The last thing Toren Valcrest remembered was the scream of tires against wet asphalt and the blinding, unforgiving glare of high-beam headlights. Then, the world had folded into a crushing symphony of glass and steel.“Ugh... my head,” Toren groaned, his voice sounding thin and alien in the stillness. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the hot tang of copper and the jagged edge of pain. Instead, he felt nothing but the cool, dry kiss of a breeze that smelled faintly of ozone and old ash. “Wait. I’m not... I’m not dead?”He forced his eyes open. Above him, the sky wasn't the bruised gray of a rainy Tuesday in Seattle. It was a deep, swirling amethyst, bruised with streaks of charcoal clouds that moved too fast to be natural.“Okay,” Toren whispered, sitting up with a jolt. He patted his chest, his hands trembling. “Okay, chest is intact. Ribs feel... fine? How are they fine? I literally saw the engine block coming through the dashboard. I should be a human pancake right now.”He look

“Move,” Maelis commanded, her hand gripping the edge of Toren’s coarse tunic to pull him along without making skin-to-skin contact. “Before the sky decides to fall on us.”Toren stumbled after her, his bare feet slapping against the cold, shale-dusted ground. “The sky falling? Is that a literal thing here? Because back home, that’s just a metaphor for a really bad Monday.”“In this world, the sky is held up by the Pillar of Radiance,” Maelis said, her voice tight as she navigated a narrow path leading away from the valley. “If the Essence fails, the sky falls. It’s not a metaphor, Toren. It’s physics.”“Great. Just great. I’m a walking natural disaster,” Toren muttered.They crossed the ridge and descended into a dense thicket of trees that looked like they were made of spun silver and bioluminescent glass. The leaves didn't rustle; they tinkled like wind chimes. But as Toren passed a low-hanging branch, the silver turned to a dull, leaden gray. The leaves stopped shimmering and fell,

“Run! Go, go, go!” Darven’s voice was a guttural roar, barely audible over the sudden, violent whistling of the air.“Which way? Everything is glowing!” Toren yelled, his boots skidding on the gray shale as he scrambled toward the back exit of the cabin.“The mountain pass! Follow Lucan!” Maelis shoved him forward, her face illuminated by a terrifying, sickly gold light. “Don’t look back, Toren! Just keep your head down!”“A bit hard to do when the sky is literally screaming!” Toren ducked as a bolt of pure, white radiance slammed into the roof of the cabin behind them. The wood didn't catch fire; it simply ceased to exist, turned into a fine, glittering mist.“That was a warning shot!” Lucan shouted, leaping over a fallen silver log. “He’s toy-ing with us! Yurek loves a good chase before the execution!”“Can we skip the part where he enjoys himself?” Toren panted, his lungs burning. “Is there a 'no-chase' option? I’d like to speak to the manager of this apocalypse!”“Shut up and move

The air in the silver-wood mines tasted of ancient dust and crushed iron. Toren wiped his sleeve across his forehead, smearing gray grit over his skin as he hurried to keep pace with the rest of the group.Ahead of them, Lucan held a small, sputtering crystal lantern that cast long, dancing shadows against the rough-hewn stone walls. The glow was weak, barely piercing the heavy gloom of the descending tunnel.“We need to go faster,” Lucan hissed over his shoulder. He did not slow his stride. “Yurek’s hounds might have lost our scent in the scrub above, but once they hit the cavern vents, they’ll catch our track in an hour.”“An hour sounds remarkably generous compared to five minutes ago,” Toren panted. He stumbled slightly on a loose shard of shale. “Can we negotiate a slower pace for those of us who spent our previous life sitting behind a mahogany desk?”“Quiet, Toren,” Maelis warned from the middle of the line. She kept her bow raised, an arrow nocked and ready, her eyes scanning

Lucan’s sudden halt caused a minor pileup in the cramped tunnel. Darven grunted as his broad shoulders scraped against the rough stone ribs, steadying himself with an instinctive hand on the pommel of his belt.“Why are we stopping?” Darven asked, his voice low and cautious. “Did you hear something ahead?”“No,” Lucan whispered. He turned his head slowly, his eyes locked onto Toren.The ambient purple glow of the mineral vein embedded in the ceiling above cast strange shadows across Lucan’s weathered face. He looked down at the hand Toren had instinctively pressed against the cave wall to steady his breathing.“Lift your hand, Toren,” Lucan instructed, his tone eerily flat.“What? Why?” Toren blinked, glancing down at his fingertips pressed flat against the damp stone. “If I let go, I’m going to trip over my own boots again.”“Just do it,” Lucan insisted, his gaze sharpening.Toren cautiously pulled his palm away from the wall. The moment his skin broke contact with the rock, a sharp,