As I sprint out of the city, a voice pierces my thoughts.

You’ve failed, E, it hisses. You’ve failed.

And I have. I’ve failed to get Z back.

Z was my best friend. We lived on a boat. It was just us, it always had been. The two of us against the rest of the world.

Then we docked in Port Trowmouth, one of the deadliest places in the whole world. We had just finished buying supplies for the next few months when we noticed that some Trowmouth kids had stolen our ship.

“We have to get it back,” I remember him saying, and I just followed along.

We rented out a rowboat and began to pursue them. A storm was brewing overhead, and the air was full of the promise of lightning. We just didn’t expect it to hit us.

The blast exploded into the centre of our rowboat and splintered in down the middle. I clung to my half and desperately tried to spot Z among the wreckage. But the waves were too big and the storm was too feral for me to find him. I watched the bottom of the sea in terror as sirens lurked behind wrecked boats with fangs of sharpened glass.

The next thing I knew I was awake on a beach with a crowd of children around me. The same ones who had stolen our boat.

“You made me lose Z!” I yelled and hurled myself onto the nearest child, punching and smacking.

And then suddenly I was in the air, smashing against a tree. They were Life Reapers, I realised. So they would know where Z was.

After questioning them thoroughly we came to an agreement: I would give them passage on my boat in exchange for passage to Grea, the City of Death.

We were both looking for people we thought to be dead.

We sailed for weeks, rationing food, fighting off Reapers, pirates and Guardians. Then we reached the City.

I parted from the Life Reapers then. I had admittedly grown fond of them, especially Chalk, their leader.

Grea was just like in the books - morose and grey and hopeless. Rain contstantly fell from the heavens and the fountain in the town centre hadn’t produced water in forever. The dead wandered around solemnly. Apart from one boy I seemed to recognise.

Z.

Z who was walking with Lady M, the princess of death.

“Z!” I cried out. “It’s me.”

But he barely even noticed me. His eyes were transfixed on Lady M and he stepped up to the fountain. Lady M gestured grandly around him and then suddenly white light spurted from his eyes. He levitated absorbing bodies from the crowd.

I rushed forward and stared at Z. He was now wearing robes and a black mask.

“Z, what are you doing?” I said, grabbing his hand.

He turned his head and looked at me. “I’m not Z anymore, E. I’m Wraith. And you will soon be too.”