The Last Spell 46.1

“Shane?”

Shane peeked one eye open, then the other, staring at his window and trying to determine how the Crystal City skyline had gotten there. A glance around at his old apartment told him it belonged. What he couldn’t figure out was why he felt like he was supposed to be somewhere else.

He sat up on the couch, slowly stretching out his arms and blinking until his vision came back into full focus. Something was wrong with the sky.

“Shane?” his dad called again from somewhere in the apartment. “Are you up yet?”

Saints, it was bright out. He hadn’t missed the speech, had he? He’d set an alarm and everything. Shane cursed quietly, jumping to his feet.

“Working on it!” he called back, standing in front of the television for a second before turning around to scan the couch for the remote.

His dad chuckled, a warm sound Shane couldn’t forget if he had a hundred years to try. “Take your time, kiddo.”

Despite his words, Shane couldn’t help but feel like he was racing against some silent clock, pushed by some silent urgency as he checked between couch cushions. He’d gotten some time zone conversion wrong, or just plain overslept. It was the latter, probably. Shane could do math just fine, but he’d never been a morning person, especially the day after a paper’s deadline.

“I can’t find the remote,” Shane said, turning to the coffee table and pushing aside his communicator, which he must’ve took off his wrist before passing out. All his textbooks were out, too, spread open to various important pages and making it harder to search. He could probably quote them all from memory if he had to.

“Don’t worry about it,” his dad assured him, and his voice suddenly sounded closer. Much closer. “You won’t need it.”

Shane paused in his search, frowning as he dropped his gaze to his communicator. He could’ve sworn his voice was coming from there— but at the same time he thought it, a faint memory of the two of them calling each other just the night before came back to mind. Had that happened?

“But the broadcast…” he started to say.

His dad let out a hearty laugh— yep, he was definitely on a call with him right now. “You want to see it live, right? Just take a look outside.”

Shane slowly turned his head back to the window. With a start, he realized that the skyline had changed— but it was no less familiar. Where the towering glass spires of Crystal City had just stood, the skyscrapers had made way for a view of the Summer Palace— another thing he felt like he’d just seen.

He couldn’t explain the thought he had of This isn’t how it went at all.

Suddenly cold, he picked up the communicator and went for the sliding door next to the window, stepping out onto the balcony.

He smelled the smoke right away, but he couldn’t see it. After a few seconds of frantically checking the buildings at eye level, searching for a fire, he looked down. Directly below his balcony, three body bags were laid out on the sidewalk, all zipped up. A siren for an ambulance that wasn’t there rang in his ears as his fingers gripped the railing tightly.

“I asked.” That voice wasn’t his dad’s— and it wasn’t coming from his communicator, either. “You’re not worth the extra ten million.”

Shane whirled to see Cyrin leaning against the railing, arms folded over his chest. His pose was laidback, effortless with that enviable elegance of his, but his eyes were cold as he met Shane’s gaze.

“Think of it like a generous deal,” Cyrin went on. “Buy two, get one free.”

Shane didn’t want to look back down, but he did. One of the body bags was… shifting. In horror, he watched as it unzipped an inch, then another, before a hand slipped out, reaching upwards as if it were trying to escape its temporary grave— or pull him in with it.

He didn’t know he should be screaming when Cyrin grabbed him from behind and threw him over the edge.

~ ~ ~

Shane flinched awake. Actually awake.

He still felt like he was falling from the way his stomach plummeted as he sat up in his bunk. Then the world tilted slightly to one side, and the feeling wasn’t just from the dream anymore. If he’d been any less exhausted, he’d have never been able to fall asleep on this boat. The waves of the Kejvan Ocean were harsh this time of year, even with Mireya’s expertise at the helm.

Shane closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. He remembered those dreams, all of them more vivid than they deserved to be, like his mind had decided he needed more in the way of torture. They’d been regular for a while, and had slowly died down to be fewer and farther between. He hadn’t thought of that as him getting better, but he had the looming feeling now that overnight, something had just gotten worse.

Fighting off the seasickness— and the part of him that wanted to hide in this room for the rest of his life— Shane got to his feet.

The cabin he and Leilan had fallen asleep in was tight and without luxury, but he didn’t care— he’d barely taken a look at it before passing out. Weak, cloudy daylight was filtered out by curtains covering a porthole. At the door, Shane glanced back to see if Leilan was still in the upper bunk. He wasn’t. On any other day, that would’ve meant nothing, but the sight of it made Shane’s heart ache.

He had to find his friend.

The door creaked as Shane opened it. The hallway outside was so narrow that his shoulder bumped the wall when he stepped through, and even though he’d never been the claustrophobic type, he felt some relief when he turned to take the stairs up to the main deck.

He could hear the crashing of waves against the hull before he saw them. When he emerged, the sea was a choppy black color under the blinding gray light of the clouded sky, without a patch of land in sight. The sight was breathtaking, even with the monotony in color, but Shane found himself frowning as he stared out at the horizon. Without the sun, it was impossible to tell what time of day it was, because he’d turned off his communicator before boarding like the rest of them. In the chaos of the night before, the Houses wouldn’t have noticed them leave, and they couldn’t let that head start go to waste by getting tracked.

Flint had to be losing his mind over their absence. Had he listened to Shane? Had he gotten out of there safely?

Shane shook the thought away, rounding the ship’s bridge to make his way to the port side— then froze.

Cyrin was at the railing, turned away from him so he couldn’t see his face. Like Shane, he was still in the same clothes as last night, and the bloody handprints on his back looked like wings over his shoulder blades. He didn’t seem to have noticed Shane, lost in thought and staring ahead at the waves like there was something out there he needed to find.

It wasn’t too late to leave.

Shane took a step back. But the boat betrayed him, creaking under his feet.

Cyrin spun around, looking startled, until their gaze landed on Shane and their expression shifted into fear. It wasn’t an expression that looked right on their face. At the very least, it wasn’t an expression Shane thought he could provoke. It was also one he felt annoyed to see.

A moment of tense silence passed, and finally, Cyrin opened their mouth to speak. But Shane really wasn’t interested in hearing whatever was the first thing to come to their mind right now.

“Where are the others?” he asked sharply.

He hated the regret he felt from the hurt that flashed over their face.

“Mireya’s getting some rest,” Cyrin said quietly. “She showed Kaja the ropes on how to steer the ship in the meantime. Dawn is watching over Kasumi. Leilan is… I don’t know. Somewhere downstairs, I would guess.”

Shane resisted a grimace. This wasn’t the person who shoved him over the edge in his dream.

But they were a killer.

“Right,” he murmured, and immediately wished he’d thought of something else to say, because that awful silence was back.

Cyrin nodded slightly, looking down at the deck. Shane could read the sleeplessness on their face; their eyes were hollow with an emotion he couldn’t name, but had seen in himself many times.

“Flint made it out safe,” Cyrin said. “He’s back at your House.”

Shane blinked. “How do you know?”

“Radio.” Cyrin took a deep breath, leaning back against the railing. “It may be old-fashioned, but the news still comes from there, and it won’t get us caught. Which is good, because the rest of the news is that a global manhunt is underway.”

Shane turned his head. The waves were still dark and empty of other boats, receding into the unknown.

“There’s nowhere to go,” he said.

Cyrin shook his head. “There’s always a way out.”

“We’re floating in the middle of the ocean,” Shane said plainly. “They’ll check land, air, and sea. The only places we wouldn’t be immediately turned in are the Arcade and the Gallery, but we can’t go back to Starlight City, and we’d never make it through the Keravara mountains to Crystal City, let alone be able to sail all the way to Central. You’re just saying that because you don’t want to admit we’re at a dead end.”

Cyrin sighed softly, looking back up at Shane. “I’m not that delusional. I know the odds are stacked against us. But we might be able to seek help.”

Shane let out a quiet scoff. “Help? Who’s going to help us?”

Cyrin frowned uncomfortably, and Shane could tell he wished someone else was around for this conversation. But no one was here to rescue him.