She’d show the Emperor, she’d show the world that they had finally gotten what they wanted in her.

Vhalla lunged for one of the warriors, and her palm covered his mouth. It was how Aldrik had killed the Northerner on the Night of Fire and Wind. But, from her, there would not be flame. The air trapped within the man’s neck budged at her command. His eyes lolled in his head as it pressed outward, stretching the skin to its limit. The wind exploded free, taking strips of skin and hunks of meat with it, spraying blood over her face and arm.

The man fell before her and there was an almost audible hush as everyone seemed to pause and stand in horror. Vhalla looked at the soldiers, her allies. Her eyes met the Emperor’s, who seemed equally stunned.

“Fight with me!” she cried. They needed a leader, they needed a symbol that was more than a man in golden plate. They needed a Fire Lord. Or, a Wind Demon. “Fight with me!” Vhalla punctuated her statement by lunging for another Northerner, who exploded at her hand.

Imperial soldiers sprang to life around her, heeding her wind, taking care to account for her movements. The Emperor wanted her to bring him victory. She would show him what it would cost.

All else faded to the drumming in her ears. She gave herself to her Channel with the wind and to her Channel with her prince. She dodged faster than a person should be able to, she jumped farther, and she lost count of how many died by her hand.

But she had never used her magic like this before—consciously—and Vhalla finally felt her power waver. What should have knocked back several soldiers only stumbled them. She paused, inspecting her hand, as if it had consciously betrayed her.

A large flame from the other side of the chasm demanded her attention and, for the first time since the fighting broke out, she looked across to Aldrik. Everyone, even across the ravine, stumbled at the wave of heat. Vhalla took a step in his direction. There were more Northerners, a lot more, on the other side of the chasm. She wondered what happened to all the other soldiers. Aldrik seemed to have five on him at once.

He was like poetry through fire. His body moved deftly, countering and parrying with flame. The fire swirled around him, and his dark armor seemed to be alive with it as Aldrik spun, commanding the blaze with his hands and thoughts.

She threw a hand, the sight of him inspiring her power again. A soldier was knocked into the flames, and they blazed about him as her air and his fire mingled. Aldrik turned instinctually and his eyes found hers.

His expression quickly turned to horror, and Vhalla felt the blade move through the air behind her. She dropped her shoulder and rose her hand, wondering if Aldrik saw the Northerner’s face explode. Vhalla turned back to check, and her heart began to race for a different reason entirely.

He was being bested by two from either side. Aldrik dipped and swung, he dodged, but they were both clearly highly experienced combatants. Vhalla took a step forward. It was then she noticed four more had closed in, making a semi-circle around the prince and two Northerners. He was pinned against the edge of the ravine, occupied entirely by the two who dipped and dashed for any opening they saw.

Vhalla saw as Aldrik was forced back another step. The others on the edge of the semi-circle moved their lips fervently.

She took another step forward. Aldrik didn’t notice them. She had to tell him.

Suddenly, the two soldiers jumped away, tumbling backwards. All six raised their fists in unison. Aldrik seemed too stunned to move. He barely was able to take a step as all the Northerners dropped their closed hands into the ground.

A groan, a rumble, and the ground rippled under his feet.

“No,” she breathed.

Aldrik tried to run as the edge of the cliff cracked beneath him. He clamored, heavy in all his armor.

“No!” Vhalla cried, sprinting forward, past the blood and gore in an attempt to reach him. The swords faded away, the cries of the soldiers. She only saw her prince, losing his footing as the first large rock slid down into the pass below.

“No!” Vhalla screamed as she saw Aldrik tumble backwards.

The next thirty seconds stretched into eternity. Vhalla ran blindly to her prince, thinking of nothing but getting to him. His feet finally left the ground as the whole of the cliff shook away before the half-circle of Groundbreakers. Aldrik was falling, plummeting among the loose earth to the ground far below.

Her feet sped beneath her, carrying her away from the cries of the Imperial soldiers at her back. The wind was tangled around her ankles and caught beneath her heels. She had to get to him, she would save him. Vhalla leapt into the air, the wind at her back pushing her forward.

Aldrik was opposite the wide mouth of what was once a great river. And yet, with an expel of her power she crossed to him, propelled on the air, tilting forward. His hair whipped around his face and his dark eyes locked with hers in shock.

His lips formed a single word. “Vhalla,” he whispered into the rush of wind around his plummeting body. Vhalla stretched her hand forward, desperate. She would reach him. The ground was coming up fast, and Aldrik finally began to reach for her as well.

His body tilted and twisted over the pockets of air she tried to create beneath him. There were too many unpredictable factors, she wasn’t strong enough, and she wasn’t skilled enough to stop a body like this. Panic propelled her to exhaust the last of her magic trying to slow him.

His hand groped at the air. Vhalla extended her arm, she had to reach him. The tips of her fingers touched his and Vhalla felt her body magically beginning to slow, the wind refusing to harm her. Aldrik stared at her, and she saw an emotion completely consume him that she had never seen from him before: fear. Vhalla’s arm threatened to rip from her socket, his hand was so close. She almost had him, a moment more, a moment further, an ounce of energy that was not used to push the wind around her and him. The ground was relentless in its desire to violently meet their falling bodies, and she only had one last attempt before they were crushed upon it.

Vhalla took her chance.

She grasped the empty air, his fingers slipping past her bloody ones, and she screamed. The last thing Vhalla saw was the moment when Aldrik’s body met the ground, blood pooling instantly about his broken and lifeless form, before everything went black.

COMING IN FEBRUARY 2016

A woman awoken in air, a soldier forged by fire, a weapon risen from blood.

Vhalla Yarl has made it to the warfront in the North. Forged by blood and fire, she has steeled her heart for the final battle of the Solaris Empire’s conquest. The choices before Vhalla are no longer servitude or freedom, they are servitude or death. The stakes have never been higher as the Emperor maintains his iron grip on her fate, holding everything Vhalla still has left to lose in the balance.

MY COVER ARTIST, Merilliza Chan—I have to start with you, my dear, my “official fan art” creator. Your artwork for the Air Awakens covers continues to get better, time after time. The noises I made when seeing the final Fire Falling cover were inhuman. That armor? Aldrik’s face? It’s too beautiful. You inspire me to write better to make sure that the story I’m crafting lives up to the promises your artwork makes.

My editor, Monica Wanat—where would I be without you? With way too many “he said/she said”, that’s where! I can’t tell you how many times I’d point excitedly at the screen and think, “Yes, yes! This is what I meant!” You’re right there in my head and really elevate my work to a level of polished professionalism that I couldn’t achieve without you. I know you’ve had a lot going on lately and I want you to know I have such a deep admiration for your perseverance.