Page 115 of War Hour

When the screaming starts, I jolt awake, rolling off the edge of the couch onto the hard ground, fighting the pillows as if they are my attacker. All the breath is knocked from my lungs, and my heart races, pounding in my ears as I try to find my bearings. Forced from sleep’s dark abyss that my exhaustion willingly succumbed to.

I flinch when bloodcurdling screams pierce through me. Not from my dreams but from the couch across from mine. Sitting up, I look over the table positioned between the couches for the redheaded girl who sleeps nearby.

Sar’s share of blankets retrieved from the bedrooms have fallen to the floor in a slump. Her body lies trembling, her nails digging into the fabric of the cushion like a lifeline.

Rushing to wake Sar from whatever nightmare holds her captive, I trip over the blankets woven around my legs and land on my knees beside her. Upon closing the distance, I realize Sar is not asleep. Her eyes are wide open, pupils darting from left toright, a haunting sight. Reaching out to shake her awake, I shout, “Sar! Sar!”

She bolts upright, her eyes fixating off in the distance behind me. She breathes heavily, a hand pressed to her chest. Tears form at the corners of her eyes as she looks around to collect herself.

Grabbing her hand in mine, I squeeze Sar’s fingers tightly, trying to remind her of my presence. That she isn’t alone.

My heart breaks as the warm, sunlike girl cries, and I pull her toward me. Wrapping my arms around her as she shakes. Soon after, her sobs soften and breathing evens out, but when it does, she turns to me with swollen red eyes.

“It’s happening,” Sar says. Her lip trembling as she takes in a shaky breath. “We need to go. We need to warn them. It’s happening, or it will.”

Furrowing my eyebrows at her, I lean back. “How do you know that, Sar?”

She looks at her fingers, not meeting my gaze. In a smaller voice, she answers back, “Because I could see it. It’s one of my powers—I’m a seer.” Inhaling a shuddering breath, she resolves herself, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I get visions of what has happened, what is happening, and what is still to happen. They are usually just flashes, but I can’t control them yet.”

Leaning away, I appraise Sar, mind reeling from the recent development.

“You’re Trialed . . . more than once . . . like Torryn.”

She stares at me with wide eyes like the secret will be the final thing to force us apart. Sar hurries to explain, voice shaking. “No one knows. Except for Ardis and Torryn. Not even my... Lord Bralas. It would only give him a reason to use me, and I never plan on going back. It’s why I didn’t tell you—”

I wave off her apology. I don’t blame her for not telling me. Weapons win battles, people win wars, but true power can start and end both. Knowing the before, during, and after—it must be terrifying.

“What did you see?” I ask, heart leaping in my chest.

Sar clears her throat. “Lord Drytas with an army of hundreds. Smoke surrounded them, buildings burned. But Drytas was shouting orders to attack.” She shudders, closing her eyes slightly. “There were so many dead.”

I leap to my feet, looking away from her. “What court was it, Sar? If you saw bodies, then you could see what colors they wore.” Sar flinches when I turn toward her, scouring her face for the answer. “What court, Sar?”

She stands, reaching for me, and I suck in a harsh breath, realization knocking into me.

“It was Andolin, the Court of Truth’s Trial city.”

I stick out a firm hand, pushing away any attempt at comforting me. No. It’s not over yet. We can still help them.

If she’d seen what is happening, we are too late. But if it’s the future...

Looking toward the window, I examine the sky that has just started to speckle with the first stars of the night. The sun has just barely gone down as dark blue and purple hues still paint the horizon.

Turning to Sar, I grip her arms tightly. “What time of day was it in your vision?” At her confused expression, I rephrase, “Was the sunstillin the sky?”

Sar’s eyes widen, catching onto what I’m saying. Her eyes flick to the window. “It was dawn. So, you think that means we aren’t too late? It hasn’t happened yet.”

Rubbing a hand across my face, I exhale deeply. “I think if war had started this morning, we would’ve known when we gotback from Falland.” I grab my jacket from where I’d tossed it, pulling it onto one arm in a rush. “We still have time.”

Sar jumps into action like a flash, shoving her feet into her discarded boots. “I hope you’re right. Trials, let us be right.”

For all our sakes, I hope so too.

Every minute countsand Sar and I use each wisely. Changing into combat worthy clothes; reinforced leather and metal plates. Even now, as we break into the weapons storage of the arena, we do so swiftly.

Sar stands behind me as I search the sword mounted wall for my weapon of choice. The silver weapon blends in, making me grumble under my breath.

Sar hasn’t stopped rambling, her anxiety rolling off her in waves. “The Heirs won’t be back with word for a few more hours. By the time they make it back to the capital and head for Truth, it’ll be too late.”

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