Eleanor's POV
I ran.
The distance across the hard-packed dirt felt like a mile. My eyes were locked on the. Rage and terror warred inside me, a volatile mix that made the bracelet on my wrist grow hot.
I was twenty feet away when Nomad raised a single hand, palm out. A command to halt.
I skidded to a stop, my chest heaving.
"You know what you have to do," he said, his voice carrying easily across the quiet field.
Before I could answer, the ground in front of me rippled. The dry, pale dirt and sand flowed upward like a reverse waterfall, grains defying gravity. And from within that swirling column, something dark emerged. It was lifted to the surface, cradled in the sand, before the particles cascaded back down, leaving it lying innocuously on the ground.
The crown.
Its black metal seemed to drink in the weak sunlight, pulsing slowly, like a sleeping heart.
