Her parents' home is no more.
No more than the tongues of fire licking through the wild, swallowing everything where a stone cottage should have stood.
Neva remains rooted to the spot, staring at the flames, waves of heat sweeping over her skin while she struggles to make sense of it.
She takes a step forward, but a grip clamps around her elbow, halting her mid-step.
"We need to leave." Rhett tugs her back, but she pulls against him in refusal.
"The twins," she whispers.
"Angel—" he says.
"Let me go!" she shouts, fighting against his hold.
Terror consumes her. All she can see is her children screaming for her as fire races across the wooden ceiling above them, threatening to collapse at any moment.
"Let me go!" Her legs thrash frantically as he staggers backward.
Around them, bushes ignite in quick flares, the wind fanning the flames while she claws desperately at the arms locked around her.
"I have to get them out!" she cries as he pulls her back into the open field.
"There's no one inside!" He turns her toward him, but her eyes are already drawn back to the flames.
Did she lose them?
Did she lose both of them?
What is she going to do?
What is she going to do?!
She goes limp, shock crashing through her in a numbing paralysis.
"They aren't here, Angel." He cups her face, but she can barely make out his expression through her blurry gaze. "The house is gone. We need to go find them, alright?"
He can't... He can't do this to her. He can't.
She lets him pull her away when distant cries and screams pierce through the roar of the fire devouring the night.
He keeps her close as branches crackle overhead in bursts of flame, smoke writhing through the cypress grove in a gray maze.
Her breaths become labored as they move through the field, the blur of darkness and fire intensifying at the edges of her vision.
Moans of worship and cries of agony haunt her, a wriggling child held high by a priest before the burning altar.
With a hysterical rune, the priest hurls the child into the pit of smoldering embers, where serpents and scorpions slither through a grave of dead and living bodies.
It builds in waves, in hollering depravity, until all of Miraeth, until all of the whole world collapses under the insanity of glamouring curses, the abandonment of souls,
and the devouring of flesh and bone.
Inside and out, inside and out, inside and out, inside and out,
darkness and warped faces,
scarlet and shredded hearts, feasting and reveling, becoming and drowning in circles through blood and vermins and—
A voice stirred by the spring breeze breathes air into her lungs, the arms around her grounding her back into being as she tears at the grass, screaming her heart out.
"It's okay, it's okay..." His voice breaks as he traces soothing circles across her back.
Her fingers dig into his shoulders as the images blur and burn behind her eyes, until a shadow emerges from the smoke.
An arrow whistles through the air.
With a jolt, he rolls them aside just as it buries itself in the earth where they had been kneeling just before.
His gun is out the next instant, a shot ringing through the night as he fires at the silhouette drawing another arrow to its bow.
The man falls with a thud, when long shadows stretch around his body.
Pagans and idolaters step from the smoke, hatred their armor, violence their only creed.
He catches her arm and hauls her to her feet when her knees buckle in protest.
Curses rise before them, voices crying for the Prophetess's death as he swings her over his shoulder in a single fluid motion.
Arrows rain around them as he carries her across the field through the blur of smoke.
Shadows shift and steel flashes as the wilderness cloaks them in darkness, dim moonlight and fissures of flame swirling through the gaps between the trees.
"Smite them both!" A roar cuts across the field, a unison of cries driven by the wind through rustling leaves and crackling twigs.
As the forest deepens and their assailants fade farther into the distance, she feels herself being gently lowered to the ground.
"Are you—are you alright?" His breaths come hard as his hands cup her face then slide down her arms, searching for harm.
"Yes..."
She swallows against the tightness climbing from her chest to her throat. "Are you?"
"I am." He rests his forehead against hers as he gathers his breath, when a wrathful cry, like that of a raging beast, rips through the illusion of peace.
Tears slip down her cheeks.
When does it end? Lord... when does it end?
"Come on." He takes her hand. "We need to keep moving."
He guides her through the haze, somehow spared by the flames, lit just enough to show them the way.
"Can you walk?" He slows slightly, as though remembering how her legs had given out so close to death.
"Yes." A hot, dizzying rage flickers through her head at her own helplessness, at the bleak forces preying for innocent lives, at the circumstances that rip her children from her again and again and again.
"I'm sure they're fine, Angel," he says softly, and only then does she realize how tightly she's gripping his hand. "Ace is with them."
Her grip loosens, when a gasp escapes her as she tears at the strands of what feels like a spiderweb clinging to her face.
"What is it?" He pulls her close at once.
"Nothing." Her fingers brush across her cheek as the filthy sensation lingers.
Then she pauses, a faint murmur of water lapping against the shore reaching them.
He guides her onward, the burble of water growing louder while moonlight breaks through the whispering canopy above.
Her mouth parches at the first glimpse of light rippling across the emerald lake,
white snowdrops blooming along the shore among the reeds.
She steps forward, her movements slow and careful as she makes her way down the sloping shore.
"Best to drink from spring water," he says.
She couldn't care less. The lake seems clean enough, yet she still waits as he walks along the shore in search of fresh water.
Then he crouches, using the small flashlight in his hand to scan the ground around him.
He glances up as she steps toward him.
"It's clean here," he says, watching as she lowers herself beside him.
She leans in, gathering the spring water in her hands where it trickles through the green moss-covered earth.
Water trickles down her elbows as she lifts her hands to her lips,
drinking until the cool, sweet water does a little to soothe the rawness from her throat.
Her eyes lift to the moonlit sky as he takes his turn at the spring.
They've finally come for her. And this is only the beginning.
There will be more. So many more.
Her eyes close as a fresh breeze feathers across her face, and she prays that her children will be kept from harm, that they will all be guided and led away from this wretched island, for spring has come.
"Have we lost them?" she whispers, awareness slowly returning as the lake settles into focus around her.
Birch Lake. The place where Jacob had told her to meet him almost a week ago, a week stretched thin into what feels like forever.
"Seems like it," he says, splashing his face with water.
A few stray droplets sprinkle lightly onto her.
"They are all going to die," she says. "Every one of them."
A shadow crosses his face. "What did you see?"
Without answering, she takes the handkerchief from her dress pocket and passes it to him.
"Thank you," he says, wiping his face.
"Apocalypse," she says quietly.
He returns the handkerchief. "And are we going to be whisked up in this?"
A faint smile touches her lips. "It'll come to pass at the right time."
He lowers his gaze to the still water. After a moment of silence, he says, "If the inevitable happens, don't hate me for putting you and Rhean above everything else."
Something quiet and sharp twists in her chest. What about the twins?
No. She knows he loves them. It's only the weight of the moment.
He'll never have to choose. Not between the believers and his family.
Not between one innocent life and another. Not between anyone. Never.
She places a hand on his shoulder.
He covers her hand with his, pressing a gentle kiss to it.
"We can't stay here for long."
"I know the way from here," she says.
"You do?" He rises with her.
She nods and extends her hand. "Flashlight."
He smiles and places the battery-powered flashlight in her palm.
Light unfurls before them as she switches it on.
Their fingers entwine as she leads him through the darkness,
following the path she hopes still leads to the dirt road Jacob showed her.
"Are you sure you won't trap us out here until morning?" he asks, attempting lightness.
"Of course not."
Though with every passing minute, she prays she isn't leading them toward the very people hunting them.
Out of nowhere, he tugs her back, and she instinctively switches off the flashlight.
That's when she sees it.
An SUV parked at the corner of the road, moonlight glinting off its black exterior.
Her heart quickens at the sound of muffled cries, but the vehicle's number isn't visible from where they're standing.
And they aren't the only ones in Miraeth with the luxury of a car.
"Stay here," he whispers, then moves toward the SUV.
She lingers behind, silent as anxiety tightens every muscle in her body. The tinted windows do little to ease her nerves.
Yet she still sees her husband's silhouette as he slips behind the SUV, weapon raised.
Then he disappears around the far side.
Her focus narrows to him so sharply that she nearly misses the faint knock and the name he calls out. "Ace."
She takes a step forward as the door opens, hurrying as he signals to her that it's safe.
He moves to meet her,
then halts mid-step, shouting, "Stay back!" as an arrow tears through the air and strikes the earth between them.
Half-dazed, she retreats as the command for cover is swallowed by the sharp crack of bullets tearing through the forest.
He grabs her arm as they run for the SUV, arrows pouring around them,
silhouettes breaking from the dark as the engine rumbles low and urgent.
Headlights flare across the assailants as they charge with a battle cry. He yanks the door open and forces her inside.
Then he stumbles back with a curse.
An arrow has hit him.
Her hand slams against the door, ice coiling tight around her bones.
Shots rip through the air as the SUV starts to move.
"Wait…" a choked sound slips from her.
The passenger door flies open and he throws himself inside. "Go, go!"
Arrows slam into the window as Ace charges straight through, scattering the assailants while the SUV surges ahead.
In a lost space between disbelief and relief, she clings to her children, whispering thanks to the Father, to Jesus, over and over as they cry softly against her chest.
"You're hit," Ace murmurs.
"Just a scratch," Rhett says quietly.
After a moment of silence, he asks, "How did you end up here?"
Ace draws in a sharp breath. "I don't even know what the hell is going on anymore."
"I don't remember what really happened," Ace says. "I don't even remember dozing off. But somehow I—" he breaks off. "I remember carrying the kids to the car, then suddenly everything was on bloody fire."
"You guys were missing, and the fire hadn't spread there." Ace says with an edge of sarcasm, "Figured it smart to wait until those savages felt the same about murdering us."
"Do we have a first aid kit?" Neva asks once she's settled the children into their seats.
Rhett clicks open the compartment box and hands her the red kit. "What do you need it for? Are you hurt?"
In response, she turns on the dim cabin light and reaches for his injured arm.
Thankfully, the arrow hadn't lodged in him, but it had still ripped through enough flesh that the raw, angry gashes glare under the light, blood still seeping out.
After she ensures the blood has stopped seeping, she cleans his wound with bottled water, her thoughts drifting to Evara and Neal. From Ace's silence, he likely has no idea what happened to them.
"You'll need stitches," she says,
winding the gauze tightly around his arm after disinfecting the wound.
He rests a hand briefly on the bandage. "Get some sleep. It'll be a few hours' drive."
She nods and turns off the light.
Yet her eyes drift to the window anyway, to the flames swallowing Miraeth,
the distant cries of rage and torment making sleep feel impossible.