Fated

those nameless pictures scorching and curling—recognizing first one face, then another, and suddenly realizing they’re not what I thought.
    They’re not pictures of long-dead Richters—they’re pictures of those whose souls have been stolen for Cade’s horrible cause.
    He stands before me, hand reaching toward mine as white hot flames lick at his shoes and dance up his sides. The enormity of what I’ve just done looming before me, as I bolt toward the army of undead Richters, chasing the beast that ate my grandmother’s soul. Noting the way it allows him to grow and transform as a wondrous halo of light seeps out all around him—having no idea if it’s too late to save her, but knowing I have to try, have to stop them from invading the Lowerworld, or the whole world will suffer.
    My legs spin beneath me, carrying me faster than I ever thought possible. My flight spurred by Cade’s haunting trail of laughter, along with his horrible coyote nipping close at my heels.
    I sprint through a long series of rooms—heart pumping too hard, lungs about to burst from my chest. Only a handful of steps yawning between me and them, when they burst through the wall that leads to the desert, and Coyote leaps forward and sinks his fangs into my jeans.
    I whirl on him, stare into his glowing red eyes, and give him a swift, hard kick in the snout before he can pounce again. The move stunning him just long enough to allow me to dive through the wall before it snaps shut.
    Sand.
    I forgot about the sand.
    It meanders for miles. And though it’s packed hard, which makes it easier for running, with so many undead Richters ahead of me, it’s not long before I’m sandblasted in their wake.
    I trudge forward, eyes squinched against the spray, trying to stay focused on the big one, when they sprint up a hill, only to scale it and drop out of sight—disappearing so quickly my heart leaps into my throat, sure I’ve lost them for good. Only to find myself falling as well—swallowed by a tunnel of sand that ingests me deeper and deeper into the earth.
    The Lowerworld.
    That’s where I’m going. That’s where they’re going too. Intent on wreaking unspeakable damage—fueled by the power of my grandmother’s soul.
    But they’re so far ahead, there’s no way to catch up—no way to stop them from entering.
    All I can do is go with the fall—my body tumbling, rolling, getting sucked in so deep I can no longer see. My eyes squeezed tight, lips clamped shut, and yet I’m still inundated with great gobs of sand that slip into my ears, grind between my lips, and spread across my teeth.
    It’s horrible.
    Unbearable.
    I can’t breathe, can’t survive it much longer.
    The sound of them flailing before me the only thing that keeps me hanging on—reminding me of my purpose, giving me the incentive to keep going.
    My ears filled with the sound of their howling and yelping, so tantalizingly close yet so far away. And the next thing I know, I’m out. Slamming hard against the ground, surrounded by undead Richters sprawled all around me.
    I blink. Spit. Jump to my feet and dive for the big one, determined to catch him, to stop him at last. But Paloma’s soul has empowered him and he moves far too fast.
    They circle and scatter—zigzagging around him in an effort to confuse. And just as I start to gain ground, they split into several small groups that go several different ways. Leaving me with no choice but to forfeit the majority to get to the one.
    Trying not to think about all those Richters now loose in the Lowerworld.
    Trying not to think about how I’ve failed Paloma, failed as a Seeker in every conceivable way.
    All I can do is keep my eye on the prize—racing after him as he heads for a thick grove of trees, causing the spirit animals to dart from our path. So unused to any unrest, much less the invasion of evil, they go into hiding, unsure what to make of it as he continues to move through the brush so quickly, I know I can’t do this alone. I either do something serious, something to stop him, or I’m seconds away from defeat.
    I call upon the elements.
    Call upon Raven.
    My ancestors too.
    If what Paloma says is true—that they’re everywhere, part of everything—then they’ll find me here too.
    The wind shows up first, wafting and whirling, kicking up great clouds of dust that cut all visibility. And when the earth begins to quake, causing the freak to lose his footing, well, it’s just the boost that I need