Konowa flexed his knee and followed after his men. The island was all but theirs. Everywhere he looked, rakkes lay dead on the ground and sarka har burned with frost fire. Now, finally, they could set sail for the Hasshugeb Expanse. Content, Konowa reached up a hand and patted the black acorn underneath his uniform tunic.

A white-hot needle of pain stabbed his heart and seared his hand.

He gasped and stumbled backward, falling to one knee. This was nothing he’d experienced before. He raised his saber in defense against the expected blow, but none fell.

He looked up. There was nothing around him. Sweat was beading on his forehead and his blood felt as if it was boiling inside his skin. The cold that normally infused him when using Her power was now replaced by a heat that took his breath away. Musket fire barked to life up ahead. Men shouted and someone started screaming and didn’t stop.

Konowa forced himself to his feet and started forward. The pain was receding and he broke into a run. When he reached the soldiers on the other side of the island, his mind couldn’t make sense of what he saw. Private Harkon staggered about on the beach surrounded by other soldiers.

His shadow was on fire.

White-hot flames roared wherever his shadow fell on the sand and Harkon screamed as if he himself was the one burning.

“Run into the water! Private, throw yourself in the ocean!” Konowa shouted.

Harkon looked toward Konowa, his eyes shining with madness. Harkon began tearing off his uniform. Konowa realized he would have to take matters into his own hands and charged forward.

Private Vulhber got there a step before him and roughly picked up the stricken soldier and began running for the water. As soon as he did, his own shadow caught fire. He cried out, but held on and kept running, plunging them both into the waves. Steam boiled into the air, but the flames did not go out.