stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;

I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.

He had spun out of control, flung from one realm into the next, and her voice had been in his mind the whole time. Even when gravity had pulled too strong and he lost consciousness, Islas’s whisper was in his ear. And when the world around him began to shift into view and his body blossomed with pain, he heard her.

I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.

Tiercel groans from where he lies, bruised and bleeding. There are markings cut deep into the clay behind him as if a beast with long claws had gouged the earth, and they end with his body. This realm had sucked him in so aggressively he had flung from the sky and skidded across the ground, body limp from the ferocity of the portal’s pull. Tiercel winces at the sensation of breathing — with each inhale, a sharp pain flourishes in his left side. He can assume they are broken ribs, bones that have cracked under the pressure of landing.

I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.

Yet as he tries to stand, he realizes his injuries have not healed yet. He does not even feel the gentle warmth of his body healing itself; there is only sharp, dull, aching, shooting, burning pain. It is a pain of all kinds, and Tiercel is not entirely sure he has all the injuries that would warrant it. He can rise shakily to his legs, yet all four limbs feel as though they have been broken or bruised or lacerated or downright severed off. It’s enough to make him want to scream. It’s enough to make his eyes tear up, and the world blurs.

I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.

Tiercel blinks away the tears to see better, feeling his jaw clench tight as if it might help push away the pain. Wherever he is, it is bright. It is so much brighter than Beqanna — brighter than their normal days, even — that it makes his eyes burn, and he must squint. Yet the light is edged with darkness; tall, dark green trees grow on either side of him in perfectly-straight rows. They grow so close together that there is no way a single thing could travel between the trees, except for the trail he had landed on. And the forest is shrouded in darkness as thick as the eclipse, a stark contrast to the burning light from above.

I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.

Something tells Tiercel he needs to start moving. Whether it’s the endless pain or the song of Islas’s voice or the hunger and thirst that seems to eat at his insides — he takes one painful step forward. The ground is hard and unforgiving under his foot, a clay-like material colored an ink-black. The dunskin-and-navy follows his trail until it splits into two, and he takes the route to the right without much thought. Everything looks the same — tall trees, black clay, bright light, dark woods — and it feels like too much time and yet no time at all passes before he finds an opening in the trees.

I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.

There is a clearing, just as bright as the trails, but the sound of screaming is what draws him closer. It echos in his ears, playing its tune that contrasts with Islas’s voice, and Tiercel winces against it. His eyes first land on a floating being, massive and wispy with a hundred yellow eyes, and then on the winged mare. Her pale face is coated in layers of blood, and she gives Tiercel a panicked look before another scream leaves her mouth. At that moment, Tiercel notices the beating heart that sits on a pedestal made out of black clay.

I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.

A hundred eyes turn on him, and the pain intensifies until he feels like he might explode or wither or burst into flames. And within moments, his screams are matching the mare’s.

I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.