Solana fidgets for a second before she takes a seat across from me, and my mom says nothing as she hands me a plate heaped with so many berries and so much whipped cream I can barely see the waffle-exactly how I like it.

"I thought the not-eating thing was only for guardians?" I ask Solana before taking an enormous bite. It's even better than I remember. Sweet and crunchy, but somehow melty like b.u.t.ter, too.

Solana stares hungrily at my waffle. "It is. But anything I eat takes up s.p.a.ce that could hold more energy. And right now the Gales need all the extra wind we can get."

"I guess," I say, wondering what it feels like for her to have the wind constantly swirling inside her. "But couldn't you-"

Frantic pounding on the door interrupts my question, and I run to answer it, with my mom hot on my heels.

Gus stands there, wide-eyed and out of breath. His hair is halfway unraveled from his braid and his uniform is soaked with sweat.

"You have to come with me," he says, dragging Solana and me outside. "We're under attack."

CHAPTER 20.AUDRA.

I.

have to get inside that mountain.

I don't care how dangerous it is, or how much the vanished winds and the screeching air warn of something indescribably evil.

Raiden is here.

I doubt Aston knew that Raiden would be making a rare excursion from his fortress, but this must be why the Easterlies dragged me here. And even if it's just a lucky twist of chance, I have to take advantage of it.

This is not a time for caution.

This is a time to lay it all on the line.

I watch as Raiden leads his Stormers into the mountain, surprised that none of them remain outside to stand guard. It seems like a mistake-though I'm grateful they've made it. But then I remember that this is Raiden.

He's not some prince who inherited the crown at birth. He fought for it, killed for it, clawed his way up from the bottom to become the most powerful Sylph alive.

He doesn't need his Stormers to protect him. Only to do his dirty work.

Which makes me more determined than ever to take him down.

I can feel the worry in my Westerly shield, but I whisper for it to stay calm as I count the seconds, waiting until five hundred have pa.s.sed before I dart out of my hiding place. I scan the basin as I run, half expecting a Stormer to jump out of the shadows. But when I reach the entrance it truly is empty. No signs of life except the fresh footprints on the ground.

All I have to do is follow them.

My head screams at me to abort-call for backup-or at least give myself more time to prepare. But I can't risk losing this chance.

I reach up and unravel my braid, knowing it will be safer not to look like a Gale. Then I take a deep breath and step into the darkness.

The path turns narrow as it slopes into the earth, and the sound of m.u.f.fled sc.r.a.ping fills the dark void. There's no light to guide me, so I walk with one hand on the sandy wall, surprised when I feel the coa.r.s.e grains shifting under my fingertips. The entire tunnel is somehow rotating around me, like I'm walking through a cyclone that's been sucked into the ground.

A Maelstrom.

I've heard rumors of Raiden's evil prisons, but I'd always hoped they weren't true.

Now I understand why the winds are so skittish.

Maelstroms devour the wind.

My Westerly shield trembles, but I promise to keep it safe. If the Maelstrom could detect its presence, the draft would've already been consumed. Still, the breeze on my skin keeps resisting, trying to drag me back to higher ground with every step I take.

The air turns cool and damp, and I'm starting to think the pathway has no end when a dim yellow light fades into view. I press myself as tightly against the wall as I can and listen for signs of life. It's hard to tell over the sc.r.a.ping sand, but I don't hear any voices or footsteps, and I see no flickering shadows.

I creep forward, making my way into a small, round room where I have to cover my mouth to block my scream.

Dark chains dangle from the ceiling, each one shackled around body-though they really aren't bodies anymore. They're gray-blue withered sh.e.l.ls that hang shrunken and shriveled in their dingy Gale Force uniforms, their faces so wrinkled and twisted that I can barely tell they're sylphs. I've never seen this kind of decay. It's like they're raisins in the sun, like they've been sucked dry or . . .

I gag when I notice flecks of dust breaking off their contorted limbs and sinking into the slowly spinning walls.

The Maelstrom is eating the prisoners alive.

I have no words for that level of evil-and this has to be what Aston wanted me to see.

I've never felt so hopeless.

Especially when I realize I know one of the victims.

It's impossible to recognize his rotted face-but Teman always pinned a golden sun above the Gale Force symbol on his sleeve.

He was my Southerly trainer.

We . . . didn't get along.

Teman was all about joy and rest and ease-every longing I didn't want to have. He even tried to convince me that I should wait to become a guardian. Take a few years for myself before I swore an oath to serve.

And yet, four years later he was the first Gale to vote in my favor at my guardian hearing and my staunchest advocate when my mother voted against.

He believed in me, trusted me, and as I stare at his gnarled, crumbling corpse, I feel like I failed him.

If I'd pushed Vane harder-taken more risks to get him to have the breakthroughs earlier-would it have mattered?

Would Teman still be alive?

I smear my tears away as I shove the dark thought out of my mind.

I can't focus on what-ifs.

All I can do is learn from my mistakes and keep trying harder.

Still, I whisper an apology to Teman as I bow my head in mourning. And that's when I notice the other bodies.

Strewn along the edges of the room in careless piles like fallen leaves. Ordinary Windwalkers in regular clothes. We've always been an isolated race, scattered through the high places of the world, where the winds flow free and the groundlings rarely go. But Raiden must be hunting down every sylph one by one, forcing them to swear fealty or die.

A few even look like children.

I have no idea how long I stand there, staring at the indescribable cruelty. But voices coming from another hallway yank me back to reality.

Close voices.

I don't have enough time to run to safety-and when I hear Raiden's deep, booming voice, I don't want to. I can't understand what he's saying, but I managed to catch one word.

"Vane."

I want to cry when I realize there's only one place to hide, but I force my legs to carry me to the tallest pile of bodies and wriggle my way inside. Sickly gray dust crumbles around me, and I hold my breath, hoping it doesn't make me cough.

Or vomit.

Please let this be quick.

Please let them not see me.

And if I live through this, please erase this moment from my memories.

The footsteps draw closer, and I pick up more s.n.a.t.c.hes of their conversation-words like "prepare" and "demonstration"-but it's all too vague and choppy for me to make any sense of. And by the time they reach the room, all I can hear is deep, throaty laughter. It echoes off the cavernous walls, so cold and cruel in this place of death and despair that it twists everything inside me with rage.

I hold still as the chains clatter and someone with a low, nasal voice asks, "Can I help you, my liege?"

"Yes, I want this one's pendant for my collection."

I don't know which makes me sicker: knowing that Raiden's collecting the blackened pendants of the guardians he's murdered-or the fact that he's only a few feet away and there's nothing I can do to end him. I can't make a move in a place where he holds all the power.

The footsteps draw closer, making the ground tremble beneath me.

"Something feels off," Raiden murmurs.

"Off?" a new voice asks.

"Yes." Raiden takes several steps away. Then moves closer again. "There's something over here. A hint of life."

He knows I'm here.

I curse my stupidity as the footsteps thunder closer.

It's over.

He'll find me and feel the Westerly wrapped around me and that will be the end. I'll fight until my dying breath but I'll still be the next withered body dangling from the ceiling.

"This one, over here," Raiden says, his voice agonizingly close. "That one's still alive."

"You're right," the Stormer says, moving closer as well.

The load on top of me gets lighter, like someone is grabbing bodies and tossing them to the side. I wait for the burly arms to reach out and s.n.a.t.c.h me-but they drag a different body away.

"I'll string her back up," one of the Stormers offers.

"No need to bother," Raiden tells him. "We're almost done with this place. Just set her on the ground and I'll take care of it."

I hear a thud as the Stormer obeys, and then I hear a couple more footsteps.

Then a sickening crunch.

I bite down on my cheek, hoping it will distract me enough to stop me from throwing up.

Somewhere in the panic and pain I hear Raiden say something about a gathering and a long-awaited prisoner. Then I hear their footsteps walk away.

I should count to five hundred to make sure they're truly gone, but I barely last another minute in the dust and decay. I claw my way out of the pile, smothering my coughs with my fists as I crawl across the floor, hating how close I am to Raiden's newest victim.

Her hands are stretched out like she was reaching for freedom. But her skull's been crushed in the center. Stomped in by one of Raiden's boots.

My chest tightens and my eyes burn, but I manage to fight back my sobs as I pull myself to my feet.

I want to run, attack, tear Raiden apart piece by piece for every horrible crime he's committed.

But now is not the time.

Soon, I promise myself as I start the long climb back to the surface.

The path gets brighter as I walk, and when the sunlight starts to blind me, I press myself against the wall and check for guards. I see no sign of any Stormers, but I still slide slowly toward the exit, keeping to the shadows as I slip into the empty crevice.

The air is hot and still, but I gulp it down, grateful to be free of the tainted Maelstrom. The screeching wail has quieted, replaced by the low hum of a crowd, and when I creep to the edge of the crevice, I can see Raiden standing in the center of the basin. His back is to me, and he's balanced on one of the tallest stones, facing a group of Stormers. A quick head count tells me there's at least fifty, and from the white bands on their arms I'd guess they're his top soldiers. Maybe even his leaders.

It's strange to see them gathered so openly. Standing in the middle of a groundling valley, with no concern for anyone spotting them.

I can't see Raiden's face, but I can see the faces of his Stormers. Their eyes are wide with awe-and maybe a little fear.

My Westerly shield tugs at me, begging me to flee to safety. I offer the draft release, instead. I'm not going to force it to suffer along with me. But it stays by my side, tangling tighter.

"I know you're growing restless in the heat," Raiden says, his sharp voice echoing off the valley walls. "The winds tell me there's been a delay. Apparently he tried putting up a fight. When will they ever learn?"

The crowd's m.u.f.fled laughter makes me want to throw something, but one glance at Raiden's pant leg freezes me in place.

The white fabric is splattered with red.

"I can a.s.sure you, this will be well worth the wait," Raiden promises. "And in the meantime, let me ease your discomfort."

He hisses a strange curl of words, part growl, part wheeze, and a fleet of grayish Northerlies fills the air, making the temperature drop at least twenty degrees. I duck back into the Maelstrom to avoid the winds as they dip and dive and race around the basin. If they touch me they'll give away my location.

"Is that better?" Raiden shouts as the winds vanish as quickly as they appeared.

The Stormers murmur their agreement, and I slip back outside as Raiden tells them, "All our hard work-all our years of patience and perseverance-have led us to this day. Some of you may have doubted that it would ever happen. I myself at times wondered the same. But this is the turning point I've been working for-searching for. We've tried and failed before-but today we finally have what we need. In just a few short minutes, you'll see. I now have the key that will give me the power not only to snuff out the last of this pitiful rebellion but to control the entire world!"

There's scattered applause as the Stormers process this information, and I wonder if some of them are as terrified as I am. But when Raiden stamps his b.l.o.o.d.y foot and shouts, "Who's with me?" they all raise their right arms straight in front of them and then sweep them back toward their foreheads in a waving gesture.