward spirits. Not all spirits are benevolent; they can trick and manipulate just like people." He hesitates, shrugging his shoulders. "But, this is all considering that what the spirit said was untrue, which may itself be false."

I nod quietly.

"And," he adds, "I know hearing this from me means less, but you really should understand… Aerefyr Darkeye is a dangerous man, Ava. Truly. If in fact the spirit is telling the truth, this is a very serious situation. If I were you, I would keep my trust to a minimum. Both in Aerefyr, and in the spirit. Don't take either's side until you have palpable, damning information toward one or the other."

Frustrated, I inhale before speaking. "You people who know him say Fyr is so dangerous, but you're so damn cryptic about why, and it's not helpful or effective. If you're going to warn me against someone, please at least give me the respect of explaining why."

James chuckles and drinks from a water skin, then hands it to me. "Fair enough, Love." He wipes his mouth with his sleeve. "I've actually encountered him before. A good eight or nine years ago, now, and he doesn't know it. He doesn't know anyone was watching."

I sit forward. James's tone has darkened ever so slightly, which alerts me that this is serious.

"It was in the town of Ratchet. You don't know where that is, but just picture Theramore somewhat dustier, redder, and no big stone walls. I traveled in the company of two of my old thieves' guild members. One of them, Paola, was fleeing the law after an altercation with a royal guard that turned deadly. We'd been helping her, evading bounty hunters, and were holed in an inn, planning to stow in a ship overseas the following morning and escape to another continent. Late in the night, however, I awoke to find that Paola was no longer asleep beside us and assumed she must have gone to relieve herself. When she didn't return, I woke my other guildmate Landon and set out to find her, and find her we did. She was dead, and none other than Aerefyr stood beside her out of breath, furiously shuffling through her papers. I didn't know who he was at the time, but I could guess his occupation."

"Fyr killed her?"

"It appeared so, yes. I saw her blades on the ground and his sheathed. Like I said, he was out of breath, so they must have struggled. Landon saw red as soon as he realized what had happened, and he ran in there like a maniac. I hid back in the shadows, too stunned to do anything else, and watched Fyr pull out a blade and strike the boy down effortlessly. Until then I had never known a bounty hunter to kill anyone other than their bounties, and even that was rare. You get more for a live subject, usually. I'll admit, I was young and naive, but it still disturbed me. It may have been self defense, but the chill in that man's eyes as he killed...that was not the look of a man of empathy or remorse. There were other ways he could have defused the situation, but he chose to kill."

I myself think back to how much killing Fyr had actually performed in front of me without so much as a grimace. Sure, it was against bandits who'd just as quickly kill us, but...

"So what happened then?"

"Well, he hoisted Paola over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and left Landon there dead in the grass. That's the last I ever saw or heard of her. I suppose a lowly murderer such as her wouldn't get much post-mortem attention anyways, and he was surely pleased with his reward." His voice drips with spite.

"Is that why you don't like to kill?" I wonder, thinking back to how he has only ever incapacitated when he had a choice.

"No, no. I have my own reasons."

I nod, wondering if he'll delve into them, but he doesn't.

"So...he has no idea you saw?"

"As far as he knows, there were no living witnesses." He sighs. "I am really not one to judge when it comes to life-or-death situations, and I can't claim to know what went on before I got outside. But what I know from what he did to Landon is that he is a man to kill without hesitation, if it suits him. And due to his status and reputation with law enforcers around both major continents, he's untouchable. Anyone would take the word of a loyal, decorated bounty hunter over a thief."

I sit and think on that deeply, sipping water and frowning.

"He has a code, though, right?" I finally consider. "I mean, if he didn't, he'd be just like the people he hunts. And he doesn't do that. You yourself said that Paola was wanted for murder."

"Well of course, he isn't stupid," James winks at me. "However, he has the capacity to be extremely dangerous. You cross him the wrong way, he could kill you and make up whatever story he wants. And his credentials would enable him."

"Just because someone has the capacity to be evil doesn't mean—"

"Ava, you asked why I don't trust him, and I told you. I believe he is dangerous, plain and simple. We could debate the minutia of it all day, but it wouldn't change the overall fact that he is both prone to—and guilty of—dangerous behavior."

I don't know why I'm fighting so hard to defend him. I don't really know him, and I shouldn't feel this emotionally invested. I don't know James, either, but at least he talks to me, I guess.

"Fair enough," I give, leaving it at that.

James stands, mounts up, and helps me onto the horse wordlessly. We're both deep in our own thoughts, and we choose not to talk for now as we set off toward the mountains.

The following two days are uneventful and exhausting. The first night, we rode until we reached a small village at the base of the mountains full of dwarves with pale grey skin. We slept there for about six hours and then began our trek on foot up the mountains. James left the horse behind at the stables there; apparently it was more of a rental. We took a path that wound up the side, through tunnels and over misty ledges for nearly an entire day until we happened upon a familiar sight: the gates of Ironforge.

This time, thanks to James, we were granted entry. We stayed overnight in the same inn we'd been in when we first met, although this time around was quite different. There was no dwarven ale, and no nudity. We were so exhausted from travel that we passed out nearly the second we hit the blankets.

We barely spoke in two days, which was surprising to me, knowing James. Along the way, he seemed deep in thought most of the time, and when we did talk, it was about what was happening in the moment. Need-to-know sort of things, such as, 'Don't lean too far over that edge,' and 'Keep your voice low; orcs are known to patrol the area,' and so forth.

I've never seen an orc, but when I asked him what they are, he chuckled and gave a simple explanation: a fierce people with thick skin and excessive testosterone. I mentally made a comparison to an ex-boyfriend of mine.

As of now, though, James has taken me on what's basically a subway with no walls or safety of any kind, and by the time it stops after a few hours, my legs are so unsteady that I nearly can't walk. A number of other people have come along as well in other cars, and they all file toward an exit. James and I follow suit, with me quietly falling in line behind him. I've seen so many more unusual types of people, each one gathering his and her own healthy dose of staring from yours truly. They all have their own quirks and mannerisms; each not acting entirely human. The blue ones with tails flick them like cats while they talk, more or less depending on their tone.

We exit the tunnel, surfacing into a stone-lined street with double-storied buildings all around us. The streets are full of carts and merchants, and the smell of smoke and soot thicken the air. Voices and the sounds of metal on metal fill my ears, and it takes me a moment to realize James is trying to get my attention.

"What?"

"Grab onto my arm so I don't lose you," he says a bit louder.

I do as he says, and he quickly guides me along through rows and rows of streets, passing shops and blacksmiths, armorsmiths and the like. Sunlight pours in overhead, filtering through the smoky air in a golden haze. It's warm here, a massive difference from the snowy chill of Ironforge, and I struggle to roll up my sleeves with one free hand.

"Is this Stormwind?" I ask loudly enough to be heard.

"Aye. We've got to head across town."

I wonder to myself how big 'town' is, considering how huge it seems around me.

My question is belatedly answered when, at least an hour later, we've passed through multiple districts on different levels, over canals and through crowds, all the way into a large, open space with a spiraling tower in the center, surrounded by smaller shops and businesses. The air has cleared as we've descended through the city and is now fresh and pleasant. The district is peppered with sweet-scented, budding apple trees.

"Welcome to the mages' home," James smiles back at me. "And up ahead, the Blue Recluse. We're finally here."

The Blue Recluse, I learn shortly, is the name of another inn. One thing I have noticed about inns here is that they nearly always have massive bar sections, and they're almost always full of completely random, highly unusual types of people. Travelers, drifters, definitely not people who 'belong'.

My eyes scan the dingy, large space until they fall on a familiar face. Fyr. He saw me long before I saw him; he's walking to us, maneuvering past clumps of people. My feelings contradict themselves; I get this uncontrollable warmth at seeing his familiar face, as well as a warning flag.

Oh, this is going to be interesting indeed.

"I wasn't entirely sure you would actually escort her," Fyr addresses James. "Thank you."

This is probably the nicest thing I've ever seen Fyr say to the guy, and I balk, not even caring that my lips have parted open and I'm blatantly staring at him like he's grown horns.

"Anything to help the helpless," James smirks at my expression, and turns to Fyr. "You said we were meeting with someone?"

"Yes, I am taking her to see an archmage." Fyr doesn't elaborate further.

"When?"

"You aren't required to accompany us," Fyr tilts his head.

I feel a weird panic at the thought of James just leaving me here with Fyr and all this doubt and fear and uncertainty I have regarding him, but he interrupts my snowballing thoughts.

"No, I'll be there. I think I've earned my involvement. I'd like to see this through as much as you."

I catch a very subtle yet reassuring glance from James. He isn't leaving 'til he knows I am safe. Gratitude washes over me.

Fyr, who's been studying James's face with distrust, switches his attention to me for the first time, and immediately his liquid silver gaze drops to the thin chain underneath my collar.

"You have the amulet." He sounds surprised.

"Yes."

"Good. Has it helped?"

"Well, I haven't woken up on another continent yet."

Fyr's lips barely twitch at a smile, which I see more in his softened eyes. "Good." Then he hands me a key and a set of folded clothes, as well as my purse, which I'm relieved he's kept. "I've rented a suite up the stairs, to the right. It's the only red door. You have a room to yourself. Get settled in, and meet me down here when you are finished. We may be staying here more than a week."

Something about the way he's talking to me, although it seems genuine, also seems tense. Like he's a combination of tamer, calmer, and yet also putting on some sort of front. Maybe it's just my lack of trust getting the best of me, or maybe there's something going on here. But I don't show my unease.

"Thanks, Fyr," I smile, and as James heads to rent his own room, I scale the stairs.

My room is bigger than what we stayed in on the ship, but not by much. Still, though, it's my own space, something I've desperately needed. It has a bed, a lantern, a mirror, an actual toilet, a water basin, and a bath.

First thing I do is bathe, something I've come to seriously love and miss in my time here. A small cube of soap with a red ribbon tied to it (likely to represent that it's unused) rests on the sink, and I use that to scrub down. It doesn't take me more than ten minutes to cleanse and dry off, but it makes all the difference in my mood and my aching muscles.

The new clothes Fyr got me are almost perfectly fitting, thin, and soft. They smell fresh, and it's pure bliss as I slide the silky, black shirt over my clean olive skin.

I leave what little I own in a small clump in the corner of the room and lock the door, then descend the stairs while braiding my damp hair over my shoulder.

Fyr's exactly where he said he'd be, as is James, but they aren't really acknowledging each other's presence. Fyr is nursing a cup of what looks like green tea, and James has his water skin, and they're staring in opposite directions while sitting not three feet from each other.

Men.

I guess it's better than stabbing and poisoning. I can work with this.

They stand when they see me, and James lets out a wolf whistle for good measure. I roll my eyes, trying not to reward him with a smirk but failing.

We follow Fyr through the district, straight toward the tall spiraling tower. For a minute, I get excited, thinking we'll actually get to go inside it. It looks like a fairy castle.

But, unfortunately, Fyr stops just fifty feet from it underneath a tree clearing, in front of a silver-haired woman, and a man who looks...familiar.

"Lynne, I did not know you would be here as well," Fyr addresses the woman, who gives him a wordless nod of welcome. I glance at her, but then go right back to the guy. Robed and red-headed, I wrack my brain as to where I've seen him before. He's got silver in his hair and big beard, and long, silk robes of bright colors draping into the vivid green grass at our feet.

"Ah! Aerefyr. Glad to reunite so soon," the man reaches a hand out and shakes the elf's. Then he looks at me, and lifts his brows.

"And you! Did not expect our paths to cross again, I must say," he studies me a little harder than I would prefer. Eyes narrowing, I catch him glancing behind me as if worried, and then as soon as the concern was there, it's gone.

I open my mouth, but no words appear.

Fyr fills the silence. "Ferris performed the language charm on you that first night back in Feralas. We were lucky he was passing through."

"Oh!" I blurt. "Oh yeah! I thought you looked familiar. Thank you for that, by the way."

"From what I read in Aerefyr's letter, I am lucky the charm even worked the way it did, considering your native tongue is alien to me. Curious...makes me wonder what that might implicate..." the man trails off, looking suddenly very intrigued with his own thoughts and in another world. Then he suddenly looks back at me, and his eyes tense again like they did earlier. It's like he's seeing something no one else is seeing, and whatever it is isn't good. He turns and looks at the woman beside him, who gives him a quick nod, as if agreeing with him. Which doesn't help.

It's freaking me out, if I'm being honest, and it's all I can do to keep a straight expression and not fidget. I can't tell if he's a genius who can't keep his own thoughts contained, or insane. Maybe both. Then again, the lady just justified whatever he was thinking.

"Well, I suppose it's time to get down to it, then. Yes?" he hums, snapping back to normalcy. "First we'll test your magic to understand the extent of what we are dealing with, and then I'll discuss our next step."

I nod, unsure of what to do.

"This won't take more than a minute. Hold out your hands, please," he requests. "Palms-up."

I do.

Ferris and Lynne both set their hands on mine, and close their eyes. Ferris mutters some nonsense gibberish under his breath.

Suddenly I feel a jolt, like my magic has all come to life at once. The amulet around my neck feels cold on my skin, colder with each second of my magic intensifying, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. It glows soft pink through the black fabric of my shirt.

They both recoil their hands at the same time, like they'd just touched an electric fence, and Lynne speaks for the first time. Her voice is calm, despite what she says.

"How is that possible?" she wonders aloud.

Ferris shakes his head. "Are you sure you feel alright, lassie?"

"I'm fine, all things considered." That last part is mumbled.

Ferris sends a worried glance at Fyr, and then masks it quickly.

"Erm, Miss Warner, I would like to have a word with Aerefyr. We've completed the necessary test, and you are free to go."

"What's wrong?" I push.

"Nothing, lass. Nothing to worry about. I just...need to speak with him regarding a different matter. You and your friend may head back to where you are staying."

I glance at Fyr, and he sends me a soft nod. It'll be fine, his expression hints.

Then I look at James, who has already turned and started walking back to the Blue Recluse. I'm beyond curious, and it's getting the best of me. But they're obviously waiting for us to leave, so I grudgingly turn and catch up with James.

As soon as we're out of earshot and past a large apple tree, James grabs my arm.

"Ava. Do you know your way back?"

I nod.

"Good. I'm going to circle back and eavesdrop. They won't see me." He slips a small black skeleton key into my hand. "Key to my room. Number 7, first floor. Wait for me there, and I will relay whatever I hear. Okay?"

I nod quickly, and he slips away, around the tree, and then suddenly I don't see any of him anymore.

I turn and hurry back to the inn. Within five minutes, I've found James's room and slipped in, situated myself on the corner of his bed, and now begun to wait.

As I stare at the floorboards, I feel a soft chill seep over my skin, and recognize it just in time to prepare myself for when a shadowy figure appears about two feet in front of me. It's not James; it's someone else.

I swallow a yelp and gather my bearings. The spirit boy. What is it about this kid that his presence alone gives me this undeniable uneasiness? It's like he radiates fear. My fight or flight kicked in before I even saw him, for god's sake.

Maybe it's just all in my head.

He pulls out the parchment, and then it hovers in front of me.

We're out of time, it reads in elegant but rushed script.

"What?" I sit forward.

What they're discussing out there... I don't know how, but Fyr knows. He knows you know what he's done. And those mages are not going to be able to help you in time. We have to act. Now. They've figured out what he is, and they're going to try to stop him, and he's going to kill them. He will kill your friend, too. And then he will come for you.

"How? What can we even do?" I start to panic. Does that explain why Fyr has been so...off since I got back?

You must remove that amulet, and let it channel into my spell.

I hesitate. "For what?"

I can free myself with your power. That will give me enough strength to open a doorway back to your world. Free me, and I will repay you by sending us both home.

My hesitation begins to break with the urgency that I can see in the boy's eyes, as well as in the wording. Is this true? Is Fyr going to kill those people? What James said about him... what if that's true too? What if he's truly dangerous, and this spirit is my only chance?

Ava, the paper scribbles out quickly. No time! We must do this now!

My heart has jumped into my throat, and I can hear it pounding in my ears. My hands shake. The ache I feel for home overpowers almost everything else I'm feeling, besides terror.

"O-okay," I stutter, taking the amulet off and setting it on the bed beside me, "Wh-what do I do?"

A series of words appear on the parchment that I do not understand.

Sound them out, it says beneath them.

I lick my lips and hesitate again. What if this is a mistake? I need to think rationally-

AVA WARNER! The word explodes in huge lettering, startling me even more and scattering me. NOW. HE IS COMING.

I inhale sharply, eyes wide. "Iks sa'vageth, xan ha'ash ve sath'hassakar," I sound slowly, feeling sort of like I'm channeling Parseltongue.

My magic centralizes into my chest; not my heart, but above, more in the middle of my sternum, under my throat. It's working, and it doesn't feel bad. On the contrary, for the first time, I feel like I'm truly in control of this magic. I feel like I have power, and I'm going home.

Another phrase appears on the page, in large print, and I take a deep breath and say the words as clearly as I can.

"Ered'nash havik yrthog!"

The final word explodes from my throat like a jet breaking the sound barrier. I'm thrown backward with such force that I hurl into the wall behind me.

My chest hits first, I hear a crack of my ribs, and my thoughts go dark as my head crunches against the wood.