“The gash! Gash!” Aelis screamed while swiping at nothing in front of him with her knife’s edge.

  Adanna wrestled her brother to the floor from behind.

  “Let it go!” Adanna said. Aelis thrashed free, screaming. To him, Adanna wasn’t even there.

  “It’s not real, it’s not real. Ah! My head!” Aelis grimaced in pain. “Get away!”

  Adanna avoided the wild swings as she grappled Aelis—that obsidian dagger would split skin like it wasn’t there. Aelis wailed as he wriggled free of her attempts. His eyes were distant and glossy, darting from one unseen nightmare to the next. As Adanna reached for his wrist, a swipe opened up a line of red along her palm. How could she stop this? He’s never been this bad.

  “Aelis! Be here with me!” She needed to try something else because this wasn’t working. Adanna took a gamble. She stopped fighting him. Instead, she held Aelis in a tight hug and hoped. “Please stop.”

  The air in their home was cold and still. Slowly, she felt him relax in her arms.

  “Adanna?” His voice had clarity that had not been there a heartbeat before. “Why am I holding a knife?” Aelis lowered the blade with shaking hands.

  Carefully, she took the leather-wrapped end and slid it, blade-first, into her belt sheath before slumping onto the thickly blanketed hut floor. She held her throbbing hand to stop the bleeding as she lay in silence.

  “Did I do that?” Aelis asked. Deep pain welled in his light yellow eyes. “I’m so sorry. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t—”

  “No! You didn’t,” Adanna lied. “My last dive, I dropped my knife and cut myself while catching it. It just opened up again.”

  Aelis looked instantly relieved. “Oh, okay. Still, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to be here. Void, take me—I’m your older brother—not a child.”

  “You’re the strongest person I know. You’ll get through this.”

  Aelis turned away to curl up. It looked strange for a man in their early thirties, his skeletal arms wrapped around frail legs—like a frightened child.

  With a deep breath, Adanna pushed to stand.

  “So…what do you want for dinner?”

  “Bread,” Aelis said somberly.

  “And? What else?”

  “Just bread,” he said.

  Aelis was getting worse. He wasn’t the brother she grew up with—the one who carried her on his shoulders during festivals, who laughed loud enough to wake the neighbors. That man was gone, replaced by a hollow version. He wasn’t quite all there on the best of days. On the worst, they’d be lucky if he ate at all. At least, today, he wanted something.

  With a sigh, Adanna got to work.

  Their family home was more spacious than most, large enough to fit five people comfortably. They were down to three, but on a positive note, there was plenty of space.

  A quick rinse with icy water in the barrel basin and a tight bandage took care of her hand—the blood spotted through, but the pressure stemmed the flow well enough. That taken care of, she pulled out a wooden bowl from the cabinets, a sack full of calp flour from the pantry, and a vial of dried petal flakes from her spice drawer.

  Moving to the small table in a corner, Adanna scooped a measure of flour from the sack and dumped it in the bowl. She mixed in water until the dough had the right consistency. The water reacted with the flour and formed a doughy ball. Finally, she sprinkled the petals into the lump, massaging the dough to activate the flakes.

  As she worked, the dough grew uncomfortably hot. She quickly formed the loaf with practiced precision—hardly roasting her fingers. The wet dough visibly steamed as it fluffed, letting off a familiar aroma.

  Aelis crawled from the floor to the couch, sweat beading across his temple.

  “It’s too hot.”

  It wasn’t hot. Adanna walked to Aelis. She dabbed his forehead with a clean washcloth. Sitting next to him, she lifted his head onto her lap.

  “It’s not fair, is it?” she said, stroking his hair—it was oily, begging for a rinse.

  Aelis’s lips tightened as his head shook. Truthfully, it wasn’t fair both ways. Aelis was suffering, while all Adanna could think about was how the Tanabata was tomorrow, and she was stuck babysitting her older brother. A part of her resented him for that, a part she hated.

  Adanna gently set Aelis’s head down to check on the bread. She scratched the crust with her fingernail—it was hot but firm, the flesh scraping off in flakes.

  “Aelis, your bread—” she turned, finding him inches away. She yipped, jumping out of her boots.

  “That’s for me?” Aelis asked, pointing. He locked onto the loaf like a predator.

  “Obviously,” Adanna laughed. “Go on, it won’t run.”

  Aelis tore a chunk off the soft loaf and bit into it. He groaned as he devoured the piece. Soon, he was ripping off another. And then another. He finished the entire loaf.

  “Damn,” Adanna said, grinning. “You were hungry.”

  Aelis looked at her shamefully. “Oh. You probably wanted some, didn’t you?” Aelis asked, biting his nails. “I am the fucking worst.” He started smacking himself in the face over and over.

  “Aelis!” Adanna took his wrist, wincing from her cut hand.

  “I can’t do anything right,” he said. Pain and tears welled in his eyes. It shattered her.

  “I made that for you,” Adanna said, “all for you. I’m happy when you’re happy. Can you be happy?”

  Aelis furrowed in thought, wiping away a streaking tear.

  “I can be—for you,” he forced a smile.

  “Let me make you more.” Adanna lifted her brother’s thin arm as gently as if it would break. “We’ll get some meat on these bones.”

  “No, I’m full.” He smiled genuinely. “When is the Tanabata?”

  “Tomorrow,” she admitted. “But I’m okay staying in! We can play some games; maybe the one from the Iko? With the funny animal pieces?”

  “Adanna,” Aelis held her shoulders. Those yellow eyes were lucid, and they pierced her. “It would make me happy for you to go. I’m happy when you're happy.”

  Adanna hesitated. Caught between duty and desire, she fought.

  “Go!” Aelis grinned like he used to—with life and a bit of cunning. “I’m good. Bread makes me sleepy. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Adanna hugged her brother as tight as she could. She forced herself not to cry.

  “Promise you’ll be okay?”

  “I’ll do you one better: a double promise,” he said, offering his pinkies. Adanna connected her pinkies to his to seal it.

  “Love you!” she smiled before kissing his cheek. She was off, bolting for the door.

  Or she was until guilt clawed at her as she slipped on her coat, slowing her excitement. She was supposed to stay. Adanna glanced back, finding Aelis settling into the couch with a blanket. He waved to her through the fabric and smiled.

  “Have fun!” he called out.

  Adanna slipped open the door and out into the cold. Stars spilled into view at the first outside step, framed by the carved hole leading up and out of their home set within the flats. She flew up the cutout steps out into the open wind.

  The crisp, cold air had her pulling her coat close. The starry sky was clear and bright, with Lus gleaming on high. The leeward face of Mount Valkar loomed near, right behind the tightly grouped hut dwellings. Each home dotted the landscape with lights that shimmered across the flats around her. It looked the same as always, but this time of the year felt special.

  A touch of Moment would be nice, though, she thought annoyedly.

  Moving was warm, so she hopped to it. A brisk breeze had her shivering, and she trod faster. Soon, she was run-walking the inset stone pathway leading to the Commons, footsteps echoing across the flats.

  Mount Valkar protected the Sableshore homes from the worst of the wind’s wickedness. Still, the air here was miserably cold. Yet, it was a remarkable upgrade from the near-intolerable chill on the open flats before a dive. Savor the little things, Adanna supposed.

  If they weren’t rationing starbark, she’d be warm on this walk. How can Emberheart deliver less Starbark and expect more in return? How was that fair? The Kesvam played favorites. They should stand up to them or something, shouldn’t they? Adanna felt her mood plummeting to post-holiday levels.

  “I refuse to be miserable! I like—no, I love the cold.” Her teeth started chattering. “Let me have it, come on! Is that all you’ve got?” Rounding a hut, she found an elderly couple on a walk, a man and a woman, staring at her, clearly amused. Adanna slowed, awkwardly smiling. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

  “It is! Happy New Year!”

  "May We Find Our Way," she returned. Adanna picked up where she left off as they passed each other.

  At her frantic pace, she quickly left the village proper behind her. She hugged the cliff edge of Mount Valkar and snuggled into her coat. Nobody was out there—they were either in the Commons, working, or at home. Adanna was alone with the stars, the cold, and the wind.

  A piercing shriek echoed from the mountain, belonging to no human or creature she’d ever heard. Adanna scrambled to stop and stare up the steep slopes. Whatever it was, it sounded close. Yet, nothing but a thin layer of ice clung to those jagged stones. An involuntary chill crackled up her spine.

  What in the hells was that?

  It petrified her, fusing her feet to the stone pathway. Her wide eyes scaled each crack and crevice, searching for anything. Finally, beneath a dark overhang, she found it—three pairs of eyes glinted back, stacked one on top of the other, while its form remained cloaked in inky shadow. Then, a nightmare peaked its head out into Lus’s light.

  It couldn’t be. Yet there it was, just as Benn had described it, staring at Adanna, barely a hundred paces up the sheer slope. Its teeth were two rows of tightly packed fangs, bone white in the moonlight. It growled with a low, peaky rumble, tones overlapping dissonantly.

  Her hand throbbed rapidly in time with her thumping heartbeat—her bloody hand. Benn mentioned they hunted by smell and how Watchers would bathe without soaps to avoid detection. Her blood had led it right to her.

  “Hush, my darling, and still your breath.

  The shadows stir; we dance with death.

  Stay safe within, let dreams restore,

  For noctivora roam no more.”

  Her mother’s voice whispered the song through her memories. Adanna clung to it now as a sort of comfort, even as death’s shadow loomed. The song was ancient, from before the provinces—before the Watchers and far before the divers harvested from the frozen sea—a time when Emberheart was their only home—a time of sorrows.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Adanna waited for it to attack, to end her story—but it didn’t. Surprisingly, the noctivora didn’t move to chase her. Instead, its head tilted almost thoughtfully, the six eyes blinking one after the other in an eerie sequence.

  What do I do? Where do I go?

  The blood pumping behind her ears was so loud it was hard to think. Back home to the village was out of the question—it was too far. She was barely a mile away from the Commons. That was her best chance, if slim. Breaking eye contact, Adanna sprinted for her life.

  Her foggy breaths bloomed in clouds as she powered through the last leg of her journey. She expected to see her horrible fate with every backward glance, but there was nothing each time. Still, she ran. She didn’t stop when she passed into the expansive cavern opening that led into the bright interior caves of the Commons.

  Adanna dodged past the growing crowd before skidding to a stop, backing into the cavern wall to take deep, calming breaths, hands on her head. People sent strange looks her way, but she didn’t care.

  Her legs trembled from the run, and her mind replayed the sight of those six eyes, watching and calculating. Even in the bright cavern surrounded by people, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were still on her.

  That couldn’t have been a noctivora, could it? she thought.

  It didn’t make sense. The noctivora were a problem for the central provinces: Emberheart, Krysal, and Steamrift—never for Sableshore. Benn had assured her they’d been implanting there for ages before their people arrived in the Andhera. It wasn’t something subject to random change. And one thing was sure: if it were, she’d be dead. The creatures could take on a contingent of Watchers alone. Why would it be afraid to attack her? Adanna breathed out, feeling silly.

  “Noctivora,” she scoffed. “As if!” A few more glances shot her way.

  But what was that, then?

  One horrifying thought came to mind: this was how it started for Aelis. Things that weren’t there suddenly were. Slowly, the truth blurred and fractured before becoming unknowable. No, this couldn’t be happening to her. Being Timeblind would be a fate worse than death.

  The hall was as bright and blustering as it ever had been. People set up booths and prepared art, food, or trinkets to pass out on the Tanabata. A laughing circle of children played a game of Stones with handfuls of smoothened pebbles. There were so many bodies that it didn’t even feel cold. Everything about it screamed, “Be happy!”

  But a hollowness had settled into her bones. Adanna couldn’t become like Aelis—she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be another burden to her father. It wasn’t an option.

  “Hey, Danny,” a voice said directly into her ear.

  Adanna’s soul jumped out of her body and splated onto the cavern ceiling. She turned to Ren, looking entirely too amused with himself. For a big man, he certainly could creep.

  “You!” she reached up to strangle his stupidly thick neck. “Don’t do that!”

  “You seem extra jumpy today. And pale,” he said while fending off her strangling attempts. “Is everything alright?”

  “I look pale?” Adanna glanced at her dark skin and then back at Ren incredulously. “You look like Lus’s twin cousin.”

  “Do I?” he said dumbly. “Anyways, where’ve you been?”

  “Where do you think?”

  Ren shifted from goofy to concerned. “He’s not getting better?”

  “Worse,” she said. “It's always getting worse.”

  “Okay, now I know something is off. Come on, what is it? I’m here for you.”

  Adanna considered telling him. But the time wasn’t right. It was too soon, and he’d worry. She wasn’t sure of anything.

  “I’m just worried about Aelis. He cut me on accident,” she showed Ren her bandaged hand. “But he’s come to. I don’t know what we’ll do if he gets worse.”

  Ren pursed his lips in consideration.

  “Hmm. Alright. But if there’s anything else, you know you can talk to me?”

  “I know,” Adanna smiled.

  “Moving on,” Ren coughed uncomfortably, “you’ve heard, haven’t you? Everybody's talking about it.”

  Adanna scrunched her face. “No, what?”

  “Use your ears,” he said, gesturing to the crowd, the chatter carrying across the busy.

  “It’s so exciting,” said one diminutive girl to her friends, “A Watcher from Emberheart! And he’s gorgeous! Do you think I could be a Watcher?” Her friends laughed hard, and the girl blossomed red.

  Another passing group continued the trend: "He flipped me flat on my ass. I had no chance.” “Yup,” said another, “What did you expect, the man was twice your size? And a Watcher to boot.”

  Adanna snapped to Ren. “Is Benn with them?”

  Ren shook no. “Nope, just two of them. Both are from the central provinces. So why do you think they’re here?”

  Something clicked in her mind. This news changed things. Maybe, just maybe, Adanna wasn’t going mad.

  “I need to think. And I desperately need a soak. Come on.”

  “You are so weird,” Ren said, following.

  She led them through the Commons until the cave forked, one tunnel branch heading to Industry and the other to the Freeside—they headed Freeside.

  Ren snagged two fresh rolls from Tanisha’s tray as he passed a firing stone oven, dodging the baker’s half-hearted smacks. Biting into one, he spoke with a full mouth. “Curious for a secret?”

  Adanna squinted at him. She was not in the mood for his current crush, likely to change in a heartbeat.

  “You know my policy. Whoever it is, talk to me when you get serious.”

  “Nothing like that,” Ren waved his hand as if to clear a stench. He took another bite of roll. “Something else.”

  “Fine, spit it out.”

  “No, it’s delicious! Want one?” He offered her the other roll—she declined with a rude gesture. He shrugged and pocketed the spare. “Your loss.”

  Steam filled the cave tunnel as they neared the cavern springs, and fragrant soaps drifted along the muggy humidity. Voices carried low from the springs, creating a general drone.

  “Are you telling me or not?” Adanna said. Finishing the second roll, Ren leaned close.

  “It’s Gus,” he said. “He’s got something for you, one of his newest gadgets. Said to drop by for a breath.”

  “How is that a secret?”

  “Well, I didn’t tell anyone besides you. Definitionally, that’s a secret.”

  The cave tunnel opened up, exposing a low-hanging cave filled with light, steam, and naked bodies by the hundreds. They soaked in the countless aquamarine pools scattered across the uneven stone in tiered layers, with thin streams flowing from the top layers to the bottom. Spring lumivines illumined each pool, shooting dancing patterns and rainbows onto the ceiling through the mists.

  “That one looks good!” Adanna said, pointing to an empty spring near the entrance. She was so ready.

  Adanna tore off her clothes into a lumpy pile, not bothering to fold them before stepping in. The water raged hot against her, but she kept pushing. With a deep breath, she submerged, suspended in the heat like a child in the womb.

  It was calming, floating there. Adanna needed this. Her thoughts were a mess of fear, confusion, and hope. How sick was she to be hoping what she saw wasn’t a figment? Would she honestly rather die than be like Aelis? Whatever was happening, the truth was a terrible thing. She could feel it. Her breath ran thin.

  Adanna gasped as she burst up, wiping the water from her face. Ren sat across from her with a towel over his face, halfway submerged and on a rocky protrusion. She swam across the shallow pool to him to share his rock ledge.

  “I saw something tonight while I was walking. It scared me. Hells, I’m still scared,” Adanna hushed. “It had six eyes and a cry that curdled blood—sound familiar? And now the Watchers? It’s too coincidental.”

  Ren slurred a muffled response. “I’m too relaxed for whatever you’re talking about. Try again later.”

  Adanna scooted closer, annoyed.

  “Fine, I’ll spell it out—I think there are noctivora in Sableshore.”

  Fake snores purred out from the cloth.

  “Ren!” she said. He ignored her. Adanna sank into the pool until the water’s level covered her mouth. She breathed out annoyance with a sustained set of popping bubbles.

  “Excuse me?”

  Adanna startled up, turning to the masculine voice behind her. Two men were at the pool’s edge. One was a towering boulder with a face of weathered stone, while the younger was stunningly handsome—he wore it like he knew it, lessening its impact.

  Each modeled matching uniforms: night-black calarite cloaks, thick coats, blazing white jackets with a red eye sewn into the center, and a cylindrical fur cap. The outfit was identical to Benn's during his infrequent visits home from the Emberheart. The boulder man squatted closer. His ice-blue eyes took her in expressionless.

  “Are you Adanna Tristes?” His voice was crushed gravel, with an unfamiliar accent slurring his words.

  “I am,” she said, looking away. The younger Watcher stepped forward. His eyes grazed her, then darted away.

  “We have questions for you,” the handsome one cleared his throat. “Could you please dress and meet us in the hall?”

  “Yes. But we might be here for a while. Right?”

  Adanna subtly elbowed Ren hard from under the water. His head popped up to drop the cloth into the drink.

  “What in the hells was that f—” Ren noticed the squatted boulder man. “Oh! Hello.”

  The boulder glanced at Ren briefly, then back to her.

  “May we join you?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Of course!” Ren butt in, driving past her with an extended hand. “I’m Ren Sulvan. This is Adanna, my dive partner. We’d be honored if you would join us. It’s not every day the Watchers come to our home.”

  The boulder took his hand and shook it.

  “Well met, Ren Sulvan—you were the other. The Fortunes are with us. I am Jesson Kal. This young man” —he gestured behind him— “is Tael Singh.”

  Jesson and Tael moved off to the side to undress.

  Adanna stared wide-eyed at Ren. He shrugged with a “How was I supposed to know what you wanted?” face.

  The Watchers stripped off thick calarite cloaks, jackets, overshirts, and shirts—they must have been sweating in all that gear. Scars marred their well-muscled bodies as echoes of battle. Adanna looked away into the glowing waters when she noticed she was staring.

  The boulder, Jesson, stepped in first, causing the waters to rise from her collarbone to her chin. Tael was next, though more tepidly—he sucked in at the first and second steps.

  “Oh, it’s hot—hotter than Lake Valkar.”

  Adanna stifled a laugh. Tael glowered at her but glanced away fast—was he blushing? Jesson was the first to speak.

  “Apologies for interrupting your free time, but the matter is grave. Your elder told us you two witnessed a krystos during a dive. Is that true?”

  “It is,” Ren perked up. “You should have seen it—Adanna scared it away with a look!”

  Jesson looked at her appreciatively. Adanna shook her head.

  “I didn’t scare anything. I gave it my Moment, and it left.”

  “Did you communicate with the beast?”

  “Not exactly, but in a way, yes. The krystos actions tell us something if we look for it. Divers are closer than most to life’s song. We don’t understand it, not really. We feel it. And it all points to one thing: The winds are changing.”

  Jesson looked at her critically, squinting his brows.

  Tael huffed, shaking his head. “You divers really are a superstitious lot.”

  The buzz of chatter filled the silence until Jesson spoke.

  “Forgive Tael—he’s more bravado than brain. We respect the divers and their contributions to Kes. Yet, Tael does scratch at something, however abrasively.” Jesson looked up as if to reason. “If things are changing, why now?”

  Adanna shot back. “Good question. Why now?” she said, looking at each Watcher in turn. “Why are you Sableshore?”

  Jesson chuckled. “You’re forward. I like that.”

  “We can’t say,” Tael snarled. “Under the Kesvam’s direct orders.”

  “This is true,” Jesson nodded. “But, sometimes, discretion is necessary.”

  “You can’t be serious. The Nel-Varu told us directly to keep it quiet until we know more—”

  Jesson raised a calming hand to Tael. “Yes, I know. But Adanna is correct: trust goes both ways. What we know could be important for them to know. We can trust them to keep our secret silent for a time?”

  Adanna and Ren nodded in sync.

  “Good,” Jesson sighed. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it: The noctivora have been migrating outward, and we don’t know why. The Kesvam sent pairs of Watchers to all the outer settlements. We are here to find out why.”

  Ren’s jaw slackened. Adanna’s pulse raced—so she wasn’t imagining it. She wasn’t going mad. But that also meant that this danger was real.

  “You don’t act surprised,” Tael said.

  “My brother is in the Watch,” Adanna said. “Benn Tristes. I know what they look like, sound like, and how they hunt.” Everyone’s eyes were on her, and she sank into the water. She swallowed before whispering. “I saw one in the mountains today. And it was sounding.”

  Ren gasped. Jesson was suddenly deathly serious.

  “Who else knows?” Jesson said with a hush. “It is essential not to cause a panic. These creatures are smart, and frightened people are easier prey. If they’re sounding, they’re implanting. And if they’re implanting, they’ll be hunting soon.”

  “I never told anyone until now. I couldn’t be sure before, but it makes too much sense.”

  Jesson slumped back, relieved. “Good, good.” He rinsed his face as if to rub out the worry. “We hadn’t expected them so far, so soon.”

  Tael looked shocked. He skimmed Adanna before looking back to Jesson, jolting upright abruptly. “You seriously believe her?” Tael asked incredulously. “If one of them came close enough for her to hear it, she’d be dead.”

  Adanna shot up to stand. “I know what I saw. It was like it was observing me. I don’t think it intended to attack, or I would be dead.”

  “I believe you saw something,” Tael asked. “The question is, do you think it was real?”

  Adanna stepped closer and balled her fists. “What are you implying?”

  Tael forced himself to look at her. “Isn’t this how it starts? Timeblindness?”

  Adanna sucked a breath as Tael echoed her fears from earlier. Tael continued.

  “It's common among divers, is it not? Too much Moment, and now you’re seeing ghosts. Maybe it wasn’t a noctivora—just you losing your grip.”

  Ren caught her arm when she stepped toward Tael. Adanna pulled free and stepped chest to chest with the haughty bastard. He was half a hand taller than her, forcing her to look up as they locked eyes. Tael shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Adanna spoke low, dangerously.

  “I’d be careful with your next words, Watcher.”

  Tael said nothing, swallowing. Finally, he looked away.

  The tension broke as Jesson pushed them apart gently, nodding apologetically to Adanna.

  “My sincere apologies. I will ensure Tael meditates on his unkind words. We have much to consider. Your testimony is critical to our investigation, and we offer our greatest thanks. Right, Tael?” Jesson pressed Tael closer.

  “Sure.” Tael stepped up and out of the pool. “Thanks.” Gathering his clothes and started walking away.

  Jesson bowed his head and followed.

  Adanna watched Tael go, glaring.

  “The older one is cute,” Ren said as the Watchers exited the entrance tunnel. “His little accent—where on the Iko is it from?”

  All Adanna could manage as a response was a suffering look.

  As the Watchers disappeared into the misty haze, she let herself sink deeper into the spring, the heat ineffective against the chilling knot of dread twisting in her chest. Adanna wasn’t crazy, but noctivora were in Sableshore. It seemed like a lousy trade for her people.

  “I suppose pretty boy is your type, then,” Ren said cutely.

  She splashed his face with spring water.