Lucian judged that several days had passed, though of course, it was impossible to tell in the dark hold. The hull creaked so much that Lucian was afraid it would rend. He half-expected the bulwarks to give way and for dark ocean water to immerse him in an icy tomb. Then again, that might be a kinder fate than what awaited him on the Isle of Madness. Still, he sat as far as he could from the siding, huddling for warmth.

  They fed him at regular intervals. The food was much the same as back at the Academy, so he suspected he was eating the same meals they were. It was hard to keep them down, though, with the rolling of the waves. Winter didn’t mean calmer weather on Volsung. Even if the ship were being perfectly steered by some computer program, didn’t it stand to reason that with enough icebergs, it might not even matter?

  At least Lucian didn’t have to watch the journey. But that left him with nothing to do. He asked for a light and something to read, but was denied. He replayed his actions and the Transcends’ judgment over and over. He should have just gone with one of them, any of them. But back then, he would have never dreamed this would be his fate.

  Anger burned within him. Anger, and regret. Mostly at himself for even coming to this place. There had been another option, after all.

  Thinking about Vera was worse than useless. Besides, what did he expect? For her to rescue him after refusing her training, even if, against all odds, he managed to break the Psions’ block and forge a Psionic link across light-years of space?

  No, he’d dug his own grave. Stupidly. And now, he would die for it. Even Vera had hinted that going to Volsung might be his undoing. How prophetic her words had turned out to be.

  He drew his legs close and buried his face in his knees. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he formed his Focus, but there was no magic to reach for. Someone always seemed to be standing guard outside the door, anyway. The only time the door opened was for meals or for a Psion to have the unlucky task of relieving his chamber pot.

  By now, everyone at the Academy would know what happened to him. He’d lost everything—his place in the Academy, his mother, and now, even his freedom. And he had lost Emma. Thinking of her was painful. What stories were they telling back there? Would she believe them? All he wanted was for her to still believe in him, but how could she after this?

  He should have cried, and in fact, he wanted to cry. But all he could feel was numb.

  There didn’t seem to be any reason to go on. His only hope, the Academy, was gone.

  Sometimes Gaius would talk to him, but never about anything serious; Lucian just wanted him to go away.

  But one day, Gaius opened the door, setting down a worn canvas backpack that seemed quite heavy. Lucian looked at it cautiously.

  “Inside, you’ll find a book on edible flora and fauna that can be found on the island. There are survival tips, too. Of course, you’ll have your magic back. You should be able to stream as soon as we’ve pulled away. You may need to survive on your own for a while—at least until the shuttle comes. Its visits are rather intermittent.”

  Lucian remained quiet.

  Gaius looked at him almost pityingly. How Lucian hated that. “I’m sorry for the way this happened.”

  “I don’t want your condolences.”

  Gaius pursed his lips. “Very well. Well, the pack is there. You have provisions for a week, a pot, utensils, and among other things you’ll find useful. We try to make it out here every couple of months to drop off supplies if the shuttle hasn’t come through.”

  “I don’t know why you bother. Why not take me to the nearest cliff and push me off?”

  Gaius’s expression was grave. “Certainly, some choose that path. Were it me . . . well, I suppose there’s no harm in saying it. Suicide is a legitimate choice. It’s what I would do, and what many mages choose for themselves in your situation.” He chuckled darkly. “You realize Transcend Gray has it? No one speaks of it, but it’s plain as day. The rot seems to have only affected his skin, but it’s only a matter of time before it warps his mind.”

  Yes, he had always looked rather sickly. “And yet, you let him stay there where he can be a danger to others. Funny how justice falls more swiftly on the powerless.”

  “I won’t deny that. Of course, you’re young and may want to live still. In that case, you must wait for the shuttle. Who knows? Life might be worth living, even on Psyche. The will to survive is an amazing thing.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “I don’t need your lectures.”

  Gaius stood there a moment longer as if he had something more to say. In the end, he shut up and bolted the door behind him.

  As much as Lucian was afraid, it would be good to get out of this stinking hold. He would be outside, free to walk and do as he wished within the bounds of the island.

  At least until he died.

  But Lucian didn’t plan to die. He would find a way off that island, and if it came down to it, a way off Psyche too.

  It wasn’t likely, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  When the door opened again hours later, the vessel had come to a stop. The Psions filed in, along with Khairu, who all stood next to Gaius with solemn expressions. What would they do, he wondered, if he sat there and didn’t move a muscle? Something told him it wouldn’t matter. They would chuck him into the ocean if that was what it took.

  “Think about it,” Lucian said finally. “All eight of you, the Transcends’ chosen, taking days of your time to move me here.” He chuckled. “A massive waste, isn’t it?”

  None of those stony masks responded, though he thought he could see Khairu glowering. The light was too low to be sure.

  “You are dangerous,” Gaius finally said. “And we trust the Transcends’ judgment.” He nodded toward the open doorway, leading into the corridor outside. “The weather is good today, but we expect a storm a few hours from now. We’re putting you off in daylight, but that too will be gone in about ten hours. There’s a trail leading inland from the beach. If you walk fast enough, you should make it to the cabins by nightfall.”

  “All right, then. I can see myself out.”

  He hoisted the pack onto his shoulders and tried to put on a brave face. He’d already gone through the bag’s contents and was surprised to find a collapsed shockspear in there. He was sure having it was against the rules. He looked at Gaius, who stared at him with a neutral mask. Had he put it in there? If so, why?

  Of course, the opportunity existed for one last-ditch effort at revenge. But Lucian knew that was pointless. The Psions were only following orders, and fighting back would do nothing but secure his immediate death. The fact that the spear was in his bag told him there were dangers on the island, and he might need to face those dangers with more than his bare hands and limited knowledge of magic.

  He felt their collective gaze pressing in on him as he walked into the corridor. The Psions parted to give him space. The gray daylight from the bridge, though dim, was bright to his eyes. Through the windscreen lay the endless expanse of the Ocean of Storms under a slate-gray sky. To his left was the island—larger than expected—stretching far in both directions. Several rocky hills rose farther inland, and the sky in that direction was blue. Judging from the position of the sun, they were on the island’s south side. There was no discernible vegetation. Even Transcend Mount had trees on its lower reaches. Perhaps they were even farther north than that.

  When Lucian walked onto the deck, the icy wind only confirmed that suspicion.

  “Lucian?”

  Gaius handed him a thick parka and snow pants, both heavily furred. Lucian doubted that the fur was real, but it certainly looked warmer than what he had on.

  “Take it,” the Psion said. “Just in case.”

  Lucian put down his pack and threw on the heavy layers. The Psions gave him some thicker winter boots, thermal underwear, and fur-lined gloves. Even if Lucian was being sent into brutal conditions, he saw the Psions did not intend for it to be a death march. For the first time, he realized they did want him to survive long enough to see Psyche.

  That was either mercy or torture. It was too early to tell.

  Lucian took a ladder down to one of the rowboats, where four male Psions, including Gaius, rowed him to the rocky shore. As a test, Lucian probed for his ether, but it was as absent as it had been on board. It was clear the Psions were leaving nothing to chance. They watched from the deck. He met Khairu’s gaze for a moment. He expected a smirk, but all he got was a stony stare.

  When Lucian stepped out into the surf, not a trace of water entered his boots. Good quality, then. As soon as he was ashore, the Psions pushed off without so much as a “good luck.”

  He stayed on the shore for a few minutes, watching them row back out. He reached for his Focus, not finding it any easier to stream. He supposed he could wait until he felt his ether again and take a parting shot. But the fact remained that there were eight of them and one of him, and they likely knew how to defend against any such attack.

  Besides, that wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t mad. Not yet.

  He walked down the rocky shoreline, scanning for the trail. It didn’t take long to find a set of steps carved into the hillside. He made his way toward it, climbing hand over hand. It took about ten minutes to crest the first rise. He scanned the surrounding landscape, finding it bare, gray, and almost lifeless. There was some pink lichen, coated like paint over some of the rocks. Those rocks varied in size from his fist to the size of a house. This broken land made it seem as if a giant’s fist had slammed it from the sky. Ice encased most of the shoreline. The place they’d rowed him to was one of the few ice-free places, while the sea itself was filled with icebergs. If they had waited another week, Lightsail might have made the journey in hover mode.

  Toward the north, the gray land stretched toward the horizon. The trail, at least, was clear of rocks and debris. It was then that Lucian noticed one of those odd-shaped rocks moving. A crablike creature with a long, stalky neck scuttled sideways and hid in a crevice. Maybe he could eat those, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been able to read the survival guide too closely in the darkness of the cargo hold.

  He looked back at the ocean. In the distance, he could see the ship’s sails full, pulling away from the Isle of Madness with surprising speed. When he reached for his Focus, he found it easily—and for the first time since the Academy, he sensed the presence of his magic. He heaved a sigh of relief.

  Lucian continued his way inland, walking as fast as he could. The sooner he reached shelter, the better.