Chapter 48

They crossed into the deadlands at dawn.

The earth was scorched black, the sky a low ceiling of ash-gray clouds. Twisted trees reached skeletal branches toward a bloodless sun. Even the wind felt wrong here — thin, sharp, full of whispers.

Edgar pressed forward, jaw clenched.

Every hour, the connection grew weaker — Sebastian’s magic flickering like a dying flame.

“We’re running out of time,” Edgar muttered.

The others followed in grim silence.

Seraphine kept to the rear, eyes darting between the horizon and the group, fingers brushing the hilts of her pistols.

Magnet Man lumbered near the front, his breathing mechanical, armor scratched and battered from the last battle.

The Professor stumbled now and then, leaning heavily on his staff, skin pale and drawn, but his eyes still burned with stubborn determination.

By midday, tensions flared.

“Pushing harder won’t bring him back faster,” Seraphine snapped, grabbing Edgar’s arm.

Edgar rounded on her, eyes burning.