The goblin’s glassy eyes flickered, and daggerlike teeth smiled at me. It had spiderlike legs that were folded in on each other. It moved forward toward me, stretching one of its arms.

  I stumbled back, bumping into Tevin.

  “Ah! Come on, Erik, we gotta go, what are you—” Tevin stopped mid-sentence looking at the approaching goblin.

  My mouth went dry when a second pair of arms emerged from the shadows. The goblin crawled toward us like a twisted spider, grinning the whole time.

  “Goblin!” Silas shouted next to me.

  It leaped before I could respond. Instinctively, I threw my arms up, bracing for a brutal impact.

  Instead of pain and teeth and claws, I felt myself being pulled. A hand gripped my collar and yanked me backward, dragging me across the dirt. Silas let out a startled yelp as he was pulled too.

  “Move it! Move it!” Tevin roared while hauling both of us away from the monster.

  A sharp whistle sliced overhead. Hopsander’s silver rope dart slammed into the goblin’s face, and it dropped with a wet gurgle. I caught the frog-man winking at us before he charged into the thick of battle.

  Silas and I scrambled up, following Tevin as we fled the chaos. “Thanks for that!” I called over the pounding of my heart.

  “Yeah, you saved our skins,” Silas added, still trembling.

  Tevin gave a thumbs-up.

  Huh, I guess they have that gesture here too, I thought.

  “Can’t have a goblin eating my new best friend,” Tevin yelled. “Or his friend!”

  Silas and I both looked at each other, confused. I shrugged my shoulders and kept on running.

  We caught up with the others after fifteen minutes. Silas and I nearly collapsed when we reached everyone. Clearly, neither of us had trained for long-distance running.

  Lucius looked over at us doubled over and catching our breath. “Huh, I would have lost a bet, then. I could have sworn you two were going to die back there.”

  “Shut . . . up . . . you . . . dick,” I said in between breaths.

  The group clustered at a narrow rope bridge stretched across the canyon. Laska stood near the entrance.

  “One at a time. Don’t look down.” A hush fell over the group as we all braced ourselves for crossing.

  Mel wasted no time, rushing boldly onto the swaying rope. Sora followed soon after, crossing with surprising ease—then her sister, Rinka, who trembled so badly she almost froze halfway.

  “You can do it!” Sora called from the far side.

  “No, I—I can’t!” Rinka’s voice shook. “Just go on without me!”

  “Oh, burning hells, if it’s not one twin, it’s the other,” Lucius muttered. “You want to be eaten by goblins?”

  “Leave her alone,” Zenobia said coldly. “She’s trying her best. She needs encouragement.”

  Lucius scoffed. “Hmph. What she needs is logic. Cross, survive. Don’t, die.”

  Unfazed, Zenobia shouted calming instructions at Rinka.

  “Hey! It’s Rinka, right? Listen, the boards are close together. You can just shuffle your feet to get across. Look up, watch the moons, and hold the ropes. Just breathe in and out!”

  Rinka, hands shaking, obeyed. Inch by inch, she reached the far side and collapsed.

  Slowly, we all crossed. Some of us used Zenobia’s advice to calm our nerves, while others just strode across. Regardless, thanks to her, she was able to help with the fear of heights for those who needed it. The girl stood next to Sergeant Laska like a mini version of the Cinder, with both of them crossing their arms, looking over the group.

  Hopsander and Al joined us shortly after while the remainder of the goblins retreated into the forest. The two Cinders had held off a small army for us, yet they looked like they had barely broken a sweat. They trotted across the bridge, and after Hopsander stepped on the other side, he turned back and tossed some white powder across the wood. He nodded to himself and joined us.

  Did you see that, Fern? What was that powder? Some sort of protection alchemy? I asked.

  ‘Not sure, and are you going to ask me that every time you see something new?’ Fern said, annoyed.

  I rolled my eyes. I see how it is. When you come to Earth, no questions allowed.

  Fern ignored me, so I took in the sights while we were safe. On the new side of the canyon, the scenery was drastically different. There was no dense forest; there was hardly any plant life at all. Gray dust and dead trees stretched across a desertlike expanse. The endless lines of bleached, leafless trunks resembled skeletal guards.

  “We’ll set camp down that road,” Laska announced, and we all started walking after her.

  Laska led us to a towering behemoth of a dead tree. However, as we drew closer, I realized it wasn’t a real tree at all. It was a man-made wooden structure to camp in. There was even leftover firewood and bedrolls from previous Cinders who had camped here before. White wooden planks had been bent and nailed together to form a massive, hollow trunk—large enough to hold us comfortably. We trudged inside, grateful to be out of the wind.

  Al and Hopsander spoke in hushed tones near the entrance. I overheard Al joking, “Back-to-back monster attacks . . . Talk about rotten luck for poor Laska.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “She does attract misfortune,” Hopsander muttered, half amused.

  “Let’s hope the rule of three doesn’t hit us again.” Al clapped the frog-man’s shoulder.

  Laska heard them, her jaw tightening. She sank down in the middle of the hollow trunk, near a long-dead campfire ring. She grabbed some leftover wood stacked in a corner and started building a small fire.

  Those of us who had nearly collapsed from exhaustion—myself included—crumpled around the space. Laska counted heads, satisfied. “All nine recruits present,” she said. “We’re safe here. Rest.”

  The day’s madness replayed in my mind: lichwolves, goblins, and the unstoppable might of our escorts. It felt unreal that they supposedly lacked magic yet performed superhuman feats. That fact made me more excited to get to Ash and to train to be a Cinder.

  My thoughts of having incredibly icy magic weapons like Laska broke off at a sharp chirp.

  “CREEE!”

  Al strode in from outside, leading Goro and Gora, the two enormous beetles from before. They chirped happily, antennae wiggling.

  “They climbed a long way to get back up here,” Al said, patting Goro’s horn. “But these beasts are tougher than steel.”

  Tevin’s eyes lit up. The tall boy stood and ran over to them. He stood eye to eye with the beetles and began gently petting them as he admired their shells. Mel gave a small laugh. “Heh, the big guy sure doesn’t act how he looks at all!”

  Zenobia, seated by the fire, nodded. “He loves creatures.”

  Tevin continued to admire Goro and Gora while the rest of us settled in and began to eat.

  Laska herself sat near the fire and tore into food when Silas walked up to her, fidgeting with his small metal cube. “Is it really all right to camp now? Goblins just attacked us. Won’t more or something worse come next?”

  Laska shot him a confident grin. “We have our gadgets and contraptions to keep us safe. The captain spread some pillardust, which will repel any threats trying to sneak up on us. And before you ask, don’t worry about the details. You’ll learn soon enough at Ash.”

  Pillardust?

  ‘Don’t.’

  I’m not gonna ask, Fern. Damn. Can’t a guy have some inner thoughts?

  Curiosity sparked among the rest of the group, but Laska switched topics. “That’s enough talk. We leave in five hours. Sleep.”

  As if on cue, the titan-beetles began cooing, a soft, musical hum. Goro and Gora settled off to one side of the trunk, wings shifting. Al motioned for us to stay quiet. Even Laska stood, hands on her hips. “They’re doing this now? Can’t they wait until we get there?” she murmured.

  “Let my babies do what they do,” Al whispered. “Everyone watch. The dance of eggs.”

  Their coos grew louder, the enormous black shells rocking in a slow, hypnotic sway. Gora’s wings lifted, revealing pearl-like orbs—eggs—and Goro angled his own wing to receive them. The moonlight cast through the tree trunk’s top, illuminating the dance as the beetles’ translucent underwings flared.

  Eggs rolled gently from Gora to Goro. Then Gora’s rounder body changed—spikes sprouted along her head. Meanwhile, Goro’s horn flattened into a shield-like shape.

  “She’ll guard him and the eggs until they hatch,” Al explained proudly. “By the time you start classes, it may have already happened, so you’ll see baby titan-grubs soon, and then baby beetles!”

  Finally, the pair of insects finished their ritual, leaning together with a final coo. Laska settled back onto the ground with a sigh.

  “I won’t repeat myself: rest,” she said.

  Exhausted, I dropped onto my pack, using it as a pillow. Silas flopped next to me, eyes half lidded. Everyone else did likewise, except Tevin, who placed his only blanket on Goro’s back for the unborn eggs. When we shot him curious looks, he just grinned.

  “It’s for the babies,” he said.

  Al chuckled softly, flashing him a thumbs-up.

  I jolted awake hours later. Silas was shaking me, panic replaced by mild urgency. “Erik, get up. We’re leaving soon.”

  I sat up, rubbing the grit from my eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Not as well as you,” Silas teased. “You snored like a dying goat.”

  I groaned, standing to dust off my clothes. “I guess I was exhausted.”

  Across the hollow trunk, Laska’s voice rang out: “On your feet, recruits! We’ve got ground to cover.”

  We shuffled outside. Al already stood with Goro and Gora, who twitched their antennae at the thin morning air. Hopsander placed a webbed hand on my shoulder, explaining that the beetles sensed danger ahead, so they’d lead us through a different path.

  Tevin lurked by them, enthralled. He hardly noticed the twins nearby whispering about how sweet he acted around the beetles.

  Within minutes, we set off down a rough path. Hours passed, and the twin moons had given way to a harsh sun, scorching the gray dust underfoot. The landscape stretched on in dreary hills, packed with small holes and scattered boulders. It felt like I was walking on the surface of a planet pelted by meteorites. Thankfully, with the beetles leading the way, we avoided treacherous holes and potential trouble.

  Unfortunately though . . . this continued on for a week. A grueling, exhausting week of walking eighteen hours a day and sleeping six. We were running low on supplies, but Laska was confident we would make it to Ash before we ran out. On the seventh day though, when the sun was scorching our necks overhead, the whole group was silent, and Laska’s once constant encouragement was missing. No one spoke a word, except Al or Tevin who would talk to the titan-beetles. The whole time on the journey, the massive shadow towered in the distance like a giant god watching us weave our way through its garden.

  Why is everyone so down? I asked Fern. Yeah, the heat sucks, and our legs are nearly raw from walking so much, but the beetles have helped us avoid danger, and as long as these hotshot Cinders are confident, I’m gonna hold on to hope that we will make it there.

  ‘Hope? That must be nice to believe in. Tell me, Erik, what’s that like? You ask why everyone is so quiet? It’s because we know when death is close. We’ve seen other voidbloods be killed. We’ve seen what starvation looks like, and we can tell when the reaper is lingering nearby.’ For a teen, Fern sounded like a beaten-down man, but, given his life, I couldn’t exactly blame him.

  Fern continued. ‘We have faced constant abuse every day since we were ten years old, Erik. You’ve only experienced one day in our shoes. Now we are forced to play into the king’s games and journey through this place where monsters roam, and we have no way to fight back, just like how we’ve lived our whole lives. Honestly, I bet the others are thinking what I am thinking. That this is all some sort of sick joke the monarchy set up to kill a few young voidbloods. We don’t have hope, we are tired.’

  A wave of guilt washed over me. My own trauma with my parents was legitimate, but these kids had known real horrors their whole lives.

  I wanted to help them like I wanted to help Noah.

  I vowed silently to try to protect them as well. We’d need each other’s support to survive, especially if I ever wanted to find my brother. Forging strong bonds, coupled with the memory of Laska’s glowing eyes and magic sword, reminded me there was a path to power. I decided that by carefully cultivating my strength as well as strengthening relationships with these kids, I might have a chance at finding Noah and getting my body back.

  “Look!” Silas shouted, jolting me from my thoughts. He pointed ahead, where mountains rose in the distance. Beyond them stood the same mountain-dwarfing shadow I had been watching earlier. However, the fog had cleared now and we could begin to see more details.

  The giant marvel was made of stone. It was miles wide, almost covering the whole horizon, and tall too, climbing high into the sky. It quite literally pierced the heavens.

  Laska let out a short laugh. “That’s Baldred’s Pillar. Lucky pillar number thirteen!”

  Hopsander looked like he wanted to elaborate to us, but a deafening roar cut him off. The ground shook beneath us, and a distant silhouette stirred. One of those mountains unfurled, lifting a long neck skyward. My breath caught in my throat as the huge form stepped, each movement rattling the earth.

  THUD.

  “That’s . . . not good,” Hopsander said, glancing warily at Laska. “We woke the ol’ girl.”

  Laska cursed softly, her hand drifting to the hilt of her sword. “The guardian of the Ash Mountains. The Grootslang.”

  The towering beast rumbled closer, an ancient reptilian giant crossing the horizon in slow, mighty strides. Even from a mile away, the vibrations set my teeth on edge.

  Al threw a grin at the beetles. “Time to run, then, eh?”