Page 196 of The Order

“Your eyes are like fire,” he mutters incoherently.

Looking at my reflection in his eyes, I see my glowing irises.

Even with that other part of me, my strength is not enough.

“Forest, what do we do?” Hunter questions in a panic, coughing once more, unable to get another word out.

“I need to give Fallan some of my blood,” I begin, ready to slice my palm. “It's the only way he can recover enough so we can keep moving and get somewhere safe,” I continue, looking around frantically for something sharp.

Dizzy and unnerved, I sift through the dirt.

“Then what? You both drag Kai through the ash?” Hunter questions. I was irritated by his tone.

“It's either that or die out here, suffocated by ash! Now, stop talking and find me a rock I can cut my hand with,” I snap, his hand wrapping around my wrist.

Finally opening his eyes, Fallan moves me closer, his head barely raised as he scans my expression.

“Does he know?” Fallan questions, my head shaking uncontrollably. His eyes roll back seconds later, his hand letting go and falling limp at his side. I lean over his chest, distraught to find his heartbeat becoming weaker. My panic is now nothing short of a full-fledged hysteria. Digging through the ground, I finally turn behind me when I continue to come up empty-handed.

“God damn it, Hunter-”

I pause; my throat dry, unable to find the words.

Valerie, Hunter, and Kai remain still, each one of them face down in the Earth, their bodies encased in something ethereal, the ash on their skin giving way to delicate tendrils of power that shimmer with a faint, spectral glow. Circling them in pulsating movements, thick white smoke breaches the air, silently filling our noses in orderless waves. Looking around, I try to make out a figure, my eyes unable to adjust to the polluted air around us.

“Fallan?” I begin, shaking him as hard as I can.

He remains still; his heart unable to support him in his current state.

“You're okay!” I yell, turning back to beg my companions to help me with him.

Standing in the fog, the smoke plumes around a group of unknown figures. Long, thick leather coats trail down their bodies. Their feet are shod in sturdy, metal-toed boots meant to protect against the hidden hazards beneath the ash. They wear gas masks, concealing their faces. Their hoods remain up, making it even harder to distinguish them. Slowly, I push myself up to stand in front of my companions, my foot back, braced to defend my brother, Fallan, and our friends against whatever attack comes next.

“One of them is still awake,” a female voice says, their gloved hand pointing to me, amusement lingering in her tone.

“I'd say she’s probably the Marked he told us to be mindful of,” another voice mutters, a male voice much older than anyone in our group.

“Wasn't there supposed to be two Marked in their huddle? Why is she the only one up?” the female voice questions, my knees shaking as I finally allow myself to give in to my fatigue.

“Marked or not, the gas should have taken her out,” the older male voice pushes, looming closer to me, but my body is too weak, and I stumble forward.

Looking behind him to the last masked figure in the group, I find a pair of familiar eyes.

“Aaron?” I question the image of Valerie's fiery-haired cousin filling my mind.

“Are you sure these are the people Elyon wants from that cesspool you call a society?” the older male asks, Aaron’s head slowly nodding.

“They are right where Fallan promised they’d be,” Aaron starts, his eyes darting to me. “Now, are you done questioning me so I can get myfamilythe medical attention they need?” Aaron questions angrily.

Grasping the older male's pant leg, I try to force him away from me, letting my hand clasp Fallan’s still one.

Faint, but there, his energy weakly moves through him.

I sense the man's smile hiding beneath the mask as he glances down at me.

“A lot of people have put their lives on the line to ensure you made it to us,” the man says, cocking his head as he speaks. Reaching beneath his coat, he raises the back of a long-barreled gun, one much larger than any pistol I’ve ever seen.

“Welcome to the resistance, Ms. Blackburn,” he begins. “Sadly, you haven’t earned enough of my trust to get to stay awake.”

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