I’m racing for the cliff. Hounds are hot at my tail, Mage Skinners behind them. I don’t have time to hesitate now. I need to jump.

At least if I fail, the rocks at the bottom will be more merciful than the Skinners.

More mercy in a quick end.

I close my eyes as I sprint. My brother used to tell me to picture vast emptiness, centered on a door. Moving through the door, I’d find my inner strength. I clenched my eyes tighter, blocking out all of the outside world except the uneven terrain beneath my feet.

I saw the blackness. I couldn’t picture the door.

“Your only limit is your own determination.” My brother’s words bounce in my head.

I push his words out. Even his words are a distraction now. Focus on the door.

The door.

I can’t see it.

The hounds howl louder. They’re at my heels. I picture the door. It’s there. I leap for it. And just as I leap for the door, I bound five strides forward in the material world—dragging one of the hounds with me as he latched onto my pant leg.

He tumbled on landing, but not without taking a shred of my pants in his teeth. I’m running, panting, straining to my limits to picture that door.

The door isn’t there.

It’s gone.

“Your only limit is your own determination.” Even if I can’t see the door, I can leap through it.

I can fly through it. Even if I can’t see it.

The cliff meets me. I don’t have time for indecision. I leap, flying for where the door should be. Eyes wide open, I fall from the edge of the cliff. In slow motion, I hear the dogs grinding to a stop at the precipice. I hear the shouts of the Mage Skinners muted.

There’s the emptiness in my mind.

I’m flying into nothingness.

And I fly into the door. I couldn’t see it until I passed through. But I’m flying through it.

I’m flying.

I leave the edge of the cliff, flying into the brisk night air. I must be the first mage to fly in centuries, since before the emperor executed mages in the Cleansing. James Blackblood, the greatest mage of my time.

The only one left really. I’m alone.

But I’m flying.