No.

"No" was the only word that made sense in his mind. The harbinger couldn't believe it. He had run over to the main hall after the guards had reported seeing his fated there, visibly upset.

Apparently he'd been too late. The blood of the traitors was still on his hands as Rhys watched the small carrier speed out of the fortress, straight into the storm.

"No" was right. It couldn't have been Quinn, it couldn't have.

There was a more resounding denial in his heart, however. The one that knew it had been Quinn, his fated. The one he loved. And that was the firm refusal to let her die out there, battered by the storm.

Rhys was already moving long before any of those thoughts registered. He rushed toward the ships still cluttering the gate hall. Kol-Eresh's people had been fortunate enough to bring some with them, but now they were all but useless.

He still had to try.

Behind him, the harbinger could hear running footsteps and realized his captains and Kol-Eresh, who he had invited to the meeting, had followed him.

There was no doubt in his mind when he had to choose.

"Kol!" he roared. "When I get back, I want to see my fortress still standing! It has to hold! Do you understand?"

He'd made the right choice. Kol-Eresh didn't need to ask what was going on, when it was glaringly obvious there was only one reason why Rhys would run off into the storm. Not only did he not ask stupid questions, the other warlord didn't try to dissuade him either.

"It will hold," Kol-Eresh promised him, rushing over and throwing something to Rhys.

He caught it with one hand, already climbing into the ship.

It was a coat. A Fermanoli coat, heavy and warmer than anything else on Luminos. Rhys knew what it was perfectly well. It had been his gift to Kol when his friend had won his title. He'd thrown it to him the same way, telling Kol that he needed all the help he could get to survive his first long night as the harbinger.

Rhys cast one look at his friend. Then he rushed into the storm.

Behind him, the Main Gate was still closing, bringing a morbid, terrible smile to his lips. Kol-Eresh was sentimental only in the roughest sense of Nayanors. It meant he was ready to fight by Rhys' side to the death, but he wasn't going to give him any help in duels. And he did as he was asked, straight to the point.

Even if it meant protecting Rhys' fortress by leaving him outside.

Ahead, Rhys saw nothing. There was nothing to see, after all. He was in the eye of the storm and the only thing there was death.

* * *

The five minutes Rhys had spent alone in the storm without so much as a clue whether Quinn was still alive were the worst in his life.

The harbinger had never thought he could feel that kind of anguish. He kept looking at the monitors, searching for that heat signal, or the tracking device of the carrier to give him a sign.

It wouldn't have been unheard of for the storm to rip apart a craft as small and light as the carrier Quinn had been in. At least she'd had the presence of mind to pull the cover up, but Rhys didn't know how much time it had bought her.

He couldn't stop imagining Quinn with her very breath frozen in her lungs.

Rhys knew he didn't have long. Not for her and not for himself either. The ship he'd chosen was better and sturdier, but it was not a long-term solution and it wouldn't save them from certain death. If he didn't find Quinn in the next ten minutes, she was gone.

Then the tracker finally found her. Rhys roared victoriously, driving the ship on as fast as he could make it go, but the carrier was moving too. Every second, every foot took them further away from Jos Gharo and it wasn't easy to find their way back. Visibility was close to zero and the ship he was in didn't have the technology to detect all kinds of rubble the storm threw his way.

It was a miracle he wasn't dead already.

Rhys barely cared about that. All he wished for was another miracle – for Quinn to be alive as well.

He nearly crashed into the carrier. Only his warrior reflexes saved Rhys from driving over the small carrier, thrown into the cliffside like it weighed nothing. He had no idea how it had come so far.

Rhys jumped out of the ship without a second's hesitation. There was plenty to worry about but every second he delayed was a moment Quinn might not have had.

At once, the howling wind made it hard to breathe, even for him. Grasping the coat in front of his mouth, Rhys rushed to the carrier, but it wasn't easy.

He was a Nayanor harbinger – clumsiness wasn't what he was known for. Now, he was stumbling on solid, firm ground when the wind sought to lift him up, dressed in his full armor and bearing the massive sword.

It was hard to concentrate and see through his eyelashes turning into pure ice. The diadon implanted into his chest was working overtime and Rhys cursed the gods for not letting him give some of his strength to Quinn.

He unsheathed the sword and cut his way through the carrier. Rhys tore at the broken metal with his bare hands, growling, furious.

I can't lose her. I won't.

The thought of giving up never occurred to him. Quinn was his, his forever. It also meant his to protect, no matter how foolish her dash out into the storm had been.

Rhys could guess why. He hadn't seen a trace of her sister, leading him to firmly believe she was dead already.

He pressed his big body into the crevice he'd cut, searching around for Quinn. When his hand finally touched her, Rhys' heart skipped a beat. She was as cold as ice and he couldn't feel a pulse.

With a mighty roar, he pulled her out of the carrier at the same moment when the storm roared back. A gust of wind lifted up his ship and threw it into the darkness like it was nothing more than a toy. Like a child, delighted by their mischief, the storm howled as Rhys cradled Quinn against him.

His heart beat fast as the futile rage burned in him, seemingly giving him warmth.

Without his ship, they were as good as doomed. Even with the small vessel, finding the fortress again would have been hard. Rhys had no idea how far they'd come. He had focused so keenly on searching for Quinn he hadn't kept track. He knew where they were only in the general sense.

He pressed them against the cliff that had broken the carrier's wall, wrapping Quinn in the Fermanoli coat. Finally he could feel her heartbeat, but it was so weak it filled him with fear Rhys had never known.

It was the first time in his life he'd felt helpless. There was nothing to do, nowhere to run. The fields around Jos Gharo were empty and barren. There was nothing but wind and rocks and both promised painful, agonizing death if the temperature didn't kill them first.

The fact that the storm had just hit was the only, and absolutely only, thing that had saved them so far. Rhys knew they wouldn't get so lucky again. There was no search party – they were pointless in the storm. There was no shelter either. And Quinn was dying.

"Gods," Rhys whispered, gritting his teeth in fury. "I don't ask for a miracle! Just give me a chance."

The storm rumbled as a response. Rhys held Quinn tightly against him, trying to warm her with his body heat, but there was none. He was freezing too. Already his eyes felt difficult to keep open. The elusive sense of warmth was a clue as to how close they were to dying.

It was said that right before a person froze to death, they felt warm.

Rhys fought against it with everything he had and the diadon fought too, but it wasn't going to be enough.

The storm rumbled again, louder this time.

There was something mechanical about it.

Rhys' eyes flew open. It was getting hard to see when the temperature was such it hurt to look at the world. The wind and the cold made it nigh impossible to keep his eyes open.

Mechanical.

The harbinger jumped out of the way more by reflex than anything else. He twisted out of the path of a leg so large it could have crushed the Erados.

The Gech kept walking, undisturbed and unaware of them.

"Quinn," Rhys whispered, lifting his fated into his arms.

It was hard to speak. Dangerous, even. He started stumbling after the titanic harvester, hoping with every ounce of his being that wherever it was on the way to, it wasn't far. All Rhys needed was for the Gech to stop. No more than a minute for him to find the maintenance door and get them inside.

"Quinn, if you can hear me, hold on. Just hold on, Quinn. Don't go. I can't live without you. Fight, my love –"