Somewhere else, shadows had claws and teeth, and nightmares came to life.

But there, in the house at the edge of the Waste, it hadn't reached them. There it was easy to forget that the world was broken.

The only thing missing was her father, and even he was there, in the photographs, in the shipments of supplies, in the promises that soon they could come home.

After, she told herself a lot of things. That she'd always wanted to leave. That she was sick of the little house. That when she spoke of home, she meant the capital.

The sun rose against Kate's back, showering the fields ahead of her with light. Dew glittered on the tips of the grass, and dampened her pants from shoe to knee, and the world smelled fresh and clean in a way the city never did. August walked a few steps behind, and Kate watched the coordinates on the watch shift up and down, inching closer.

He was quiet, but so was she.

They skirted factories and storage facilities, each guarded as heavily as the Horizon, and caught the wary gaze of a haggard-looking woman standing outside a squat compound, checking to make sure she hadn't lost anything in the night. Midmorning Kate saw a skeletal town in the distance, light glinting off the metal roofs and outer walls. They steered clear, kept to the tree lines when there were trees and the tall grass when there were none. And the whole time, Kate kept her eyes on the watch, the numbers edging closer, closer, closer.

Up ahead, the woods came into sight. Memory flickered behind her eyes. The barricade of trees that looked dense but gave way to a smaller field, half a mile in.

And a house.

They crossed the tree line before Kate realized that she couldn't hear August's steps behind her anymore. She turned and found him a little ways back, running his fingertips thoughtfully over a chestnut tree.

"Come on," she called. "We're almost there." He didn't move. "August?"

"Shhh," he said, closing his eyes. "It finally stopped."

She walked back toward him. "What stopped?"

"The gunfire," he whispered.

Kate frowned, looked around. "What are you talking about?"

August's eyes drifted open again, his gaze fixed on the rough bark. "Leo was wrong," he said softly, his voice strangely musical. "He told me it was who I was, what I was, and I believed him, but he was wrong, because I'm still here." He broke into a boyish grin. She had never seen him smile, not like that. "I'm still here, Kate."

"Okay, August," she said, confused, "you're still here."

"The hunger hurt so much at first, but now-"

Kate froze. "How long have you been hungry?"

He just laughed. A simple, delighted noise that sounded so wrong coming from his lips. And then his gaze met hers and Kate caught her breath. His eyes were burning. Not just fever-bright, but on fire, the centers icy blue, the edges licked with gold.

It was like staring into the sun. She had to look away. "August-"

"It's okay," he said cheerfully, "I'm better now, don't you see, I'm-"

"About to set the woods on fire," she said, coming toward him with her hands up. "Why didn't you tell me?" She looked around, as if there might be a sinner conveniently waiting, but of course, there were no sinners nearby, because there were no people nearby. They were in the middle of a fucking forest in the middle of the fucking countryside. Kate closed her eyes, trying to think, and then felt a flash of heat and opened them to find August's fingers grazing her cheek.

"It's okay," he said gently.

She pulled back. "Your hand."

"My hand," he echoed, considering it. "It looks like yours but it's not because I'm not, I'm not like you, you look like me ... but that's wrong isn't it-"

"August."

"-I look like you, but you were born and grew and I wasn't and then was, not like this, not exactly, smaller, younger ...," he rambled, a kind of manic energy rising in his voice, "... but I start from nothing and then all of a sudden I'm something, all at once, like the opposite of death, I've never thought of it that way...."

She touched his forehead, jerked away. "You're really burning up."

He smiled, that dazzling, delighted smile. "Just like a star. Did you know that all the stars are burning? It's just a whimper and a bang, or a bang and a whimper, I can't remember, but I know that they're burning...." She turned, and started pulling him through the trees. Heat wicked off him now, and flowed over her skin where it met his sleeve. "So many tiny fires in the sky, and so much dark between them. So much darkness. So much madn-" He cut off. "No."

"What is it?"

He jerked free, brought his hands to his head. "No, no, no ...," he pleaded, folding to his knees. "Anger, madness, joy, I don't want to keep going."

"Come on," whispered Kate, crouching beside him. "We're almost there."

But he'd started shaking his head, and couldn't seem to stop. She could feel the anxiety rippling off him like heat, seeping into her skin. His lips were moving, and she could just make out the words. "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay."

She wrapped her arm around his waist to help him up. His shirt was slick and she thought it must be sweat, but the rest of him looked dry and when she pulled back, her fingers came away black.

"August," she said slowly. "I think you're bleeding."

He looked down at his body as if he didn't recognize it, and when he didn't move, Kate reached out and guided up his shirt. She could see the place where a bullet had graze his ribs. He touched his side and stared at the streak of blackish blood on his hand as if it was a foreign thing. The manic smile was gone, and suddenly he looked young and sad and terrified.

"No," he whispered. "This is wrong."

He was right.

Sunai were supposed to be invincible.

Nothing is invincible.

It had to be the hunger, somehow wearing away at his strength.

"Let's go," she said, trying to help him up, but he pulled her down instead. Her knees sank into the mossy earth, and his fingers dug into her arms. He was shaking now, the short-lived euphoria plunging into something else. Tears streamed down his face, evaporating before they reached his jaw.

"Kate," he said with a sob. "I can't keep going toward the edge-don't let me fall." His breath hitched. "I can't I can't do it again I can't go dark again I'm holding on to every little piece and if I let go I can't get them back I don't want to disappear-"

"Okay, August," she said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. "I won't let you fall."

He buried his burning forehead on her shoulder. "Please," he whispered. "Promise me."

She reached up, and stroked his hair. "I promise," she said.

They'd made it this far. They would get to the house. Cool him down. Get the money from the safe. Get the car from the garage. And they would drive until they found something-someone-for him to eat.

"Stay with me," she said, taking his hand and rising to her feet. "Stay with me."

Heat prickled through her fingers, at first pleasant, and then painful, but she didn't let go.

II.

They made it to the house.

Gravel crunched beneath her feet as Kate half led, half dragged August across the field and past the overgrown drive and up the front steps. The blue paint on the front door had faded, the garden plants had all gone wild, and a spiderweb of a crack ran across a pane of glass, but otherwise, the house looked exactly as it had.

Like a photograph, thought Kate, edges frayed, color fading, but the picture itself unchanged.

August slumped against the steps as Kate scavenged under weedy grass for the drainpipe and the small magnetic box with the key hidden inside. She'd knock the door in if she had to, but it had lasted this long, and she didn't like the thought of being the one to break it now.

"Tell me something," murmured August, echoing her words from the car. His breathing was ragged.

"Like what?" she asked parroting his answer.

"I don't know," he whispered, the words trailing off into a sob of grief or pain. He curled in on himself, the violin case slipping from his shoulder and hitting the steps with a thud. "I just wanted ... to be strong enough."

She found the box and fumbled to get it open. She didn't realize her hands were shaking until the sliver of metal went tumbling into the weeds and she had to dig it out. "This isn't about strength, August. It's about need. About what you are."

"I don't ... want ... to be this."

She let out an exasperated sound. Why couldn't he have eaten? Why couldn't he have told her? Her fingers found the key and she straightened, shoved it into the lock, and turned. It was such a small gesture, but the muscle memory was overpowering. The door swung open. She knew the place would look abandoned, but the sight still caught her off guard. The stale air, the surfaces covered in dust, the tendrils of weed creeping up through the wooden floorboards. She almost called out for her mom-the urge was sudden and painful-but caught herself, and helped August inside.

Her feet carried her through the front room. She found the generator box in the kitchen, flipped the switches the way she had a hundred times, the gestures simple, automatic. She didn't wait for the lights to hum on but went straight for the bathroom with its warm blue-and-white tiles, its porcelain tub.

She snapped the shower on, praying the rain tanks still worked. There was a groaning sound in the pipes, and moments later, water began to rain down, rust red at first, but then cold and crystal clear.

August was there behind her, swaying on his feet. He set the violin case down, managed to get off his jacket and shoes before stumbling forward, catching himself on the lip of the tub. Kate went to steady him, but he threw out a hand in warning. The tallies were burning up his arm and back, singeing through his shirt. He dragged it off, and she saw four hundred and twenty-three white-hot lines blazing across his skin.

She didn't know what to do.

"Go." The word was a whisper, a plea.

"I'm not leav-"

"Please." His voice was shaking, heat rippling his hair like a breeze, and when he looked over his shoulder at her, the bones of his face were glowing white hot, while his eyes were turning darker, black pressing in on the flames. She took a step back, and August climbed into the shower half dressed, gasping as the cold water struck his skin and turned to steam.

She turned toward the bathroom door and heard a voice through the hiss and crackle of the shower, little more than a breath, but still somehow audible. "Thank you."

Kate's hand was throbbing as she ran it under the kitchen tap. It looked like she'd put it on a stove. It felt that way, too. All she'd done was take August's hand and not let go.

Anger, madness, joy ... I don't want to keep going.

That's what he'd said in the woods.

Whatever he was going through now wasn't joy. How long had he been suffering? She'd noticed the temper, when the car broke down, but he'd managed to keep most of the madness to himself. The joy he couldn't. And now ... the sound of his pained voice clawed inside her head.

I don't want to disappear.

She set the bloodstained spikes in the sink, cut the tap, and wove back through the house. The bathroom was clouded with steam, but August was no longer standing in the shower, and she panicked until she noticed his mop of dark hair cresting the wall of the tub.

I can't keep going toward the edge.

His eyes were closed, his head tipped back, his body dangerously still beneath the shower's stream as the water rose over his hips.

Don't let me fall.

"August?" she said quietly.

He didn't answer. Didn't move. Kate forced herself forward, holding her breath until August gave a small shudder. She exhaled, relieved by the subtle motion. His teeth were clenched, his eyes squeezed shut against the fire.

She watched as he took a breath, and went under.

He didn't come back up.

His bones had stopped glowing, easing the skeletal effect that made her think of Malchai, of monsters. Beneath the water, August looked so ... human. A teenage boy, his long limbs folded up and his black curls floating around his face. She counted the seconds, watching the last of the breath leave his lips, wondering if she'd need to pull him out.

And then, at last, he surfaced.

He gripped the rim of the tub and dragged himself up, water streaming into his eyes. They were no longer on fire, but they hadn't returned to pale gray, either. They were darker, the color of charcoal, set too deep in his hollowing face.

Kate knelt and curled her fingers over his. His hand tensed beneath hers, but his skin had cooled enough to touch, and he didn't pull away. "Kate," he murmured, his vision sliding in and out of focus.

"I'm here," she said. "Where are you?"

August closed his eyes, took a long breath. "Lying on my bed," he whispered. "Listening to music while my cat chews on the corner of a book."

Kate almost laughed. It was such an ordinary answer. His hand was getting hot again, so she let her fingers slide from his and sank back against the tub wall. Behind her, the shower almost sounded like rain, and she dug the silver medallion from beneath her collar, rubbing a thumb absently over the surface.

"Your house," said August tiredly, and she couldn't tell if it was a question.

"It was," said Kate, turning the pendant between her fingers.

A small, shuddering sigh from the tub. "Why are there so many shadows in the world, Kate? Shouldn't there be just as much light?"

"I don't know, August."

"I don't want to be a monster."

"You're not," she said, the words automatic, but as she said it, Kate realized that she believed it, too. He was a Sunai-nothing was going to change that-but he wasn't evil, wasn't cruel, wasn't monstrous. He was just someone who wanted to be something else, something he wasn't.