If I can kidnap Galilei and get the cure information, the Adelphoi can use it in the Real World. When I die, they’ll at least have something since they’re apparently too cowardly to try to save the dying citizens.

And right now, Luc is distracted. He wants to destroy the Adelphoi crew—children and all—so badly that he’ll leave Galilei vulnerable.

It takes a bit of searching to find a couple more rocks with threads of light in them. When I hold one, the warmth reaches through. It sends the same flare of excitement as a new dreamscape world idea used to. The desire to sit and create.

Though what I’m creating today is more out of necessity than passion. I send my thoughts into the stone and watch amazed as it morphs from stone to wood and stretches into sleek curves until it finally settles into a crossbow. It’s the closest thing to a gun in this world, and I think I’ll handle it okay.

Now for the arrows.

I want them made from nightmist so I can take out the nightbeasts surrounding the wheat field and Luc’s stingray, but they won’t form. No matter how much I direct my thoughts, the stone trembles in my hand but doesn’t change. I think of the wheat field and my shattered kris dagger.

I can’t create something with nightmist, not even to destroy nightbeasts. No nightmist is allowed here. The source of creation is different.

I’m asking it to war with itself, but it refuses.

So I form regular arrows, which means they’ll work only on people. I don’t want to shoot anyone, but if it’s the difference between Luc murdering children . . .

I purse my lips. I must have faith—despite my history with that word—that God will redirect me.

I make a quick quiver and fill it, load one arrow into the crossbow but don’t cock it, and take a deep breath before striding toward the drawbridge. The wood beneath my sandals is damp from morning dew, which feels achingly of the Real World. It makes it harder to leave this place, but to make sure Castle Ithebego and its residents survive, I need to abandon it.

A shadowed form emerges, having blended in with the drawbridge post on the edge of the moat. Erik. I swallow my disappointment over the flare of hope that it was Stranna.

“I’m coming with you,” he says.

A knot forms in my throat. It’s the first time I’ve felt something like brotherhood since losing Nole.

“Honestly, I’m not sure it will make a difference, Erik. It’s a suicide mission in the end. The question is whether I survive one hour or several.”

“I’m still coming.” He won’t actually die at the end of this. I think he’ll come back, and he’ll be able to keep helping Stranna and the kids. He and Stranna have been Adelphoi long enough that their resurrection power is secured. I’m the newbie who’s out of time.

“You need to stay here and fortify the castle.” I have to smile a little as those words pass my lips. Fortify the castle. I stand a little straighter, channeling my inner Aragorn. “Stranna can’t do it here alone.”

“She’s stronger than you think,” Erik states.

“She’s more afraid than you think,” I respond. “Luc’s tirones are gathering and preparing an attack. He’d be an idiot not to. And—if I fail—he’ll have the power of Galilei at his disposal, too. The kids need you. She’ll need you.”

That seems to get through. Erik sighs. “I understand what you were saying before, Cain. I get it.”

That lightens my heaviness somewhat.

Erik draws his Adelphoi sword and holds it out to me. “I think you should take this.”

I glance at my hands and look back up at him. “I can’t. It burns me, remember?” I’m not worthy.

He reluctantly sheathes the sword. It bumps a little in the sheath of its own accord, like it’s trying to move.

“What can I do?” he asks plaintively.

I take a breath. “I don’t know if this is the answer, so I’m telling you alone because you’ll think it through. Luc has built his empire here, and I think if power is taken from him, everyone can be freed.”

“That’s a pretty big if.”

It’s an if because of me. Because I wrecked the Adelphoi’s attempts to stop Luc and Galilei. I look directly at Erik. “If his tirones attack the castle and kill you, you should know Luc’s father is at Road 813 Northwest. He’s in a LifeSuPod.” I hesitate. “You could unplug it.”

Erik hisses in a breath, and I feel dirty for even suggesting it.

But I’m not Adelphoi. I do kill. Maybe that’s why I’m not one of them.

“It’s not fully plugged in,” I plow on, as if it’s an excuse. “I don’t think he knows that. Just the power cord. I ran out of time before I could arrange all the other tubes and things. I suspect he’ll fade over time anyway. But you could use it as leverage.”

Erik still hasn’t really responded. I shove my thumbs in my belt and only then do I realize my citizenship scroll isn’t there anymore. I must have lost it during one of the skirmishes.

“He’s likely already gained a lot of strength. Once he and Luc start working together . . . no one can stop their power.”

Erik nods.

I reach out my hand. “Thanks for everything. I mean that.”

He grasps my hand and shakes it. “Be careful out there.”

I laugh under my breath. “Right.”

He smiles, too, like we both know how useless the suggestion is. He surprises me by saying a quick prayer, and then he claps me on the back. With a sharp nod, we turn away from each other—him back to the castle and me toward the barrier.

When I reach it, the wheat field becomes clearer, like a lens bringing things into focus. It’s less rippled. I put a hand out to touch the barrier, and my fingers pass right through like going through a hologram. The only change I feel is a slight warmth from the wheat field that contrasts the coolness of this mystery land.

Thin threads of light spark around my wrist like they did around Heidi when she walked through that first time.

I take a breath and then a step. Nothing hinders me. The warmth of sunlight envelops my skin, and I resist the urge to sink down into the wheat and lie there with my eyes closed, pretending it’s a summer day. But then the sounds come.

Loud sniffs. Yaps. I open my eyes. The nightbeasts on the edge have noticed my presence. They’re thin and scattered. The skeleton of my dragon has become a haven for some sleeping nightbeasts, and their heads pop up and turn toward me as if I’ve made a noise.

I haven’t.

They smell me.

They sense me. Nightbeasts now come from the shadows all around, gathering and growing in number like a swelling flood. If I’m going to get out of this field alive, I need to make a run for it before they get too thick. I rest my hand on the crossbow for reassurance, but then remember I have no nightmist arrows. It’s useless against these creatures.

I break into a sprint. My heart pounds faster than my feet, and I try to match its rhythm with my pace, headed for the sparsest corner. My speed sends the nightbeasts baying and bounding toward my destination. On a whim, I yank some wheat stalks up by the roots.

Then I put on an extra burst and break through the field edge. I feint left then dart right all the while swinging the wheat stalks back and forth. A nightbeast lunges with teeth bared, but he ducks away from the whoosh of a wheat stalk. To my surprise, the other beasts seem hesitant, too, still chasing but not going in for the kill.

I keep running. They give chase. I’m losing energy and out of breath, but after several yards the nightbeasts must realize I’m not going to be a meal. Some slow. Some fall back. Then they suddenly start attacking each other and tearing one another’s flesh.

They resort to cannibalism because, while I hold this wheat—for whatever reason—they cannot touch me.

I dare to slow my pace, but not my vigilance with the wheat. They eye me from a distance, but the change in my pace does nothing to encourage them. Most have turned back to the wheat field already.