The air didn’t just smell of ash—it smelled of death. Kess pulled her scarf closer to her face as she approached one of the looming staircases to Dawnring and swore at the number of fires brewing Downhill. Lightstorm season always brought them in number, but they were usually the controlled blaze of the same buildings that always had issues during the season—multistory wooden buildings without money for protection or other materials—not the soot-blackened acrid smoke of those that rarely caught.

  They’re not burning in one place, she realized. Whatever the Witchblades had gone after, they hadn’t found it in that first warehouse. The fires were numerous and spread out, and Kess was momentarily stunned by their number.

  An angry orange glow diffused into the clouds, soft and solemn, an odd contrast with the occasional crackling blue of the Lightstorm. Kess felt each of those strikes with a buzz of energy that ran from her spine into the tips of her toes, calling to that energy she kept tucked away.

  Kess snapped her fist shut against the Fulminancy that gathered there, and watched the stairs for a moment. If she wanted to help Draven, she needed to hurry, but how fast could she get there without some sort of help?

  Kess knew one way to clear the stairs quickly. A way to get over them in one fell swoop, without injury or time wasted. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to take that step. Still, she thought. If it gets me to Draven faster. And she did need to have that energy at the ready if she intended to defend the man.

  Kess took a deep, shaking breath and settled herself, gathering that snarling, unfamiliar energy coiled deep within her gut. Above her, the Lightstorm cracked exultantly, its clouds almost seeming to swirl towards her. Kess let her Fulminancy fill her up, spreading to every limb with the crackle and buzz of unused energy. The hair on her arms stood up, and lightning flashed nearby. Kess didn’t flinch—not with the well of nauseating power coursing through her limbs that dwarfed even the lightning strike.

  Not quite knowing what she was doing, she directed that energy towards her feet, the action instinctive. Her toes tingled in response, and Kess simply flung herself off the staircase.

  She flew squealing through the air, her cloak whipping about her, nearly losing her scarf in the process. Her arms flailed as the jump took her over the first, second, and third flight of stairs. She angled her feet towards the looming ground and simply prayed her legs would survive the impact. In response, a burst of Fulminancy flared into her feet again.

  She landed, hard, and the gathered power flung her another ten feet away and down another staircase before she came to a rest. Groaning and wondering if she’d saved any time at all, Kess got to her feet and looked above her.

  Well, that’s one way to travel, she thought. The stairs were at her back, and though more followed, she had saved some time, and not blown herself up in the process. It was something, at least. Chest heaving, Kess turned towards the next staircase, her Fulminancy crackling soothingly around one of her arms.

  She steeled herself and did it again, making her way towards Stone Market as quickly as her Fulminancy allowed. Perhaps, she mused as she flew through the air again, stomach lurching, it’s decided to help me just this once. Maybe it could be an ally, if only she could master it.

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  She would have to master her fear first.

  Her Fulminancy didn’t entirely protect her from the strain of multistory falls. It was wild and unpredictable, and by the time Kess reached Dawnring, her leg ached fiercely. Dimly, she realized that it should have been long healed by now, but after tonight she might not have to worry about it anymore.

  Dawnring was eerily quiet as Kess made her way through the familiar streets. Gone were the squads of children, the stalls hawking their wares, and the throngs of people crowded under shelters or packed into stone markets for Lightstorm season. Tendrils of lightning licked the sides of taller buildings, some few reaching towards Kess. She didn’t flinch. Many Downhill were terrified of Lightstorms, but Kess had always feared the storm swirling inside of her more.

  Witchblades, oddly, were nowhere to be found; their stations were empty, their help nowhere to be found. Neighbors tended desperately to the fires in nearby buildings. There was no sign of the men who’d caused the fires in the first place.

  Years of habit carried her closer to Draven’s tavern, even as her lungs seared with black smoke. Fortunately, she lost no time going that way; Draven’s tavern was a few blocks away from Dawnring’s Stone Market.

  She knew before she arrived that it would be gone. Still, that didn’t take the shock away as she rounded a corner and found the burned out husk of the building, the only remaining pieces the stone foundation and walls.

  The bar she had sat at for years was gone, its footprint a mere memory in the ash. The tables she had laughed at and played cards at, gone. As she rounded the building, Draven’s back rooms where she had slept off nasty fights or hidden from enemies until tempers cooled—gone. While the fire was out, the heat was still fresh, and a few bits of wood smoldered in the corner.

  Too late, she thought. I was too late. Here was her life Downhill served up on a plate of ash and death. It was all gone. Kess fought against the burning in her eyes that had nothing to do with the acrid smoke. She clenched her fists as she picked through the destroyed building, steeling herself for the remains of men and women she had laughed with, fought with, and hidden with.

  Mercifully, it seemed like the occupants had gotten out in time, but Kess was now even less sure of Draven’s fate. She turned her back on the tavern and sprinted towards the Stone Market as fast as she could go.

  People were more numerous as she approached the center of Dawnring. A few gave her furtive glances before darting into alleyways or small homes. A sign scribbled to her left had some choice words to say about Mariel and how the Seat had abandoned the Downhill. Another sign further up the block deigned to throw out any semblance of class at all with its request. Kess ignored the signs and pressed on as the streets opened up into a square. To her right was the Stone Market—brilliantly lit, even in the dark weather.

  The square, however, was cast in shadow. Light spilled out from the Stone Market, a tentative glow that only reached so far. Kess slowed, squinting, as she realized that there were shapes in the darkness.

  Fulminancy cracked to life in the center of the square, a snarling twist of bolts that hid the face of an unfamiliar man standing over a bloodied Draven, Fulminant knife to his throat. A blue and silver sash proudly adorned his waist, and something golden glinted there, holding it tight. He regarded her lazily, his posture relaxed, even as Draven’s eyes widened at Kess’s appearance.

  Kess brought her powers to her hands, all semblance of calm gone. Her fingers trembled, and her breath lurched through her lungs as she fought the memory of that night so long ago.

  I can’t be like that, she reminded herself. Not until Draven’s out of the way. She would have to play this carefully, though how could she expect herself to beat someone on the Council?

  The man brought more Fulminancy into his hands, and Kess let her own flare, a more defensive action than anything. He hurled a bolt at her.

  Kess’s own Fulminancy stuttered, cracked, and snuffed out, a whisper on the wind.

  The bolt hit.

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