Women in the small kingdom of Aeriana are disappearing.
Iris Daniels, a budding painter in the East Territory, is trying to keep her head down. In a kingdom filled with abilities, music, and Destined love, Iris is determined to build a career out of...
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"Welcome To: Our Final Night."
—Alisha Bonn, Winter Showcase Dance Title, Rayne Academy
The shooting began.
Iris flinched and dropped to the cold ground. The front of her hoodie stuck to her stomach, but she ignored it. She tried to bury herself deeper into the dark mud. Carved herself out a place among the dying fall crops. Curled herself into a ball.
Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears. Her breaths matched her pulse until she was gasping for breath.
She tucked herself down and put her arms over her head.
Bang. Bangbang. Bang.
What happened if they ran out of bullets?
Iris whimpered.
Someone yelled in pain. Brakes groaned.
She tucked herself tighter. Then—
"IRIS!"
A vehicle was getting louder.
Iris dared to uncurl her frame just enough to peek. Only to find some type of all-terrain vehicle making a wide circle over in her direction.
The crops around her were too thick to roll over, which left her two options: she could get up and run in the other direction, which automatically gave away her position. Or she could crawl as fast as she could on her hands and knees and hope she was both fast enough and low enough they wouldn't see her.
She picked option two, slipping and sliding her way through the mud. Pieces of hardened straw and grain dug into her gloves and knees. Muscles and throat burning, she put herself far right, trying to get away as best she could.
The vehicle turned its brights on.
Bang. Bang.
The sound of glass shattering mixed with the roar of an engine firing as it struggled to switch gears. Iris didn't dare look. Or think about anything other than the vehicle taking a lap around the area of the plane.
The wind pushed and pulled at her hair and clothes, yanked at the corn around her. Your hair. Your hair, Iris.
With a whimper, she ducked down and brushed her muddy gloves over her purple locks, hoping to dull the lavender color. If those bright lights hit her, her hair would be easily spotted among the yellow and brown crops around her.
The vehicle roared closer.
And all she could think about was the plane crash. The young women who'd been killed in her stead. Her parents being kidnapped just for taking her in. And Wylan and Thad. Who'd risked their lives over and over to keep her safe.
